Page 40 of Broken Sentinel

"Better than neural disruptors."

We backtrack to a utility closet where Trent pries open a ventilation panel. The shaft beyond is narrow, barely wide enough for shoulders. Definitely not designed for to human passage.

"Ladies first," I quip, already squeezing into the cramped space.

The metal is cold against my palms as I crawl forward on hands and knees. The shaft narrows further, forcing me to wriggle like some kind of maintenance snake. Behind me, Trent's breathing is controlled and steady, even in this claustrophobic nightmare.

"How much farther?" I whisper.

"Junction point in twenty meters. Then straight down to lower access level."

Straight down. Great.

We reach the junction point, a vertical shaft dropping at least thirty meters into darkness. No ladder. No handholds. Just a straight shot down into who knows what.

"Please tell me you have a plan that doesn't involve falling to our deaths," I mutter.

Trent produces a thin cable from his maintenance kit. "Controlled descent."

"That doesn't look strong enough to hold a child, let alone two adults."

"Enhanced tensile strength. Unity developed it for high-stress environmental systems." He secures one end to a support strut inside the shaft. "It'll hold."

I eye the flimsy-looking cable skeptically. "If we die, I'm blaming you in the afterlife."

"Noted. I'll go first."

He wraps the cable around his arm, tests it once, then slides into the vertical shaft. His descent is controlled and efficient, because of course it is. Everything Trent does is perfect, even escaping from the only home we've ever known.

"Clear," his voice echoes up from below. "Your turn."

I take a deep breath and follow his technique, wrapping the cable as he showed me. My heart pounds as I ease over the edge, feet scrabbling for purchase against smooth metal walls.

The descent is terrifying. The shaft seems to stretch forever into darkness, my enhanced vision picking up details I'd rather not see, like the thin layer of grime on the walls and the very, very long drop below.

Halfway down, the cable jerks. A soft groan of metal from above.

The support strut is giving way.

Oh no. Please no.

"Trent—"

"I see it. Accelerate your descent."

I loosen my grip, sliding faster than is probably safe. The cable wobbles as the strut bends further.

"Almost there," Trent calls. "Three more meters."

The strut breaks with a sharp crack. For one heart-stopping moment, I'm in free fall?—

Strong hands catch me around the waist, absorbing the impact. Trent staggers slightly but keeps us both upright as the cable crashes down around us.

"You okay?" he asks, his hands still steadying me.

"Better than the cable." My attempt at humor sounds shaky even to my own ears.

We're standing in a larger maintenance passage now, clearly designed for drone access rather than human workers. Emergency lighting casts long shadows along the curved walls.

---