Kael held his breath until the noise disappeared.
The bodily pressure from the breach manifested as a piercing ache behind his eyes—the result of overwhelming his inherent psychic barriers to bypass the Domes automated detection systems. Each Umbra Seeker understood the cost of forcing through the Astra's filter networks; it was akin, to dragging the spirit through coarse steel wool. He rested face down in the neglected air duct the chilly metal pressing against his pressure suit detecting the subtle sharp aroma of ozone and dust—the sole natural elements remaining in this excessively cleaned world.
His first frantic evaluation was that the infiltration had not succeeded. The kinetic mark of the intrusion—the instant he tore the joint in the barrier—ought to have immediately set off a Gamma-12 purge. He should have been incinerated, a burst of energy rapidly obliterated by plasma blasts. That was the Astra protocol: absolute relentless containment.
However the Gamma-12 failed to arrive.
Rather a series of zone-specific diagnostic signals flooded the area, succeeded by the noise of large maintenance drones shutting off due to what seemed like a system reboot. He paused, his psychic awareness stretched to the limit, attuned to the buzz of anti-personnel armaments. Silence. The system had faltered upon detecting him identifying him as an error, in the framework of an enemy threat.
Luck. Kael echoed the term in his mind suppressing the surge of adrenaline. He had no room to view it any differently. The idea that an Astra could have intentionally aided him was absurd a fiction dissolved by Umbra survival drills before the age of ten. The Astra were the foes—living in luxury, well-nourished draining the final drops of the planet's pure energy as the Umbra eked out an existence in the poisonous dusk, beyond. They were automatons, designed to eliminate anything that posed a threat to their ease.
He hoisted himself upward the motion deliberate and rehearsed, cautious of the acoustic sensors installed in the shaft walls. He verified the closure on his pack confirming that the pilfered Umbra-made sensor array—his device, for gathering data—was safely fastened.
His objective was straightforward, ruthless and crucial: obtain the designs for the 'Solar Retribution Array.' Whispers had surfaced that Astra was crafting an energy armament intended not for protection but for incineration. If launched it could make the last livable areas, on the Surface forever uninhabitable signifying a calculated extermination of the Umbra population. Kael's duty was to seize the plans and bring them to Umbra engineers so they could create a defense before Astra completed the weapon.
He came not to ruin. To rescue. To achieve this he needed to remain as quiet and effective, as the system he was currently concealed within.
He examined the wrist-worn navigation chart. Sector Beta-9 was a service circuit initially planned to be closed but remained open because of budget reductions centuries earlier. It was a neglected blemish on the Dome's flawless exterior and it provided direct access to the Sub-Archival Level, the central hub of Astra's historical records—the crucial link, to the weapon designs.
He started moving into the shadowy chilly ventilation shafts. The atmosphere was dry purified to the point of unrecognizability lacking the dust, sulfur and metallic sharpness found above. He longed for the scent of the Twilight the reminder of liberty. In this immaculate setting he felt completely vulnerable.
Avoid inhaling the atmosphere steer clear of the quiet. That was the Umbra creed when navigating Astra lands. The pure air here seemed toxic, to his spirit.
After covering three hundred meters through the passage Kael arrived at his destination: a deserted ventilation junction. As, per the pilfered blueprints this exact spot contained an atmospheric stabilizer that produced only enough ambient energy to conceal his presence efficiently. Crucially it featured an access hatch descending to the Sub-Archival Level beneath.
He positioned himself at the junction retrieving his sensor suite and the small toolkit. He secured the area behind him using a made kinetic lock softening the metallic click with a piece of synthetic padding. He required at three hours to bypass the level one security lock, on the hatch and start the data conduit splice.
While he toiled, a persistent sensation of something missing tugged at his consciousness. He instinctively grasped the pocket stitched into the sleeve of his suit—the spot where he stored his talisman. It was a hand-sculpted stone, gifted by his mother designed to soak up leftover radiation and ward off slight psychic disturbances. It served as a connection, to his origins.
The pocket was empty.
His heart, used to the pulse of survival missed a beat. He likely lost it during the breach when he had to exert kinetic power to rip through the wall. Close to the wall, near the breach site.
He swore quietly to himself. It was a breach of discipline an absurd display of emotion. If discovered by Astra security it would unmistakably signal Umbra activity, a trace of the Surface. Should the maintenance drone assigned to Beta-9 detect it the whole area would be sealed off. Cleansed.
For an instant the mission became unclear. He thought about going for it. Yet the danger was too great; his opportunity to remain unnoticed was limited. The fate of his people relied on the plans, not the gem. He needed to come to terms, with the loss yet another fragment of himself given up for the cause.
Kael redirected his gaze to the access hatch. It was fastened by a pressure lock along, with a mechanical keypad.
"Primitive " he murmured, his tone audible in the resonant crossroads. The Astra depended on prowess and energy shields overlooking physical protection, on their auxiliary systems. An evident indication of their overconfidence.
He started the careful task of bypassing the mechanical lock his Umbra training guiding him. His mind drifted to the Surface—the luminous night sky, pure and unmasked though it beamed upon a fractured world. He recalled the group of survivors depending on his achievement. The chill of the Astra Dome was not merely physical; it represented the chill of a mechanism lacking the urgent warm humanity found in the Umbra.
They are our adversaries. Their efficiency leaves us famished. Their pride obscures the stars.
The idea acted as a defense a toughening of his resolve. He had no room for compassion or diversion. He couldn't risk another lapse in discipline, such, as the loss of the charm.
With one precise adjustment of the magnetic field the pressure lock released with a gentle regulated sigh. The entry hatch swung open revealing a ladder shaft descending into the Sub-Archival Level, the core of the Dome's secret past.
He clutched the ladder's rungs, his hands contrasting with the sleek chilly metal. Before climbing down he stopped briefly glancing back down the tunnel toward the Dome's wall. He reflected more on the delayed reaction the perplexing break in the Gamma-12 procedure. It was the unpredictable factor, in his whole mission.
A glitch in the system. Nothing more.
He crept through the hatch descending quietly into the shadows. He was now, within the foes defenses a phantom seeking information. His mission was to last three days retrieve the plans and then break through the wall more.
Three days remained to rescue his people. Three days stood between him and the danger of meeting the Astra Archivist—the individual appointed to this exact neglected region—and uncovering the dreadful price of his quest. Kael clenched the bars tighter dismissing thoughts of the charm dismissing the notion of the hold-up accepting the cold reasoning of the Seeker.
He was in. The mission continued.