Nero didn't sleep.
He tried. Closed his eyes, listened to the rhythmic sounds of Klaus working in the corner, the distant drip of water somewhere in the walls. But every time he started to drift, Veyra would pulse-a warning signal that made his chest tight and his hands shake.
Something was wrong.
He'd felt this before. Back in Sector Zero, right before the Reconstruction Unit had found them. Right before Eleven-
He opened his eyes.
Klaus had stopped working. He was sitting at his bench, torch turned low, staring at something in his hands. A photograph, maybe. Or a data chip. Too far to tell in the dim light.
"Can't sleep either?" Klaus asked without turning around.
Nero sat up slowly, joints protesting. "Not really."
"Veyra keeping you awake?" Klaus set down whatever he'd been holding. "The core instability gets worse when you're stressed. Creates a feedback loop. Stress triggers Veyra, Veyra makes you more stressed, round and round."
"You seem to know a lot about it."
"I used to be an Archive engineer." Klaus finally turned to face him. In the low light, his expression was harder to read. "Maintenance Division, Sector Twelve. Before the Archive decided I was more useful erased."
Across the room, Helia shifted. Not sleeping either, Nero realized. Just watching. Listening.
"What happened?" Nero asked.
Klaus was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood, crossed to a storage container, and pulled out two ration bars. Tossed one to Nero.
"You hungry?"
"I asked what happened."
"And I'm deciding if you're worth the story." Klaus unwrapped his ration bar, took a bite. Chewed slowly. "You seem different from the other prototypes. More... aware. Like you're actually thinking instead of just following programming."
"I'm not programmed," Nero said, harder than he intended.
"Everyone's programmed down here. Some of us just have better code." Klaus gestured around them. "The Archive doesn't create people anymore. It creates functions. Enforcers who enforce. Engineers who engineer. Prototypes who prototype." He paused. "But sometimes the code breaks. Sometimes people start asking questions."
"Questions like what?"
"Like why does the Archive erase anyone who bonds too closely with someone else? Why are Veyra researchers systematically corrected? Why does the system fear connection more than rebellion?" Klaus's voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. "I asked those questions. Along with about two dozen other engineers in my division."
Helia spoke from her corner. "Where are the others now?"
"Erased. All of them." Klaus didn't look at her. "I'm the only one who got out. Barely."
"How?" Nero unwrapped his ration bar but didn't eat. His stomach was too tight.
"I knew the routes. Knew which sectors had blind spots in the monitoring system. Knew how to disable my tracking implant without triggering alerts." Klaus touched the back of his neck absently. Nero saw a scar there, faded but visible. "Spent three days in the maintenance crawlspaces, bleeding, half-dead from the implant removal. But I made it down here. To the places Archive forgot."
"That was how long ago?"
"Two years. Give or take." Klaus finished his ration bar. "I've been surviving in the gaps ever since. Learning the old routes. Scavenging equipment. Trying to understand what the Archive is really afraid of."
"And what is it afraid of?" Helia asked.
Klaus looked at her directly for the first time since they'd arrived. "You. Him. Anyone who proves that human connection makes us stronger instead of weaker."
The words hung in the air.
Nero felt Veyra pulse in response-not a warning this time. Something else. Recognition, maybe.
"The Archive's entire foundation is built on one principle," Klaus continued. "Isolation creates stability. Bonds create chaos. Keep people separated, keep them focused on their functions, and the system runs smoothly." He gestured at Nero. "But you're living proof that's wrong. Your Veyra should've killed you weeks ago. Instead, it's stable. Growing. Why?"
Nero thought about Helia. About the way his core had settled when she was near. The way Veyra had calmed when she'd talked him through the panic in Sector Zero.
"I don't know," he said quietly.
"I think you do." Klaus's gaze was sharp. "You've bonded with her. Against all Archive protocol, against everything the system says should happen, you've formed an attachment. And instead of destroying you, it's made your Veyra stronger."
Helia stood up abruptly. "You're fishing for information. Every question you ask is cataloguing us."
"Of course I am." Klaus didn't deny it. "Information keeps me alive. Keeps me one step ahead of the Archive's predictive models. I need to understand what makes you two different, what makes you dangerous to the system, because-"
"Because what?" Helia moved closer, hand near her weapon. "Because you're planning to sell us out? Trade our location for clemency?"
"Because I'm trying to decide if you're worth protecting."
The statement caught Nero off guard.
Klaus met Helia's glare without flinching. "I've been alone down here for two years. Surviving, yes. But not living. Not connecting. Not being human." His voice roughened. "I watched everyone I cared about get erased. My colleagues. My friends. Iris-" He stopped. Swallowed. "The Archive took everything that mattered and left me with existence. Just breathing and hiding and surviving another day."
"And we're supposed to feel sorry for you?" Helia's voice was cold.
"No. You're supposed to understand why I'm here instead of somewhere safer. Why I'm risking Archive detection to help you." Klaus pointed at Nero. "Because if he's proof that bonds make Veyra stable, if human connection is actually the key to surviving the system instead of a flaw to be erased, then maybe-" His voice cracked slightly. "Maybe everyone I lost died for nothing. Or maybe they died trying to prove something the Archive couldn't allow."
Silence.
Nero looked at Helia. Saw her calculating, weighing Klaus's words against his actions, trying to find the lie.
"Who was Iris?" Nero asked quietly.
Klaus turned away. For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then: "My partner. Research division. She was studying Veyra manifestation patterns, trying to understand why some hosts survived and others didn't." He picked up the object he'd been holding earlier-a data chip, Nero saw now. "She found something. A pattern in the survivors. They all had strong social bonds. Family, Friends, and Lovers. The isolated ones died within hours. The connected ones lasted days, sometimes weeks."
"What happened to her research?"
"Flagged as destabilizing. Iris was marked for correction." Klaus's hands tightened around the chip. "I tried to warn her. Tried to get her to run. But she wanted to finish her work first. Said it was too important to abandon." He set the chip down carefully. "The Reconstruction Unit came for her three days later. I was in a different sector. By the time I found out, she was already gone."
Nero saw it then-the grief Klaus had been hiding behind pragmatism and survival instinct. The loss that had driven him into the Archive's forgotten places.
"I'm sorry," Nero said.
"Don't be. Just don't waste what she died trying to prove." Klaus looked at him. "You're stable because of her. Because of Helia. The Archive wants you to think attachment is weakness, but it's the only thing keeping you alive."
Helia hadn't moved, but something in her posture had shifted. Less hostile. More... uncertain.
"Why should we believe you?" she asked, but the edge was gone from her voice.
"You shouldn't." Klaus picked up the data chip again, held it out. "But you can verify. This is Iris's last research log. Everything she found about Veyra and bonding. It's incomplete, but it might help you understand what you're carrying."
Nero took the chip carefully. It was warm from Klaus's grip.
"The Archive communicator on your bench," Helia said. "Why do you have it?"
Klaus's expression didn't change. "Because I monitor Archive channels. Listen for deployment patterns, correction orders, retrieval authorizations. It's how I knew you were being hunted. How I knew where to find you."
"Or how to report our location."
"If I wanted you dead, I would've left you for the drones." Klaus met her stare evenly. "But believe what you want. Trust takes time. I understand that."
The torch flickered. Klaus adjusted it, bringing the light back up.
"Get some rest," he said, returning to his bench. "Both of you. We move in two hours, and the next route is harder. More patrols, less cover."
Nero looked at the data chip in his hand. Then at Klaus, bent over his work again, shoulders tense with old grief.
Then at Helia, who was watching Klaus with an expression Nero couldn't quite read.
Maybe Klaus was telling the truth.
Maybe he was the best liar Nero had ever met.
Either way, they were stuck with him. At least for now.
Nero pocketed the chip and leaned back against the wall. Closed his eyes.
This time, Veyra was quiet