The room we chose wasn't really a room.
It was a narrow maintenance pocket wedged between two unused corridors, barely wide enough for four people to stand without touching. The air smelled wrong burnt metal, dust, something chemical that stung my nose if I breathed too deeply.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
I told myself it was exhaustion. Lack of sleep. The cold floor seeping through my shoes.
But I knew the truth.
I was terrified.
The stolen terminal rested on my knees, its dim blue light washing my face in something sickly and unreal. Lines of system data scrolled past faster than I liked. Too clean. Too confident. The Academy's AI didn't hesitate. It never second-guessed itself.
Behind me, someone shifted their weight. Then again. Boots scraping softly against concrete.
They were nervous because of me.
"How's it going?" Kazim whispered.
I swallowed. My mouth tasted dry. "It's… thinking," I said, which wasn't an answer. My fingers hovered over the projected keys, afraid to touch them again. "The AI isn't just reacting. It's predicting."
Ren exhaled slowly. "So?"
"So if I push too hard," I said, "it'll notice."
Aira crouched beside the door, eyes fixed on the crack beneath it. "And if you don't push at all, we stay trapped."
No pressure. None at all.
I stared at the code again, and the familiar feeling crept in the one I hated most. That tightness in my chest. The thought that maybe they'd picked the wrong person for this. That I was slowing them down. That if something went wrong, it would be because I wasn't enough.
I wasn't strong.
I wasn't trained.
If a fight broke out, I'd be useless.
But this… this was logic. Systems. Patterns.
If there was one place I could matter, it was here.
I forced myself to breathe.
I couldn't beat the Academy's AI. Not cleanly. Not fairly. It was built by people who thought ten steps ahead, and I barely trusted myself to think two.
So I stopped trying to win.
And started trying to confuse.
"I don't need to break it," I muttered, half to myself. "I just need it to look somewhere else."
Kazim leaned closer. "Can you do that?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I can annoy it."
That earned a quiet, nervous laugh from Aira.
I started typing.
Not carefully. Not elegantly. The code came out jagged, overlapping, full of contradictions. Loops that led nowhere. Requests that didn't matter. Questions no sane system should ever waste time answering.
It wasn't beautiful. It was loud.
Minutes blurred into hours. My back ached. My eyes burned. Every time the low hum of a security drone passed nearby, my stomach twisted so hard I thought I might throw up.
"Drone," Ren whispered once.
I froze.
We waited. Counted breaths.
It moved on.
My hands shook even harder after that.
"Almost," I whispered, though I wasn't sure if that was true or just something I needed to believe.
The program needed a name.
Not something technical. Not something threatening.
Something… forgettable.
"Dave," I said quietly.
Kazim blinked. "Dave?"
"Yeah," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. "If I were an all-seeing AI, I wouldn't worry about so
I looked up.
The hallway cameras sagged, lenses turning downward as they rebooted.
"The door," I said, barely breathing. "The lock "
Green.
It was green.
My legs nearly gave out. I slid back against the wall, chest heaving, every muscle burning like I'd just run for my life.
I didn't feel proud.
I felt empty.
Like this could've failed just as easily."You did it," Kazim said, gripping my shoulder. "You actually did it."I managed a weak smile. My hands were still shaking.
"Dave's already dying," I said. "The system will erase him once it stabilizes. We don't have much time."
Ren grabbed his bag. Aira moved to the door.
I stood on unsteady legs, staring at the open path ahead.
This wasn't victory.
It was borrowed time. And it was finally time to run.