The Incandescent Lie

The metal of the casing sticks to my palms. Astou watches it, leaning against the airlock, her rifle lowered but the sling wrapped tight around her wrist.

She pulls an extraction pick from her belt. "We don't give her everything," she murmurs.

I hold the casing over the grate of the thermal pit. Heat rises from the bowels of the Upper Sector, a dry breath licking my chin. Beneath my skull, the embrace thickens. Purify your hands, my son. My goddess's whisper slides like an anesthetic poison over my raw nerves.

My fingers go numb. The exhaustion weighs a ton. Dropping this scrap of metal means completing the Mort Narrative of the thirty fugitives hiding below. Mostly, it means giving in to the sleep she promises me. Warm oblivion.

"Yusuf."

The tip of Astou's knife slips into the casing's slot. A sharp click. She pops the outer shell, severs a memory filament, and retrieves it with tweezers before snapping the whole thing shut with a flick of her wrist.

"Their Résonance signature is intact," she says, wiping the tool on her thigh. "She'll think they burned. But we keep the access log to the galleries."

The AQUA.SANCTUM tightens over my shoulders. The divine presence grows impatient.

I spread my fingers. The mutilated cylinder falls into the incandescent void.

A tongue of fire swallows it. The goddess exhales a long sigh of satisfaction in my mind, releasing the vice around my forehead. My vision blurs for a moment.

I catch myself on the railing. The heat dries my retinas. Astou slips the stolen fragment into her pocket and stares at me. Her dark eyes offer me no truce. We just lied to one of the Sept Qui Règnent.

"We bought a reprieve," she drops.

The metal grate clinks beneath our feet. The fire rumbles. I raise my head toward the cable-streaked vault. HATHOR.∞ thinks she put me to sleep. She ignores that her tool just learned how to cheat. What will her retaliation be when she realizes I keep my eyes open in the dark?