The road into Sector 14 wasn't paved anymore. It used to be, Riven could still make out faded transit lines beneath the dust, but years of wear had broken it down. Now it was just cracked stone and patches of sand, scattered with rusted bolts and flattened water canisters. The outer checkpoint was empty. It was now just a metal post draped in dead wires and a hand-painted sign:
KEEP TO THE PATH / DRONE LINE DEAD / ENTRY NOT MONITORED.
Cassian read it aloud with a smirk. "Comforting."
They kept walking.
Sector 14 had grown around what used to be a train hub, or an old water station of some sort. The center had collapsed long ago, but the outer buildings were still standing. Walls were patched together from shipping crates and insulation foam, roofs held up by open beams and tarp, with thin wires stretched between them. Heat rippled off a nearby vent pipe.
The place was alive, but in a quiet, worn-down way. People moved through narrow alleys with their shoulders hunched and their eyes low. Cassian's presence didn't seem to bother anyone. Riven's did.
A child holding a cracked water jug watched him too long before disappearing behind a plastic curtain.
Cassian adjusted the strap on his shoulder. "You're drawing attention."
"I know."
"We're just here to rest and refuel, right? I mean, unless you've planned a dramatic collapse in the street to win favors."
"I'm looking for a console. Then we'll rest."
Cassian let out a short breath, somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "Of course you are."
They passed a corner vendor selling old filter packs and powdered nutrient bags. The woman behind the table wore welding goggles and a scarf over her mouth, her fingers stained dark with handling salvage. Cassian flipped her a thin coin and then snagged the dried roots she threw in return.
Riven kept walking. He was scanning the structures, specifically looking for signs of embedded hardware: panel seams, disused access ports, city tech.
One of the buildings near the back of the sector caught his eye. It had a faded emblem etched into its side: CRB-S14 // Manual Relay Access.
"This one" he said.
Cassian raised a brow. "Looks like a bunker."
"Good. Means it still has insulation and possibly power lines."
He pushed the door open and it groaned under the weight. Inside, the air smelled like scorched wiring, old heat tabs, and dry metal. Faint light slipped through a cracked window, fading as they stepped in.
"Your version of rest and mine are very different" Cassian muttered, letting the door fall shut behind them.
Riven scanned the room quickly. The space had been stripped long ago, no furniture, no working lights, but the power trunk lines were still embedded in the wall. He knelt beside a sealed panel and brushed dust from the edge. There was no lock, just a rusted hinge.
Cassian leaned against the frame, chewing the dried roots. "You're going to plug that thing in here? In the middle of a public zone?"
"It's not public" Riven said. "It's abandoned."
"Yeah, and you think that means it's off-grid?"
Riven didn't answer. He pulled a folding reader from his satchel and connected a short cable to the side port. A small green light blinked.
Cassian's voice dropped lower. "Look, I know I joke a lot, but I wasn't entirely kidding about you getting us arrested."
Riven didn't look up. "This isn't a broadcast device. It's passive."
"You sure?" Cassian asked. "Because that light just blinked like it said hello to someone."
Before Riven could respond, the wall behind them gave a soft mechanical click. Somewhere deeper in the building, a buzz started up. Old systems woke, recognizing something they hadn't in years.
Cassian stepped back from the wall. "Riven..."
"I didn't trigger anything. It's the core. I think it's being recognized."
Riven tapped the reader's interface. A string of characters flickered briefly before glitching out. Then, without warning, every powered object in the room blinked once. The floor vibrated under their feet.
Outside, something loud and mechanical gave a sharp clunk.
Cassian moved to the window and looked out through the cracked glass. Two figures had stepped into the edge of the sector plaza, wearing patched uniforms and black shoulder bands. One held a stubby receiver with a pulsing light. The other was already scanning the buildings.
"CRB runners" he said. "They're active. And they're here."
Riven disconnected the reader, fast.
Cassian was already moving. "They're going to trace that ping."
"It was less than five seconds."
"They don't care."
Riven stuffed the reader into his coat and was already at the back exit, an old fire door half-buried in debris. Cassian shoved it open with his shoulder, wincing as it let out a long screech of protest.
Outside, they dropped into a narrow maintenance alley half-swallowed by old sand drift. Riven was running, retracing a side route he'd noticed earlier on the way in.
Behind them, a sharp burst of sound echoed through the sector, like a pulse beacon going active.
Cassian muttered under his breath. "Five seconds, my ass."
They moved quickly, staying close to the walls and weaving through half-collapsed walkways and side paths strewn with rusted pipes. Riven said nothing, he knew the layout better than he'd let on. Cassian kept close behind, still riding the edge of adrenaline.
From the main street came the sound of a boot skidding on gravel, then a sharp voice commanding: "Back route! Cut them off!"
Cassian cursed. "They're not bluffing."
"No" Riven said. "They're running a sector wedge."
Cassian shot him a look. "You think I know what that means?"
"They're herding us."
"Well, tell me where not to go, then."
Riven didn't answer. He turned into a narrow corridor, ducking under a low pipe that brushed the top of his hood. Cassian followed close, nearly clipping his shoulder on the way in.
Behind them, a runner's voice barked something again, too far now to hear clearly, but too close to ignore.
They reached a split in the alley. Riven paused just long enough to scan both directions, then took the left, steeper, older, but buried in shadow.
"You sure?" Cassian said, already following.
"Not even a little."
The new path dropped them into what looked like the lower service tier of the city. The walls were damp with condensation from old filter vents. A broken staircase led them down into a drainage access channel, once meant for overflow but now dry, hollow, and lined with graffiti. Riven slowed only once to check the satchel. The core was quiet.
"They're not chasing the core" he said. "They're chasing the signal."
Cassian huffed beside him. "I don't care if they're chasing our shadows, if they catch us, I'm blaming you."
"They won't" Riven said.
"You're awfully confident for someone who just set off a search grid."
A narrow gap opened between two support walls. Riven slipped through first and pulled Cassian in behind him. They crouched in the dark, listening. Somewhere above, boots hit the pavement, but the sound was broken and hard to trace.
Cassian leaned close, whispering now. "We can't do this again. Not every time you plug that thing into the wall."
"I didn't think it would trip anything."
"Right. Because the dead city gods are just waiting patiently for someone to ask nicely."
Silence settled between them, broken only by the wind through the vents and the low sound of distant systems.
Then, further off, the runners' voices receded, redirected, maybe, or misled.
Cassian stayed still a moment longer. Then: "You owe me more than water, you know that, right?"
Riven gave the faintest nod. "I know."
They stayed hidden for another minute, just to be sure.
Then Riven moved and led them down another side path, a forgotten stairwell tucked behind old ductwork, and eventually out into a service corridor beneath the edge of the city.
Cassian followed without comment now. His breathing had evened out, but he kept glancing behind them, as if expecting the silence to break again.
Riven stopped at a small utility room, probably an old maintenance office. The walls were still intact, and a desk sat pushed against one side. There were no windows, only a cracked light panel overhead that stayed dark when he tried the switch.
Cassian crouched down, resting one hand on his knee. "You've got a real talent for finding the worst parts of every city."
"It's off-grid" Riven said.
"I noticed."
They stayed like that for a while, catching their breath. Slowly, the tension in Cassian's body began to ease.
"So... we're wanted now?" he said.
"No. We tripped a sensor. They'll sweep the plaza and log a report. If we stay low, they'll drop it."
"That's... optimistic."
Riven looked up. "They don't know what the signal was. Only that it was flagged."
"And that's not worse?"
"It means they're not prepared."
Cassian stared at him for a long moment. "For what?"
Riven paused. Then, calmly: "For a system that can still react."
Cassian didn't reply to that, but the humor had dropped from his face. He leaned forward, nodding once toward the satchel. "You're going to tell me what that thing really is. Soon."
"I will."
"Soon, not in three weeks."
Riven gave a short nod. "Soon."
Cassian leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Alright. Good. Because if we're going to get shot at every time you check your mail, I at least want to know who's sending it."