Elias moved through the darkness with practiced stealth, each step calculated despite the unfamiliar surroundings. The breach in the wall opened into a maintenance tunnel—a claustrophobic passage that ran between the ship's primary corridors. Pipes lined the ceiling, occasional bursts of steam hissing through hairline fractures. The emergency lighting here was sparse, creating pools of crimson illumination separated by stretches of absolute darkness.
Behind him, he heard the others hesitantly following. Maren first, then Etta, with Nira bringing up the rear.
"This wasn't on the ship schematics," Maren whispered, her Twilight Twins clutched tightly in both hands, the purple glow providing additional, eerie light.
"Maintenance access," Elias replied without turning. "Security knows about these, but they're not on passenger maps."
He didn't mention how he knew this—how slum survival had taught him that all structures had hidden pathways, known only to those who built them and those desperate enough to find them.
They moved in silence for several minutes, the only sounds their breathing and the distant groaning of the ship's hull. Occasionally, something liquid dripped from above—Elias carefully avoided letting it touch his skin, suspecting corruption.
'If that shade retreated this way, we should have encountered it by now,' he thought, scanning ahead for movement. 'Unless it's hunting us.'
The passage began to slope upward. They were approaching the deck above.
"Wait," Nira hissed suddenly. "Listen."
They froze. A faint, rhythmic tapping echoed through the tunnel—too regular to be random, too deliberate to be mechanical.
"Someone's using the pipes for communication," Etta whispered, surprise evident in her voice. "That's an old farming colony trick—when storms knocked out comms."
She pressed her ear against one of the larger pipes, closing her eyes to concentrate. After a moment, she pulled back.
"It's a distress pattern. Someone's trapped ahead."
Elias weighed their options quickly. A trapped crew member could provide valuable information—or be bait in a trap.
"We proceed, but cautiously," he decided. "Maren, take point with those daggers. Etta and Nira in the middle. I'll cover our rear."
The group advanced slowly toward the sound. The tapping grew louder until they reached a junction where four tunnels intersected. In the center, an access hatch in the floor had been pried partially open, and the tapping came from below.
Maren approached, daggers ready, and peered through the gap.
"It's a communication station," she reported. "There's someone inside—they're using a wrench on the pipes."
Elias moved beside her and looked down. A small room filled with communication equipment lay below. A woman in a technician's uniform was rhythmically striking a pipe with a wrench while adjusting equipment with her free hand.
"Auxiliary Communications," Elias read from a sign on the wall. "Not Control, but it might serve our purpose."
He called down, "We're coming in. Don't be alarmed."
The woman below startled, looking up with wide eyes that narrowed with suspicion. "Identify yourselves."
"Research Assistant Elias Varen, Laboratory Four," Elias replied smoothly, adopting his historical identity. "With Dr. Soren Varek, Botanist Hayes, and..." He glanced at Nira, realizing he didn't know her historical name.
"Science Officer Nira Chen," she supplied quickly.
The technician hesitated, then nodded. "Communications Specialist Reeves. Access is through the maintenance ladder to your right."
They descended one by one into the cramped communications room. Equipment lined every wall—radio transmitters, intercoms, and more advanced systems Elias couldn't identify. Most displays were dark, but Reeves had managed to power a central console.
"Ship-wide comms are down," she explained briskly, turning back to her work. "I've been trying to establish a local network using subsystems. Almost got it working again."
Elias studied her closely—no visible signs of corruption, and her movements were too precise, too purposeful for someone under its influence.
"We need to contact specific personnel," Elias said. "Officer Braun in Security and Lyra Nevaris in Medical."
Reeves nodded without looking up. "Give me five minutes. I'm patching through emergency channels section by section."
While she worked, Elias quietly informed the others, "This is better than Auxiliary Control. If we can establish communication with Keldric and Lyara, we can coordinate our movements to the bridge."
"And find our artifacts," Etta added, eyes scanning the room for anything that might 'resonate' with her.
The minutes stretched with agonizing slowness. Reeves muttered technical jargon as she worked, occasionally requesting one of them to hold a component or adjust a setting. Finally, a screen flickered to life, sectional ship schematics appearing with highlighted communication nodes.
"Got it," Reeves announced with grim satisfaction. "Limited range, but I can patch you through to security stations and medical. Who first?"
"Security," Elias decided. "Officer Braun."
Reeves input commands, and the speaker crackled with static before a voice broke through.
"—repeat, this is Security Station Alpha. All personnel evacuate to—"
"This is Communications Specialist Reeves. I need to speak with Officer Braun urgently."
More static, then: "Braun is coordinating evacuation on Deck Three. Stand by."
The wait was brief. Soon, Keldric's voice emerged from the speaker, tense but controlled.
"This is Braun. Go ahead, Reeves."
Elias leaned toward the microphone. "Keldric, it's Elias. We saw you on surveillance. What's your status?"
A pause, then Keldric's voice lowered. "Elias. Good to hear you survived. I've got two other chosen with me—the noble youth and one of the scholarly women. We're about 400 meters from the bridge, but the path is blocked. Captain Markov has ordered complete lockdown."
"Have any of you found artifacts?" Maren asked, leaning in.
"Yes—both of them have one each. I've found my weapon—a sword that ignites with some kind of energy. Still searching for the second artifact."
Elias processed this information quickly. Three of them there, four here—that accounted for seven chosen ones. According to the Judge, all twelve had been placed on the Heraclea. Four remained unaccounted for, including Lyara. Tavis was the only one confirmed dead.
"We need to contact Medical next," Elias said to Reeves, who nodded and began adjusting the channels.
"Listen carefully," Elias continued to Keldric. "We need to converge at the bridge to complete this phase of the trial. According to the ship's schematics, there's an emergency access route through the crew quarters that should bypass the lockdown."
"Already tried it," Keldric replied grimly. "Corruption's heavy there. We lost three security officers in the attempt."
Elias wasn't surprised—the trial wouldn't make completion easy. "We'll find another way. Stand by for further communication."
Reeves had established a new connection. "Medical Bay, this is Communications Specialist Reeves. Do you copy?"
The reply came through garbled at first, then cleared: "This is Medical. We're overwhelmed with casualties. Make it quick."
"We need to speak with Lyra Nevaris. It's urgent."
Another pause, longer this time. Then a calm, familiar voice: "This is Lyra Nevaris."
Relief flooded through Elias, though he immediately questioned why he should care so much about a stranger's survival.
"Lyara, it's Elias. Are you alone?"
"Not exactly," she replied carefully. "But I can speak freely. There are two others with me—chosen ones. Maris and another. Both injured, but stable."
That accounted for ten of them. Two still missing.
"What's your artifact status?" Elias asked.
"I've found my weapon—a sword that separates corruption without killing the host. The others haven't found anything yet. We're trapped in Medical. Corruption's spreading through the ventilation system."
Elias looked at the ship schematics on the screen, his mind calculating routes and risks.
"We need a plan to get everyone to the bridge," he said, speaking to both connections. "According to what the Judge told us, we must all reach it with our artifacts to complete this phase."
"The Captain's implementing final containment protocols," Keldric warned. "She's preparing to scuttle the ship to prevent corruption spread. We have maybe two hours."
Two hours to find their remaining artifacts, gather the surviving chosen ones, and reach the bridge—all while navigating a dying ship overrun with corruption. The odds were impossible.
Elias smiled grimly. Impossible odds were familiar territory for a slum survivor.
"Everyone, listen carefully," he said, leaning toward the microphone. "Here's what we're going to do..."
The plan took shape as he spoke—coordinated movements, rendezvous points, fallback options. The others offered suggestions, refinements. Even Reeves contributed, her expert knowledge of the ship's communication systems proving invaluable for maintaining contact during their approach.
As the details solidified, Elias felt a strange sensation—the weight of leadership settling on shoulders accustomed only to the burden of personal survival. These people were looking to him for direction, for hope.
In the Outer Slums, hope was a luxury he'd never been able to afford. Yet here, facing death in a historical nightmare, he found himself offering it to others.
'Strange how the trials change us,' he thought, watching determination replace fear in his companions' eyes.
The sensation unsettled him—but there was no time to examine it now. The corruption was spreading, the clock was ticking, and somewhere on this dying ship, his artifacts waited to be found.