The air near the vault gate was thick with the musty scent of decay and metal. The faint hum that had accompanied them deeper into the facility grew louder here, a subtle vibration that seemed to come from the walls themselves. Snow adjusted her grip on her longshooter, her sharp eyes flicking across the towering gate. The metal surface was pockmarked with rust but still gleamed faintly in places, as though the Old Ones had built it to withstand the erosion of centuries.
Gemma approached the gate, her steps careful but unhurried. Her eyes scanned the ancient access panel beside it, fingers brushing dust away to reveal faded markings etched into the metal. "This is it," she said, her voice carrying a mix of awe and clinical detachment. "The main control hub lies behind this gate. If there's a working thinking box anywhere in Deep-1, it'll be there."
Rain stood beside her, craning her neck to take in the sheer size of the vault door. Her face was lit with a mixture of wonder and nervous energy. "How old do you think this place is?"
"Older than the Collapse, that's for sure," Gemma replied, pulling a tool from her belt and prodding at the access panel. "Possibly centuries older. Facilities like this weren't built for convenience. They were built to last. See that?" She gestured to the faint glow of the panel as it sputtered to life under her tinkering. "That means there's still power running through the place. Probably a hidden reactor, self-sustaining, keeping the lights on for all this time."
Rain's eyes widened. "A reactor? Still working after all these years? That's incredible!"
"Incredible and dangerous," Gemma muttered. "Anything capable of running this long without maintenance is bound to have its share of quirks. But if we're lucky, it means the thinking boxes inside are still operational. All we need to do is—"
A faint clattering noise echoed from the corridor behind them.
Snow was on her feet in an instant, her longshooter raised, scanning the shadows. "Something's coming," she said, her voice low but tense.
The sound grew louder, a metallic scraping that sent a chill through the air. Then, from the gloom, they emerged: humanoid figures of polished steel, their faces featureless but for glowing red slits where eyes might have been. They moved in unison, their limbs jerking with an eerie precision.
"What the hell are those?" Snow growled, taking a step back.
"Sentinels," Gemma said grimly, retreating toward the others. "Automated defense units. The Old Ones used them to guard sensitive locations. They're built to withstand almost anything—and programmed to kill intruders on sight."
The Sentinels surged forward, their claws glinting in the dim light.
Snow didn't wait. She fired her longshooter, the sharp crack of the shot echoing in the enclosed space. The bullet struck one of the Sentinels square in the chest—but instead of falling, the thing barely flinched, the round ricocheting harmlessly off its metal frame.
"They're armored!" Snow shouted, ejecting the spent casing and chambering another round.
"No kidding!" Gemma snapped, pulling a wrench from her belt and hurling it at another Sentinel. It clanged off its head with no effect. "Primitive weapons won't work on them. That's high-grade steel—nothing you have is going to scratch it!"
"They've got claws and we've got nothing!" Rain yelped, grabbing a rusted wrench off the ground and clutching it like a lifeline.
The Sentinels were on them in seconds. Snow dropped her longshooter and drew her knife, darting forward to slash at the nearest machine. The blade scraped against the steel with a horrible screech, leaving only the faintest scratch. A Sentinel swung its clawed arm toward her, and she ducked, rolling to the side and coming up with her knife ready.
Rain, meanwhile, swung her wrench at another Sentinel, the impact jarring her arms but doing little to the machine. It turned on her, its claw raised to strike. Rain's eyes widened, and she stumbled back, dropping the wrench.
"Rain!" Snow roared, lunging toward her.
The Sentinel's claw descended, and Rain raised her arms in a futile attempt to shield herself. But before the blow could land, Snow threw herself between them, slashing wildly with her knife. The Sentinel hesitated, its glowing eyes fixed on her as though recalibrating its target.
"Get back!" Snow snarled, shoving Rain behind her.
"I can't—" Rain stammered, tears streaming down her face.
"Just stay behind me!" Snow snapped, turning back to face the advancing machines.
Gemma, meanwhile, had retreated to the far side of the corridor, rummaging frantically through her bag. "Keep them busy!" she shouted, pulling out a small, spherical device covered in wires and glowing nodes.
"What the hell are you doing?" Snow yelled, dodging another swipe from a Sentinel.
"Fixing this mess!" Gemma snapped, twisting something on the device and tossing it toward the center of the Sentinel horde. "Get your heads down!"
Snow didn't hesitate. She grabbed Rain and dragged her to the ground, covering her with her body as the device exploded in a burst of light and sound.
The Sentinels froze, their glowing eyes flickering and dying. One by one, they collapsed, their limbs locking as their circuits fried. The silence that followed was deafening.
Gemma approached the pile of deactivated Sentinels, kicking one lightly to ensure it was truly dead. "Shockbanger," she said smugly, holding up a second device. "EMP grenade. Works like a charm."
Snow got to her feet, hauling Rain up with her. "You could've warned us sooner," she muttered, glaring at Gemma.
"Didn't have time," Gemma said, brushing dust off her coat. "You're welcome, by the way."
Rain leaned against Snow, still trembling but managing a shaky smile. "Thanks… both of you."
Snow sighed, patting her on the shoulder. "Let's just take a minute before something else tries to kill us."
The three of them collapsed against the wall, catching their breath. The faint hum of the facility's power system continued around them, a reminder that Deep-1 was far from done with them.
Once they'd recovered, Gemma turned her attention back to the vault gate. The access panel flickered weakly, its screen covered in layers of grime. Gemma wiped it clean and began tapping at the controls, muttering under her breath.
After a moment, the gate shuddered, releasing a burst of stale air as its massive hinges groaned to life. Slowly, the door slid open, revealing the room beyond.
Rows of dormant thinking boxes filled the space, their dark screens and tangled wires creating an eerie, skeletal appearance. At the far end of the room, a massive screen loomed over them, its surface cracked but intact.
Rain stepped forward, her awe overcoming her fear. "This… this is incredible," she whispered.
"Welcome to the control hub," Gemma said, a rare note of satisfaction in her voice. "Let's see what secrets the Old Ones left behind."
————————————————————————————————————————————
The stillness of the room felt sacred, like stepping into the hushed chambers of a forgotten cathedral. Dust motes floated lazily in the faint light of Gemma's headlamp as she crouched beside the main control module, her deft fingers prying open a panel with the precision of a surgeon. Around them, the dormant thinking boxes loomed, their dark screens like empty eyes watching silently.
"Is it safe?" Rain asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she hovered near the door, clutching the wrench she had yet to let go of.
"For now," Snow muttered, pacing near the entrance with her knife at the ready. Her longshooter was slung across her back, useless against the Sentinels' armor but still a comforting weight. "But I don't like this. Too many corners, too many places for something to jump out."
Gemma didn't look up. "If you'd rather face the Sentinels out there, be my guest," she said, her tone dry. She twisted something inside the control module, and the screen above her crackled to life, its dull glow bathing the room in cold light.
Rain edged closer, drawn by curiosity despite her nerves. "What are you doing?"
"Restoring power to the thinking boxes," Gemma replied, pulling another tool from her belt. "If we want answers, this is the only way. These things are connected—like a web. Fix the main node, and the rest should follow."
Snow frowned, watching Gemma work with a mixture of unease and admiration. "And what if it activates something worse than the Sentinels?"
"Then we'll have bigger problems," Gemma said bluntly, giving the panel a final shove before stepping back.
The room shuddered. One by one, the thinking boxes around them flickered to life, their screens glowing faintly at first before brightening into sharp, steady light. The hum of power filled the air, rising to a low, mechanical whine as the dormant systems woke from their centuries-long sleep.
Gemma exhaled and turned to Rain, gesturing to one of the boxes. "Now's your turn, dreamer. Insert the drive."
Rain hesitated, her fingers brushing against the small data drive tucked safely in her pocket. Snow stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Rain interrupted, her voice firm despite the tremble in her hands. She stepped forward and slotted the drive into the waiting port on one of the thinking boxes.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden jolt, the giant screen at the far end of the room blazed to life, its cracked surface flickering as lines of code scrolled rapidly across it. The hum grew louder, the machines around them clicking and whirring as if whispering to one another.
A voice echoed through the room, calm and measured, with a faint metallic undertone. "This is Solus-9, planetary oversight and monitoring satellite. Playback of emergency log initiated."
Rain's eyes widened as the flickering lines on the screen resolved into an image: a sleek, mechanical face with glowing blue eyes, unmistakably artificial yet somehow expressive. It turned its gaze downward, as if addressing the trio directly.
"This message is for any survivors of the Collapse," the AI said, its voice steady but tinged with something that almost resembled sorrow. "You have found this facility, and with it, the last hope for this world. Paradise is lost."
"Paradise?" Rain whispered, her breath catching.
The AI continued, unheeding. "The brain—the planetary administrative artificial intelligence that maintained Paradise—has ceased to function. Its systems are offline, its structural integrity compromised. However, data from the Solus-9 satellite confirms that the stabilized ecosystem remains viable. The terraforming protocol, if activated, can restore the world to its intended state."
Snow's brow furrowed. "Terraforming? What the hell does that mean?"
"It means fixing the planet," Gemma said, her tone flat. "Or trying to."
The AI's voice grew more urgent. "Whoever receives this message, the responsibility now falls to you. Go to Paradise. Activate the terraforming protocol. Finish what we could not. Save this world."
The screen flickered, and a map appeared, its digital grid overlaying a satellite image of the scarred landscape. A red dot pulsed in the center, marking a location far to the west. Beneath it, a line of text scrolled: Paradise Access Point.
Rain stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the map. "It's real," she breathed. "We could—"
"We could what?" Snow cut in, her voice sharp. "Trust the words of some Old Ones' machine? For all we know, this is a trap—or worse, a waste of time."
Rain turned to her, her expression pleading. "But what if it's not? What if this is the answer? The way to make everything better?"
Gemma snorted, folding her arms. "Better? Look around you, dreamer. This world's been nothing but rot and ruin for longer than we've been alive. You think flipping a switch in some mythical 'Paradise' is going to change that?"
"I have to try," Rain said quietly, reaching out to the map as if she could touch the glowing red dot. She withdrew the printed map from the thinking box and rolled it into a tube, securing it tightly in her hands.
Snow sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're impossible, you know that?"
Before Rain could respond, a distant clanging echoed through the facility. The sound grew louder, a metallic cacophony that sent a chill down Snow's spine.
"What now?" she muttered, gripping her knife.
Gemma's eyes darted toward the door. "Sentinels," she said grimly. "The system must've triggered them when we accessed the log."
Rain's face paled. "But we just—"
"No time for excuses," Snow snapped, pulling Rain toward the far side of the room. "We need to move. Now."
The commotion grew louder, the unmistakable sound of steel on steel reverberating through the halls. Snow could already picture them: dozens of the hulking machines, claws outstretched, their glowing eyes burning with mechanical intent.
Gemma grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, pulling out another of her EMP grenades. "This'll buy us a few seconds, but it's not enough to take them all out."
Rain clutched the map case to her chest, her heart hammering. "What do we do?"
"We run," Snow said, her voice firm. "We get the hell out of here and figure it out later."
Gemma nodded, her face set. "Stick close to me. And whatever happens, don't stop moving."
The trio sprinted toward the far exit, the sound of the Sentinels closing in behind them like the drumbeat of an oncoming storm.