Chapter 23 - Last night

Sol sat in Darik's back room, his eyes fixed on the holographic display in front of him. The White Tower. Even through the pixelated screen, the planet's crystalline peaks gleamed under the twin suns of IOK-1. It was beautiful—unlike anything he had ever seen. A small smile crept onto his face before he caught himself. 

Darik noticed and smirked. "Aren't you a cute one?"

Sol flushed, quickly changing the subject. "How long does the trip take normally? And how far is it from here?"

Darik leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the desk. "No need to be in such a rush. Let me take care of some things first. DreamCorp is still everywhere, searching for you. I'll need to take extra precautions this time, but we should be ready to go in about a day or so."

Sol's eyes widened. "A day? That soon?"

"Tsk, who do you think I am?" Darik scoffed. "I have my own connections. Otherwise, that old fossil wouldn't have sent you to me."

Sol felt his chest tighten. Voska. Even now, after everything, his teacher was still paving the way for him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and quickly moved on. "And how long will the trip take?"

Darik rubbed her chin. "Normally? Three to four months—if you're traveling through the wormholes controlled by the Federation."

Sol frowned. "Wormholes?"

Darik raised an eyebrow. "You've never traveled off-world before, have you?"

Sol shook his head. "Never left Galvaris Prime."

Darik sighed, then launched into an explanation. "Wormhole technology was a collaboration project between two of the top ten races—the Aetherians and the Mechari. The exact science behind it? Top secret. But their work has made the Federation's expansion possible. What used to take decades now takes weeks. You're lucky, kid—without it, you'd spend a lifetime reaching your destination."

Sol sat in stunned silence. The sheer scope of it was overwhelming. They created wormholes? Living beings built something that bends space itself? He couldn't wrap his head around it, but it only fueled his curiosity. His mind raced with questions, and before he knew it, he was asking them—one after another.

Darik chuckled, amused. The kid was sharp, no doubt about that. His questions weren't surface-level—they dug deeper, always a step ahead of what she expected. Hours passed in conversation before Darik finally put up a hand. "Alright, alright, enough questions. It's already dark outside. I need to start prepping your way out and packing."

Sol blinked, a little embarrassed. "Wait—why are you packing?"

Darik gave him a knowing look. "You think your friends at DreamCorp won't find this place?"

Sol's stomach twisted. His teacher's lab had been destroyed, his home was compromised, and now the one place giving him shelter was in danger too. He clenched his fists.

Seeing his shift in expression, Darik laughed. "Don't worry about it, kid. Wouldn't be the first time DreamCorp's after me."

With that, she stood and stretched. Before leaving the room, she turned to Gru. "Take the kid to the spare room. Let him rest. He might not have another chance for a while."

Gru gave Sol a look before jerking his head toward the hallway. "Come on, slummer."

Sol took one last glance at the White Tower on the screen before following him. Tomorrow, everything would change.

---

Far from Darik's hideout, DreamCorp forces were closing in on the Black Market. A convoy of armored vehicles moved in careful formation, their engines humming low as they neared the slums' underbelly. At their center, a squad of high-ranking operatives methodically scanned for any signs of Sol's whereabouts. Their scanners detected faint traces—residual energy readings, small but distinct footprints leading toward the underground network. He was close.

A soldier adjusted his visor, his voice steady but urgent. "Commander, we've got faint movement patterns leading toward the eastern district. Possible remnants from the target."

The squad leader, a cold-eyed veteran named Voss, narrowed his gaze. "Expand the perimeter. I want eyes on every entry and exit point. No mistakes this time."

As DreamCorp tightened their grip, Serik sat in a darkened chamber deep within the Vultures' hideout, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his throne-like chair. The room reeked of sweat, smoke, and tension. A comm device buzzed beside him, one of his informants reporting in.

"Boss," the voice crackled. "DreamCorp's making moves near the Black Market. They're sniffing around hard."

Serik exhaled slowly, irritation rolling off him in waves. "And what about our scouts?"

A nervous pause. "We… still haven't located the kid."

Serik's grip tightened. "Unacceptable." His voice was dangerously low, sending a shiver through the informant's spine. "Time's running out. If DreamCorp finds him before we do, we're finished."

Meanwhile, back at Darik's base, Sol lay in the spare room, staring at the ceiling. His mind refused to rest. One more day. That's all that was left before he was off this forsaken planet. But he pulled himself back to reality—he wasn't out yet. Anything could go wrong. And if experience had taught him anything, it was that when things could go wrong, they usually did.

He exhaled, sitting up and pulling up his interface. He connected with one of his surviving spiders, letting its tiny frame skitter out into the alleyways beyond Darik's hideout. Sol's fingers hovered over the command prompts, letting the ACE System feed him real-time visuals. He scanned for anything unusual—subtle movements in the crowd, unfamiliar faces lingering too long in one place. He needed to know if trouble was coming.

And he had a feeling it was.