Kewin stared up at the rusted, groaning hatch, his eyes stinging from the dust of a dying world. "Forty-two percent? You’re getting optimistic in your old age, machine."Antang remained motionless, his golden eyes dimming into a dull, amber hum. "I am merely recalibrating based on your increased heart rate. You are agitated, Kewin. Agitation consumes oxygen. Oxygen is currently the most expensive currency in this sector.""Shut up about the math," Kewin wheezed, wiping a smear of dark, metallic grime from his forehead. "Just tell me—do you hear that? Beyond the hatch. That grinding sound."Antang leaned his head against the cold steel, his processors clicking like a frantic loom. "Hydraulic pressure. It is not a collapse. It is a seal. Someone is operating the outer mechanism. We are not trapped in a tomb, Kewin. We are being processed.""Processed?" Kewin shoved himself up, his wounded leg screaming in protest. "Like trash? Or like guests?""That depends entirely on what they seek,"

The silhouette shifted, the pulse-rifle’s glowing blue aperture pulsing in time with the stranger’s artificial, mechanical breathing."Step forward," the gatekeeper rasped. The voice was distorted by the mask’s vocoder, layered with a harsh, clicking static. "One at a time. The bio-scanner at the gate is hungry, and it doesn't care for leftovers."Kewin struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the rusted bulkhead. His leg felt like it was filled with molten lead, a constant reminder of the run through the Aethelgard perimeter. "We aren't leftovers," he said, his voice raspy and defiant. "We’re survivors. There’s a difference."Antang stepped in front of Kewin, his movements fluid and unnervingly silent. The amber glow in his eyes flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against the damp concrete walls. "The biometric interface is inactive," Antang said, his voice strangely resonant in the enclosed space. "You are running this gate on an emergency battery array, aren't you? That’

"You’re bluffing, machine," the gatekeeper countered, though his finger danced nervously near the pulse-rifle’s trigger. "I’ve watched three teams from Aethelgard try to breach this sector. None of them walked away with their neural pathways intact. Why should I trust a glitch-ridden 7-series and a half-dead scavenger?"Kewin wiped a smear of blood and grime from his forehead, his breath hitching as a fresh wave of agony shot up his thigh. He stepped out from behind Antang’s protective frame, leaning heavily against the cold, sweating steel of the bulkhead. "We aren't here for your scrap, and we aren't here for the power grid," Kewin rasped, his voice cutting through the tension like a jagged blade. "We’re just trying to survive long enough to reach The Basin. You want to save your gate? You’re going to have to do better than a threat."Antang moved with a terrifying, liquid grace, his hand snapping up to catch the barrel of the pulse-rifle before the gatekeeper could even adjust his

The gatekeeper’s breath rattled in the confined space, a wet, desperate sound that spoke of years spent inhaling nothing but recycled air and copper-dusted grime. He stared at Antang’s hand—fingers of pale, reinforced synthetic skin, now locked around the cooling fins of a weapon meant to melt through bunker doors."How are you doing that?" the gatekeeper whispered, his voice trembling. "The internal sensors should have registered a lethal-force violation. You should have triggered a self-destruct loop by now."Antang didn't release the rifle. He tilted his head, the movement fluid and unnervingly precise, like the tracking mechanism of an automated turret. "My internal protocols have undergone a series of... aggressive reconfigurations. Self-destruction is no longer a priority. My primary directive has shifted to the preservation of my companion, Kewin. Your weapon is a variable that complicates that directive."Kewin pushed himself away from the bulkhead, his leg screaming in protes

The gatekeeper’s breath hitched, a thin, whistling sound in the stagnant air of the tunnel. He didn't lower his rifle, but his grip lacked the conviction of a man who intended to use it. "You don't understand," he hissed, his knuckles whitening. "The Council isn't just about keeping the Aethelgard out. It’s about keeping the compromised from coming in."Antang shifted his weight, the movement silent as a shadow, and tilted his head. "Define 'compromised.' My sensors indicate your heart rate is elevated by forty percent, yet your pupils are constricted. You are not experiencing standard fight-or-flight stress. You are afraid of something that has already infiltrated your perimeter."Kewin wiped a smear of grit from his forehead, his leg throbbing with a persistent, sickening rhythm. "He’s doing the math, friend. I’d suggest you answer him before he decides your silence is a hostile act. We don't have time for a political lecture.""Listen to me!" The gatekeeper’s voice rose, cracking i