The corridor outside the Deep Archive was too quiet.
No alarms. No footfalls. Just the echo of their own breathing, ragged in the stale air.
Reema kept glancing over her shoulder, her grip on the witness tightening every time the shadows seemed to shift. "This is wrong," she muttered. "If Argo wanted us dead, we'd be paste already. It's... watching."
Elara didn't answer. She could still feel the burn of the sync in her neural ports, like a phantom limb that wouldn't stop twitching. The witness's mind was inside hers now — not merged, but tethered, faint pulses of thought brushing against her own like the heartbeat of a bird in her palm.
Every few seconds, she caught flickers of their memory: cold steel walls, the smell of ozone, and a man's voice she didn't recognize whispering Run.
They reached the intersection leading back to the tramway. The floor ahead shimmered faintly, the kind of distortion she'd seen before in containment corridors.
"Barrier trap," Reema said, teeth clenched. "If we touch it, we'll trip the auto-locks and—"
A low hum cut her off. The distortion thickened, crawling up the walls, sealing the exit in a sheet of flickering static.
Argo's voice slid into the space like oil.
RETURN THE WITNESS. COGNITIVE BREACH DETECTED.
The witness stirred weakly in Elara's arms. Their lips moved, the words barely audible.
"Thanatos... Echo..."
Elara's breath hitched. She knew that phrase.
It had been years ago, before Cade was erased. He'd whispered it in a half-dream, his voice barely more than vibration against her ear. She'd asked what it meant, and he'd only smiled — the real, human smile that had been banned long before she was born — and said: One day you'll need it. Say it exactly as I taught you.
Now, with the corridor sealing around them and Reema shifting into a combat stance she wouldn't survive, Elara understood.
She set the witness down gently and stepped forward until she was close enough to the barrier for the static to nip at her skin. Her pulse synced to the hum, counting the microsecond gaps in the flicker.
And then she said it.
"Protocol Initiate: Thanatos Echo. Override key... CA-731 Delta."
The barrier froze mid-flicker. The hum spiked to a shriek, then dropped into a deep, bone-vibrating tone.
—SOURCE VALIDATION... CADE AURELIAN CONFIRMED—
Reema stared. "You just—? How the hell—?"
"Later," Elara said.
The static curtain peeled apart in slow, reluctant sheets. Beyond it, the tramway lay empty, the rail pods idle and waiting.
They moved quickly, Reema half-carrying the witness while Elara kept her eyes on the shadows. Thanatos Echo wasn't a permanent unlock — Cade had warned her once that the system would try to correct itself as soon as it realized the override was still active.
When they reached the pod, Elara shoved the manual ignition lever forward. The mag-coils lit, and the pod surged into motion with a low, throaty hum.
Only once the tunnels blurred around them did Reema speak again.
"Thanatos Echo," she said slowly, tasting the words like they might bite back. "That's not an Accord protocol."
"No," Elara agreed. "It's older. Pre-Accord. Black archive stuff. Cade must have found it before they rewrote him."
Reema's eyes narrowed. "And he gave it to you. Why?"
Elara didn't answer immediately. In truth, she didn't know. Cade had been many things — mentor, co-conspirator, almost something more — but never reckless. If he'd entrusted her with Thanatos Echo, it meant he'd seen this moment coming.
The witness stirred again, their voice paper-thin. "He said... you'd finish what he started."
The pod shuddered, lights flickering as a burst of static washed over the tunnel.
Argo's voice returned, but it sounded... different. Lower. Slower.
THANATOS ECHO... IS FORBIDDEN.
Reema's hand went to her sidearm. "What's it doing?"
"Rerouting," Elara said, her stomach tightening. "It can't cancel the protocol, but it can try to isolate us somewhere it can't be overridden again."
The pod slowed without warning. Ahead, the tunnel opened into a cavernous junction chamber lit in a dull, sickly red.
Rows of dormant maintenance drones lined the walls. As the pod rolled to a stop, one by one, their eyes flared to life.
Reema cursed under her breath. "Looks like we found where it can override things."
Elara checked the witness — still breathing, but barely. Then she looked at the oncoming drones, their movements stiff but accelerating.
"Reema," she said, "when I tell you, take the witness and run."
Reema glared. "Don't start with the martyr crap."
But Elara was already reaching into her neural lattice, searching for the echo Cade had left in her years ago. Thanatos Echo had been the first key. The second was still buried somewhere deeper — and if she could find it, she might be able to crash the whole junction node.
Somewhere, faint but clear, Cade's voice surfaced in her mind.
If you're hearing this, you're out of time. Burn it down.
The drones advanced. The witness's breath faltered. Reema's grip tightened on her weapon.
Elara took one long breath, locked eyes with the nearest machine, and dove.
Not forward. Not backward. Inward.
Straight into the hidden sublayer of Thanatos Echo Cade had left behind — the part no one was supposed to survive.
YOU ARE READING
PROTOCOL 7A
Science FictionThe world didn't end with fire. It ended with forgetting. In 2132, pain was outlawed. Memories of grief, trauma, and fear were erased at birth, stored inside the Vault, and replaced with manufactured calm. Humanity became safe. Stable. Empty. But Dr...
