The air in the small access room was cold but clean, devoid of the chemical smell of the shaft we'd just left. We cautiously exited through the door leading to the research level corridor. The contrast with the dusty bowels of the tunnels was stark. This level was pristine, with smooth walls made of a material that resembled an advanced alloy, recessed lighting that eliminated shadows, and a near-silence broken only by the soft whirring of electronic equipment and the muffled echo of our own cautious footsteps. It felt clinical, sterile, with an air of intense scientific concentration... and an underlying sense of surveillance.
We moved slowly down the corridor, our eyes scanning every detail. The doors to the labs and offices were sealed, with digital ID panels and, in some cases, retinal or palm scanners. There were no windows to the outside, only screens displaying scientific data or complex graphs. This was the inner sanctum of Aqua-Sol on 73P, where the most valuable and dangerous secrets were handled.
Kael led the way, moving with the same quiet efficiency he'd demonstrated in the tunnels, but with even greater caution. This was his turf, the place where he'd had to play his dangerous game of simulation. I followed close behind, my mind recording every visual and auditory detail. The absence of personnel in sight was as noticeable as it was unsettling. Was everyone in the labs? Or had security cleared the corridors as an extra precaution after the briefcase incident?
"Hanson's lab should be around here," Kael whispered, stopping at a crossroads and consulting his insider knowledge of the blueprints once more. "Sector Gamma-7. It's one of the largest labs on this level, equipped for the analysis of advanced cryogenic materials."
As we moved toward the indicated sector, I noticed something. A faint scent in the air, different from the clean air of the corridor. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but I recognized the scent: the pungent, chemical smell of the Chimeric Compound, albeit very diluted. We were close. The material was handled here.
We passed several identical lab doors, each a fortress in itself. I could hear the whirring of equipment behind some, the murmur of muffled voices in others. Was Hanson in her lab? Or had she been moved after our conversation and the briefcase incident? Uncertainty was a constant companion.
At a bend in the corridor, Kael stopped abruptly and signaled me to press myself against the wall. I strained my ears. I heard footsteps. Methodical, heavy. And they were getting closer. We merged into the shadow of a recess in the wall, holding our breath.
A moment later, a corporate security patrol rounded the corner. There were three guards, wearing the same crisp uniforms and carrying weapons I'd seen before, moving with military discipline. They swept the corridor with their gazes and the beams of their weapon-mounted flashlights, despite the bright lighting. They left nothing to chance. They passed us without seeing us, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the corridor before fading into the distance. Relief was a sharp pang. We were in the heart of enemy territory, and security here was relentless.
We continued our journey to Hanson, the encounter with the patrol a reminder of the precariousness of our situation. Kael pointed to a door ahead. "This is Sector Gamma-7. Your lab should be one of these."
Each door represented a risk. It could be Hanson's lab, but it could also be that of a colleague loyal to Aqua-Sol, or worse, a covert security outpost. We needed a way to identify the correct lab without setting off alarms or alerting anyone.
Kael approached the ID panel on the first door, pulling out another electronic device. He placed it against the panel, and a series of lights blinked on the device's surface. "I'll try accessing the internal ID system," he whispered. "Just to see the names associated with these labs. It's risky; it'll trigger a low-level signal if the system is closely monitored."
"Make it quick," I said, my gaze fixed on the corridor in both directions.
Kael's device emitted a soft beep as it connected. Lines of text began to appear on its small screen. She quickly scrolled through the information. Scientist names, project codes. And then we saw it.
"Lab Gamma-7B. Dr. Lena Hanson. Project Chimeric: Stability and Applications," Kael read softly.
We had found it. The door was right in front of us. Hanson's lab. The tension in the air soared. After all the risk, the infiltration, the chase, we were only a few meters away from our primary objective. But the final challenge—accessing the lab and finding Hanson—was right in front of us. Would she be inside? Would she be alone? Would she be able to help us?
I stared at the reinforced metal door, the final barrier between us and Dr. Hanson. I knew we couldn't simply knock or try to force our way in loudly. We needed a plan, a method to access that lab without alerting the entire base. And time, always time, felt like an implacable enemy on this high-security level in the frozen heart of 73P. Rescuing the truth and the woman guarding it depended on how we managed to cross that threshold. The climax was drawing closer, and the door to Hanson's lab felt like the gateway to destiny itself.
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