1.39: Detbitinis Autobusos Terminalas

Kaelen clutched a small, vibrating data-cube in his pocket. It was the only thing he’d managed to pull from the mainframe before the sirens started. He wasn't supposed to be here. In the upper tiers, the buses were gold-plated and ran on sunlight. Down here at 1.39, they ran on desperation and old code.

The Scrapper lunged. Kaelen was faster. He vaulted over the bench, his boots clattering against the metal grating. He dived through the closing doors of the 404 just as the Scrapper’s metal fingers scraped against the glass. DETBITINIS AUTOBUSOS TERMINALAS 1.39

The overhead display flickered.

"The 404 doesn't go anywhere," the man laughed. "That’s why they call it the Void." Kaelen clutched a small, vibrating data-cube in his pocket

Just then, a low-frequency rumble shook the floor. A battered, matte-black bus pulled into Bay 12. Its doors hissed open, releasing a cloud of cooling vapor. There was no driver, only a flickering holographic interface of an old woman knitting. In the upper tiers, the buses were gold-plated

He leaned back, the data-cube finally going cold in his hand. At Terminal 1.39, getting lost was the only way to be found.

A shadow fell over him. It wasn't a peacekeeper—they didn't come this deep—but a "Scrapper," a man whose cybernetic eyes glowed a dull, hungry red.