“Escape pod. The old Mark Sevens—they had a stealth layer. Classified. I used it the second you sealed the doors. Dropped into the sea before the main reactor went critical.” He coughed, a wet, horrible sound. “Been here ever since. The pod’s recyclers… they gave out five years ago. I’ve been breathing scrubber sludge and eating nutrient paste that expired before the war.”
She closed her fingers around the chip. “I promise.” Ccg 8.1.4
The letters glowed amber on the slate’s cracked screen. No context. No sender ID. Just the code. “Escape pod
The slate pinged again. Coordinates bloomed across the screen. Not the gas giant’s upper atmosphere. Not the wreckage. A deep, geosynchronous lock on a fissure at the bottom of the southern methane sea. I used it the second you sealed the doors
Ccg 8.1.4 wasn’t a message. It was a ghost.
Mercer didn’t ask questions. He just looked at her face and said, “Where to, Captain?”