Chapter 6

Sera Westbrook's POV

I'd been at the base for two days, and everything was going smoothly. The weather outside was gradually clearing, and the spores were about to fade. In a few more days, I might have to leave.

At night, I lay beside Vera. She shared a few bites of her nutrient paste with me and chattered on about her old job.

When she finished, she asked me, "What did you used to do?"

I tried hard to remember, but what came back instead was more scenes of being with Kyle, and a mass of meaningless blank images.

I said, "A cashier, I guess. My work wasn't very steady."

Vera nodded. "That's nice too."

Then she got off the bed and busied herself in front of the cabinet for a while. She came back with a tray and stood in front of me. "Let's just eat something simple tonight."

I waved my hand. "No, I just had a proper meal."

Vera grinned. "Then have a snack."

She was very kind by nature and very good to me.

But I hadn't received kindness in a long time, and I didn't quite know what to do with it.

From what I'd observed, the base was short on food and shouldn't be able to afford luxuries like snacks. What Vera had prepared for me was most likely saved out of her own rations.

I felt very awkward. "I won't eat it. You eat it."

"It's fine." Vera set the tray on my lap. "Try it. It's really good."

I couldn't refuse her warmth, so I took a bite of the soda cracker and asked quietly, "Why are you so good to me?"

Vera smiled happily. "Because you're both strong and pretty. Who wouldn't like you?"

Her praise made me uncomfortable. "Thanks…"

Vera and I spent a pleasant evening together. At noon, I left the room and went down to the first floor.

Jax was crouched in front of the junction box for the comms link, half his body buried under the machinery, only his feet sticking out. He seemed to have seen me through a mirror and greeted me. "Good afternoon, Miss Sera. What model is your wristband? I've never seen one like it."

I frowned. I really couldn't remember the model. "I forgot."

I'd even forgotten how it had come to me.

"Oh." He coiled up the wire. "Then yesterday—did you see that damaged lift on the left?"

I said, "I saw it. Two guide rails were broken, and the remaining one was loaded in the wrong direction. It wouldn't hold up to a second aftershock."

He let out a soft hum, stuffed the wire back into the box, and smiled. "You've got a clear head."

I tilted my head, not understanding why he'd said that. Ten seconds later, it hit me—he was actually talking to Cole.

Cole didn't answer. He moved a crate of water-purification capsules aside. The crate was heavy, and he caught it one-handed so it wouldn't hit the floor and make noise. I shifted half a step aside, leaving the spot I'd been standing in—it was against the wall, with a pillar in front, where the passage narrowed. Standing there, you could see both stairwells at once.

They were all testing me, really—my observation skills, my comprehension, whether I could keep up with their rhythm. I didn't mind.

In the afternoon, I passed by the medical room on the third floor. Taylor came from the opposite direction carrying an armful of parts, walking fast. As he passed, his shoulder brushed my sleeve, and he said offhandedly, "That armor plate you stepped on yesterday—the load-bearing's fine. Don't walk around it next time."

Then he was already at the other end of the corridor, his goggles swinging around his neck.

I stood frozen, staring at his back in surprise. Yesterday, on the first floor, I had indeed walked around a slightly darker panel—just half a step, and afterward I hadn't even noticed. I'd thought no one would find out.

Were they all watching me in secret?

Just then, the medical room door opened a crack, and Dorian's voice came out. "Don't be scared. He was just complimenting your observation skills. Don't take him too seriously—he's really not good at giving compliments."

I turned to look at the crack.

"What he just said," Dorian added, "counts as a long speech around here."

I nodded thoughtfully.

In the evening, Kyle called me up to the fourth floor.

The route map on the table was still held down in the same spot. He got straight to the point. "Starting today, I'll use neural resonance to take over your sensory feedback. Pain, fatigue, the warning signs before a breakdown—I'll perceive them for you."

I sat down across the tactical table, one hand resting on the edge. "I don't need that."

Kyle said, "I knew you'd say that."

I said, "Good that you know."

He didn't try to persuade me. He took off his gloves and set them on the table, pressing his palm flat against the western section of the route map. Then he explained how the neural resonance worked: when I had a sensation, it could be transmitted to Kyle through the neural resonance; the pathway that was broken in me would connect to a part of him.

His tone was steady as he spoke, without rise or fall, leaving no room for argument.

I looked at the hand pressed against the map and, for a moment, couldn't find anything to immediately refute. "Why."

He was silent for a long time—long enough that I thought he wasn't going to answer.

Then he sighed and said, "Because I'm worried about you."

I slowly raised my head to look at him, not quite understanding his intent.

If I remembered correctly, I was the one who'd proposed the breakup back then. Yet Kyle didn't mind at all—and now he actually wanted to share my pain. My heart was a mess of feelings, and I didn't know what to say. I could only lower my head and answer quietly, "Mm… let me think about it…"

Yesterday, Dorian had mentioned this to us, and Kyle had indeed agreed—but at the time I'd thought he was just saying it, and hadn't taken it seriously.

After all, I'd assumed the so-called neural resonance was just helping me connect the link. But it turned out to mean Kyle bearing my pain for me—and that was too much.

By nightfall, we still hadn't reached any conclusion. I was still hesitating. I didn't want to drag Kyle into this—there was no need for him to bear so much for me. I wanted him to be safer.

But Kyle's attitude was very firm. In the end, I had no choice but to agree. Unfortunately, just as he was about to speak, the white emergency light on the ceiling came on.

Odysseus's alarm blared through the room. Seven perimeter drones were destroyed in the same second, their signals winking out one after another—no struggle, no transmission. Then the ground vibration sensors all showed red. Dense movement signals surged out from the ruins to the west, layer upon layer, more numerous than everything I'd seen on the streets these past two days combined.

Kyle stood up and walked to the window, one hand braced on the frame. His brows furrowed slightly, and his hand slowly tightened.

Obviously, a crisis had arrived—and there were a great many enemies.

He turned back to look at me, seeming to trust me completely.

"Stay close to me."