The Glass Siphon.
933 Words
The white light receded, leaving the street a graveyard of molten slag. The Shadow-Sentinels were now warped, glowing husks slumped on the pavement. The energy shields had shattered into holographic fragments that flickered in the air like dying fireflies.
Cameron groaned, his lungs burning. He was still clutching Brittany’s hand, his fingers white-knuckled.
"Jax… you still with me?"
"I’m alive," Jax’s voice crackled from the stalled crawler. The windshield was spider-webbed from the heat. "But the Mule is dead, Cam. She gave everything to ground that surge. We’re sitting ducks."
Cameron looked at Brittany. She was terrifyingly still. The red light in her chest hadn't disappeared; it had settled into a low, menacing throb.
"Brittany? Hey, Princess. Stay with me." He shook her gently. "You just took out three Sentinels. Don't quit now."
Her eyes fluttered open—liquid gold clouded by grey mist. "Did… did it stop?"
"The robots? Yeah. The timer? Not even close." Cameron looked up at a flickering neon sign three blocks down. "We move. On foot."
"I can't," she whispered. "My legs… they feel like lead."
"Then I’m carrying you. Again." Cameron scooped her up, his muscles screaming.
They reached the reinforced steel door of Sloane’s workshop just as a distant siren began to wail. Cameron kicked the door with his last bit of strength.
"Sloane! Open up! It’s Ellis!"
A small slit in the door slid open. A bionic eye whirred, scanning Cameron’s face before dropping to the glowing girl.
"You’ve brought a sun-bomb to my doorstep, Cameron," a gravelly voice echoed. "Why shouldn't I vent the oxygen in this hallway?"
"Because if she goes off, your workshop becomes a crater," Cameron snapped. "Open the damn door, Sloane!"
The pneumatic bolts thunked. The door hissed open, revealing a cavern filled with aircraft skeletons and humming capacitors. Sloane stood there, a shock of grey hair and a mechanical arm that hissed. She held a pulse rifle aimed at Brittany’s heart.
"Put her on the table," Sloane commanded. "If that core spikes, I’m putting a round through her head. It’s cleaner."
"You touch her and you’ll find out how fast I move," Cameron growled, lowering Brittany onto the metal slab.
Sloane pulled a holographic scanner over Brittany. Red warning symbols flooded the air. "Gods… It’s a Glass Siphon. She’s pulling static from the atmosphere and converting it into thermal energy. She has nowhere to dump the overflow."
"Can you stop the timer?" Cameron asked.
"It’s tied to her heart rate," Sloane muttered. "The more scared she gets, the faster it ticks. You’ve brought me a girl dying of terror."
Brittany reached out, her fingers searching for Cameron’s hand. He stepped forward, ignoring Sloane’s rifle.
"Is it... is it going to hurt?" Brittany asked.
"Honey," Sloane said, "the fact that you’re still breathing is a miracle."
"Sloane, talk to me," Cameron pressed. "What do we do?"
"We need a Sink. I can drain the excess into the Shallows' power grid. It’ll light up the district, but it gives her a chance to cool down. But there's a catch."
"There’s always a catch."
"The connection is manual," Sloane said, looking grim. "Someone has to hold the cables to her skin while I cycle the Siphon. The feedback will be intense. If you let go, the surge goes back into her and she pops."
Cameron didn't hesitate. He stepped up to the table. "What cables?"
"Cameron, no," Brittany whispered. "You saw what I did to the robots. You'll die."
"I’ve lived in the dark my whole life, Princess. I think I can handle a little light."
Sloane handed him two heavy, lead-lined clamps. "Wait for the pulse. When the light hits her eyes, you clamp down. And don't scream. It’ll make her heart rate spike."
The room began to hum. The blue gas in the machine swirled into a sapphire blur. Brittany’s back arched, her golden eyes flying open.
"Now!" Sloane yelled.
Cameron slammed the clamps onto Brittany’s wrists.
The world turned into a tunnel of screaming white noise. It felt like his blood was being replaced with molten lead. His vision went black, then red. He could feel Brittany’s pulse—a frantic, lightning-fast rhythm.
"Hold on!" Sloane’s voice sounded miles away. "60 per cent..."
Cameron’s boots began to smoke. He couldn't feel his arms. He looked at Brittany. She was looking at her, tears of gold flowing down her temples.
"90 per cent! Stabilising!"
With a final jolt, the machine let out a deep thud. The clamps fell from Cameron’s hands. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, his hands shaking violently.
The red light in Brittany’s chest was gone, replaced by a soft golden hum. The room dropped back to a freezing chill.
"Did... we do it?" Brittany whispered.
Sloane pointed to a proximity sensor. It was blinking a frantic green. "The surge is drained. The timer is reset. But we didn't disarm it, Cameron. We just bought time."
Cameron looked up, his face covered in soot. "How much time?"
"Enough for Vane to track that power surge," Sloane said. "He’s not sending robots this time. He’s coming himself."
The sound of a metallic boot hit the floor outside. The metal door began to turn cherry-red as something on the other side started to melt through the steel.
"He's here," Brittany whispered.
- Writer
