Ashes from the West

The Broken Scientist

The Titan's corridors were a maze of identical steel passages, each one designed to confuse and disorient. Ronan moved through them with purpose, his tablet clutched in his hand, his eyes scanning for any sign of Storm's surveillance.

He'd been given access to the lab. He'd made his minor adjustments to the drone network. And now he was pushing his luck—wandering deeper into the ship than Storm had intended.

Two guards passed him, their eyes lingering. Ronan nodded at them, keeping his expression neutral. He was just another crew member. Nothing to see here.

But his heart was pounding.

He'd studied the ship's layout on the tablet. The brig was on the lower deck, near the engine room. That's where Storm would keep someone like Elira—isolated, secure, far from anyone who might try to help her.

He found the entrance to the brig. It was a heavy steel door, guarded by a single sentry.

"Identification," the guard said.

Ronan held up his tablet. "Admiral Storm sent me. I need to speak with the prisoner."

The guard's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't informed of any visit."

"Check your comms. The order came through an hour ago."

The guard hesitated. Then he raised his radio. "Command, this is Brig 7. I have a visitor claiming authorization. Can you confirm?"

Ronan held his breath. This was the moment. If Storm's command didn't back him up, he was dead.

There was a crackle of static. Then a voice: "Authorization confirmed. Let him through."

The guard stepped aside. The door slid open.

Ronan walked into the brig.

---

The cell was small and bare. A cot. A table. A single chair. And in the corner, curled up on the floor, was a woman.

Elira Ashford.

She was smaller than he'd expected—thin and gaunt, her hair a tangled mess of black and grey. Her clothes were dirty, her skin pale. She looked like a ghost.

Ronan closed the door behind him and knelt beside her.

"Elira," he said softly. "My name is Ronan Voss. I'm here to help you."

She didn't move. Her eyes were open, but they were glassy, unfocused.

"Elira. Can you hear me?"

Still nothing.

Ronan reached out and touched her shoulder. She flinched, pulling away, her eyes snapping into focus.

"Don't touch me," she said. Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

"I won't. I'm sorry. I just need to talk to you."

She stared at him, her eyes searching his face. "You're the weapons designer. The one who built the framework for the drones."

"Yes."

"You're working for him now."

"No. I'm working against him. He has my daughter. I'm trying to save her."

Elira's expression flickered—a flash of something that might have been recognition. "Your daughter. Lyra."

"You know about her?"

"Storm talks. He told me about you. About what you did. About how you refused to sign off on the live-fire testing."

Ronan nodded. "I made a mistake. I should have done more to stop him."

"You couldn't have stopped him. No one could." She pulled her knees to her chest. "He's too powerful. Too prepared. He's been planning this for years."

"Then we stop him together."

Elira laughed—a hollow, bitter sound. "Stop him? How? I've been in this cell for six months. I've watched him destroy everything I built. Everything I believed in. There's no stopping him."

"Elira, listen to me. I know you've given up hope. But I need you to find it again. I need your help."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only one who can build a kill switch for the drones. You designed the neural targeting algorithm. You know how to reverse-engineer it."

Elira shook her head. "It's not that simple. The algorithm is integrated into every drone. To disable it, you'd need access to the central core. And that's protected by layers of encryption that even I can't crack."

"Then we crack it together."

She looked at him, something flickering in her eyes. "You really think you can win this?"

"I know I can't win alone. But with your help, I might have a chance."

Elira was silent for a long moment. Then she said, "You're not the first person who's promised to save me. Storm promised to save the world, and look what he did."

"I'm not Storm."

"No. But you're still a man with a plan. And plans always go wrong."

Ronan met her gaze. "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to help me. For your sake. For the sake of everyone those drones are going to kill."

Elira's eyes drifted to the wall. She was silent so long that Ronan thought she'd retreated back into her catatonic state.

But then she said, "There's a maintenance shaft behind the third bulkhead. It leads to the engine room. The core is there."

Ronan's heart leaped. "The central core?"

"Yes. But it's guarded. Storm has a team of engineers monitoring it around the clock. If you try to access it, they'll know."

"Then we need a distraction."

"A big one."

Ronan nodded. "I'll figure something out. But first, I need to get you out of this cell."

Elira shook her head. "I can't leave. Storm will notice."

"Not if we make it look like an accident."

Ronan pulled out his tablet and began typing. He was working on a program that would disable the cell's security systems—just for a few seconds. Long enough to get Elira out.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Creating a window. When I open the door, I need you to follow me. Don't ask questions. Just move."

Elira stared at him. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"Okay," she said. "But if this goes wrong, I'm not going back to that cell. I'd rather die."

"That won't be necessary."

Ronan finished his program and activated it. The cell door slid open with a soft hiss.

"Let's go," he said.

---

They moved through the brig, silent and fast. Ronan led Elira through the corridors, his tablet guiding them toward the maintenance shaft she'd mentioned.

The shaft was hidden behind a panel in the wall. Ronan pried it open, revealing a dark tunnel.

"This leads to the engine room," Elira said.

"And from there?"

"We can access the central core. But it's risky. There are sensors everywhere."

"Then we avoid the sensors."

Ronan helped Elira into the shaft and followed close behind. The tunnel was narrow and dark, the air thick with the smell of oil and machinery.

They crawled for what felt like hours, their progress slow and painful. Ronan's side was throbbing, the wound pulling at his skin. But he pushed through it.

Finally, they reached the end of the shaft. A grate opened onto the engine room.

Ronan peered through the grate. The engine room was massive, filled with towering machinery and humming generators. A team of engineers worked at a central console, their eyes fixed on monitors.

"That's the core," Elira whispered, pointing to a cylindrical structure in the center of the room. "The neural targeting algorithm is stored there. If we can access it, we can disable the drones."

"How do we get past the engineers?"

Elira was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I can create a distraction. A small power surge. It'll knock out their systems for a few seconds."

"Will they know it's you?"

"They'll think it's a malfunction. Storm's systems aren't perfect."

Ronan nodded. "Do it."

Elira pulled a small device from her pocket—a transmitter she'd kept hidden from Storm's guards. She typed a few commands, and the lights in the engine room flickered.

The engineers looked up, confused. Their monitors went dark.

"Now!" Ronan said.

He pushed open the grate and dropped into the room. Elira followed, her movements quick and silent.

They ran to the central core. Ronan pulled out his tablet and connected it to the core's interface. The screen lit up with cascading code.

"Work faster," Elira said. "They'll reboot the systems any second."

Ronan's fingers flew across the tablet. He was looking for the kill switch—the override that would disable the drones. But the code was complex, layered with encryption.

"I can't find it," he said.

"Let me." Elira pushed him aside and took control. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, finding patterns that Ronan couldn't see.

"Here," she said. "The kill switch is buried under three layers of encryption. I can unlock it, but I need time."

"How much time?"

"Five minutes. Maybe ten."

"We don't have ten minutes."

"I'll do it in five."

Elira worked faster, her concentration absolute. Ronan stood guard, his eyes scanning the room.

The lights flickered again. The engineers were rebooting their systems.

"Elira, we're running out of time."

"Almost there," she said. "Just a few more seconds."

The lights came back on. The engineers looked up and saw them.

"Intruders!" one shouted. "Secure the core!"

"Elira!" Ronan yelled.

"Done!" she shouted.

She pulled a data stick from the core and shoved it into her pocket. The engineers were running toward them, their weapons drawn.

Ronan grabbed Elira's arm and pulled her toward the maintenance shaft. They climbed up, barely ahead of the guards.

"We need to get out of here!" Ronan shouted.

"To the cargo bay," Elira said. "There's a secondary exit. If we can reach it—"

They didn't finish the sentence. They were running, their footsteps echoing in the narrow tunnel.

---

They emerged in the cargo bay. Ghost and Zip were waiting, the VTOL's engines humming.

"Get in!" Ghost shouted.

Ronan pushed Elira into the ship and climbed in after her. Zip was already at the controls, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Seal the bay doors!" Ronan shouted.

Zip nodded and hit a button. The cargo bay doors began to close, but they were slow—too slow.

The guards burst into the bay, their weapons raised.

"Fire!" one shouted.

Bullets tore through the air. Ghost returned fire, hitting two of the guards. The rest dove for cover.

The bay doors were closing. One more second. Two more.

"Go!" Ronan shouted.

Ghost punched the throttle. The VTOL shot forward, through the gap, into the open sea.

The guards fired after them, but they were too late. The VTOL was airborne, climbing toward the clouds.

Ronan collapsed into his seat, breathing hard. His side was bleeding again, the wound torn open.

"Where to?" Ghost asked.

Ronan looked at Elira. She was clutching the data stick, her face pale.

"We need to find a safe place," he said. "Somewhere we can analyze the data. Build the kill switch."

Ghost nodded. "I know a place. An old military bunker in the mountains. It's off the grid."

"Take us there."

Ghost turned the VTOL east. The ocean stretched out beneath them, endless and empty.

Ronan closed his eyes. His body was screaming, but his mind was racing.

They had the data. They had Elira. They had a chance.

But Storm would be furious. He'd be hunting them. And he still had Lyra.

"I'm coming," Ronan whispered. "I'm coming, Lyra. Just hold on."