The transport’s engines screamed a jagged wail as Killy wrestled the controls, the cockpit rattling around him and Junior like a tin can in a storm. The ship, a battered Ascendancy relic, had sshed a weeks-long trek to hours, but it was dying. Arms shrieked from the console, red lights fshing in a chaotic dance, shredding Killy’s nerves. The holographic AI interface flickered, its cold feminine voice cutting through the chaos with infuriating calm. “Warning: Primary thruster alignment failing. Power at 47%. Structural integrity compromised. Estimated safe range: 20 miles from target. Recommend immediate nding to avoid catastrophic failure.”

  “Crash?” Junior’s voice cracked, his knuckles white around his dad’s Milwaukee Fastback knife, eyes bulging in the back cockpit. “We’re gonna crash, Killy?”

  “Not on my watch,” Killy growled, hands steady despite the sweat stinging his eyes. The ship groaned, each shudder a warning of its end. For years and years, he’d survived through blizzards and raids; he’d be damned if this junk heap killed him before DC. “Hold tight, kid. We’re close.” He eased the throttle, coaxing stability from sluggish controls. Pre-Cutoff, he’d fixed trucks, not flown ships, but survival had taught him to adapt—build traps, lead a vilge, outsmart drones. This was just another fight.

  Outside, northern Virginia blurred below, endless forests and hills glowing in the pale fall light. Killy’s gaze caught on something unexpected: vilges—dozens of them, from shacks huddled in clearings to sprawling settlements with scrap-metal walls and fields of corn and wheat swaying in the chilly breeze. Smoke curled from chimneys, watchtowers loomed with armed sentries, and hidden hamlets flickered with firelight under dense canopies. Humanity wasn’t just surviving—it was rebuilding, thriving in the Ascendancy’s shadow. Killy had thought Pine Hollow was a lone spark, his creation a st stand. Now, seeing kids chasing each other in a clearing, their ughter faint on the wind, he felt a flicker of pride. The Cutoff had scattered humanity, but it hadn’t broken it.

  That pride hardened into resolve. These vilges—his people’s kin—wouldn’t survive if the Ascendancy kept harvesting kids for their Lattice. Nora, Reese, and Cy, wired to a quantum nightmare, were his to save. He’d built Pine Hollow to protect them, and though it was ash, his duty wasn’t. Another arm bred. “Warning: Secondary power rey failure imminent. Landing required within 20 miles.”

  “Twenty miles,” Killy muttered, eyeing the navigation dispy. DC loomed ahead. “Let’s find ground before this thing blows.” The city emerged, and Killy’s breath caught. The DC of his childhood—Washington Monument, Capitol dome—was gone, repced by a glowing metropolis of force-field towers pulsing blue and violet. Buildings materialized, light weaving spires in minutes, a 3D-printed hell. Hovering vehicles glided, white-armored figures and cnkers patrolled—this was the Ascendancy’s future, built on the old world’s bones.

  “Look at that,” Junior whispered, face pressed to the window, breath fogging the gss. “How do we fight that, Killy?”

  “One step,” Killy said, voice iron as he guided the descent. “We nd, then we get our kids.” The AI chimed, “Final warning: Landing site, Fairfax, Virginia, 20 miles west. Coordinates locked.”

  “Fairfax,” Killy grunted, aiming for a dense wood. The ship bucked, engines coughing as branches cwed the hull, scraping like screams. The nding was brutal, skidding across frost-crusted earth, smming into an oak with a crunch. The engines died, the console went dark, and silence fell, broken only by the hull’s creak and rustling leaves.

  “We’re down,” Killy said, exhaling, gncing at Junior’s pale face. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Junior nodded, gripping his knife. “Ship’s done, though, right?”

  “Yep. On foot now.” They salvaged the wreckage—arrows, canteen, venison tin, a tattered bnket, a first-aid kit with bandages and antiseptic. Killy packed the frayed backpack, the Trident humming in his pocket, its nanobots a faint buzz in his veins. They trekked to a clearing a quarter-mile away, pines shielding a needle-soft floor. Killy built a low fire with flint and steel, the fmes flickering in the frosty dusk, casting shadows on the surrounding woods.

  They ate venison, the meat tough but sustaining. Junior stared into the fire, worry etching his face. “That city… force fields, growing buildings. We’ve got a bow, a knife, this Trident. How do we get in?”

  Killy poked the embers, the cold stinging his knuckles. “It scares me too, kid. I thought the world was dead, just us scraping by. That city—they’ve been building while we hid. Their tech’s a nightmare. But they don’t expect us—two ants with a sting. That’s our shot.” Junior nodded, doubt lingering. “What if we’re too te? What if we die?”

  “Then we make them bleed,” Killy said, eyes hard. “But Nora, Reese, Cy—they’re counting on us. We don’t try, they’re gone. I won’t live with that.” Junior’s jaw set. “No choice.”

  Junior slept on pine needles, bnket tight, knife in hand. Killy kept watch, bow ready, Trident humming. Exhaustion pulled him under, the nanobots’ buzz trailing into sleep.

  ***

  In a gray void, Killy stood, the air viscous with static that prickled his skin like a thousand unseen needles. The ground pulsed faintly, a heartbeat beneath his boots, as if the nothingness were alive. A figure loomed before him—humanoid, its form a cascade of liquid shadow, edges writhing like smoke caught in a storm. Its eyes were twin voids, abyssal pits that tugged at his soul, whispering promises of oblivion. A low hum vibrated through Killy’s bones, carrying a voice that felt older than stars. “I see you, Killian Barnes. I hadn’t noticed you before. But it seems you’re full of surprises. And I adore surprises.”

  Killy’s hand cwed at his side for the Trident, fingers grasping only air. His pulse quickened, the void’s static crawling into his lungs. “Who are you? The Shill?”

  The figure’s ugh shattered the air, a cacophony of splintering gss and distant screams. “I despise that name. I am The Engineer, bound between your world and the beyond since before your Earth was a spark in the cosmic forge. I sculpt the ascent of monkeys beyond their crude origins.” It paused, its form rippling, as if expecting awe. Killy’s silence hung heavy, defiance in his stillness. A sardonic edge crept into the voice. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “Engineer?” Killy scoffed, his voice rough, cutting through the hum. “Sounds like a kid pying with toy trains. You don’t look like you’re building bridges. So you’re the one feeding the Ascendancy’s pricks all this tech?” His eyes narrowed, searching the figure’s shifting form for a weakness, a crack in its smug facade.

  The Engineer’s eyes fred, twin supernovas in the dark. “Think grander, Killian. I taught Homo habilis to sharpen stone, to carve their will into the world. You monkeys are chaos incarnate—wild, unpredictable. Your chaos fascinates me. I trade: knowledge for favors, power for loyalty. Fair, no?” Its voice was honey over razors, each word a lure.

  “Fair?” Killy’s fists clenched, knuckles whitening, his voice a snarl. “You steal kids—Nora, Reese, Cy. You’re no trader. You’re a parasite, a tick gorging on hope.” He stepped forward, boots grinding against the pulsing void. “I’m not afraid of ticks. I just hate them.” The Engineer’s smile was a ssh of darkness, sharp enough to cut.

  “Oh, Killian,” it purred, its form coiling closer, shadows licking at his skin. “Another surprise. Samuel Colt wept and begged at our first meeting, a trembling child. Yet here you stand, bewildered, defiant, like a spark in a hurricane. I’ll let you py this game, see how far your stubborn heart carries you. I crave games—they soothe my endless boredom.” It leaned closer, its voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll win you over yet. To sweeten the pot, I’ll share a secret about that Trident you stole. Its limits are only what you dare to dream. You’ve seen the bde, but it’s more—imagine a psma whip, shing across chasms, or levitation, energy bending to lift you skyward. The nanobots sing their possibilities, if you’d only listen.”

  Killy’s gre burned, his hatred a shield against the offer’s allure. He memorized the words, tucking them into the corners of his mind like a thief hiding a bde. “The kids—where are they?” His voice was steel, unyielding.

  The Engineer’s form shimmered, its voice a fading echo. “Beneath the tallest spire, where the Lattice hums like a caged god. You’ll feel it in your bones. Entertain me, monkey.”

  The void colpsed, a rush of vertigo swallowing Killy whole. He woke, gasping, sweat-soaked, the fire’s embers casting fleeting shadows across the campsite. Junior slept nearby, undisturbed, his soft snores a tether to reality. The Trident rested against Killy’s side, its hum now a living pulse, stronger, as if the dream—real or not—had awakened something within it. The spire was a target, a beacon in the dark. The whip and levitation were tools, weapons to wield, parasite or not. Killy’s jaw tightened. He’d py the Engineer’s game, but on his terms. The nanobots’ faint whisper lingered in his mind, a siren call to dream bigger, to fight harder.

  ***

  Dawn broke, gray light piercing frost-ced pines, the air sharp with pine and earth. Killy roused Junior, who woke rubbing his eyes and letting out a yawn. “Bad dream?” Killy asked.

  “Yeah—cnkers,” Junior muttered. “You?”

  “Something like that.” They packed, heading for the Potomac to guide them to DC, 20 miles away. Killy led, bow ready, Trident buzzing. Hours passed, the sun warming the frost, the terrain fttening near the river valley. Killy’s senses sharpened—the nanobots’ hum felt like eyes on him.

  He signaled a stop, pulling Junior behind a stand of bushes bushes. “Down,” he whispered, nocking an arrow. Through the underbrush, spider-like sentinels—dog-sized, bck, blue sensors sweeping—scuttled, Ascendancy drones patrolling the perimeter. Killy’s blood chilled. They were in the net, and he had to get them through—or die trying.