Ting Cheng stood there, tube under his arm, chest rising and falling against the fog, and the echo of her words still hanging in the air.
The gas was thinning, but it still burned Ting Cheng's eyes as he pushed forward.
The containment tube's weight was solid against his ribs, cold metal leeching through the fabric of his shirt.
Boots pounded toward him, and two security men broke through the haze.
One reached for the tube, but Ting Cheng angled his body away.
"Seal this route and lock sublevel one," he ordered. His voice was calm, but the clipped edge told them no arguments.
"We're not losing this again."
Control Booth
Zi Zhen's gaze snapped to the feed showing Ting Cheng emerging from the tunnel.
The glare on the lens caught the tube, etching its blackened metal in stark relief.
"You've got it?" Zi Zhen asked over comms.
"Affirmative."
"Then straight to containment vault C. Don't stop for anyone, not even me."
