I didn't bring a cargo rig. No bolt cutters. Just a headlamp, a thermos of bad coffee, and a crowbar for comfort.
You don't rob a place. You interview it. The first three times, you're asking "What can I take?" The fourth time, you ask "What went wrong here?"
Not a ghost. Something weirder.
A reflection.
is for the map. You slow down. You realize the security rotor skips a beat every 1.3 seconds. You find the back stairwell. You start to understand the shape of the cage.
I returned to the last night. It’s a bio-dome that went dark during the Reclamation Wars. A graveyard of extinct orchids and petrified ferns. My first three trips were to loot the old research servers.
I sat in her chair.
I realized I had stolen the decryption keys for this project three months ago. I sold them to a bio-tech firm in the Sprawl. That firm is now patenting Dr. Ionescu’s formula. They’ll probably fail because they don’t have the humidity levels right. They don't know about the moss .