The morning sun hadn't yet broken over the jagged skyline of Delta Wastes when Jace arrived at the rendezvous.
Three figures stood waiting by a nondescript cargo van: a wiry young man with thick glasses, a tall blonde woman hugging a backpack, and a thug with a scar that cut across his forehead like a canyon. Jace recognized the thug instantly—Thumper. Of course.
"You Greaves?" the scarred man growled.
"Depends," Jace said, unfazed. "You Charles' welcoming committee?"
"You talk too much."
Thumper grabbed Jace's shoulder and shoved him toward the back of the van. He didn't resist. Not yet.
Inside, the van had been converted. Benches lined the walls. Gear was stacked haphazardly in crates: scanners, portable generators, and what looked like excavation tools. They weren't going camping—they were going to crack something open.
"Names?" Jace asked as the other two climbed in beside him.
"Brian," said the young man nervously. "I do systems. Code, interfaces, security overrides."
"Elsbeth," said the woman. Her voice was cool, intellectual. "Linguistics. I'm here to figure out what the symbols mean. If there are any."
Before Jace could respond, Thumper slammed the van shut. The darkness was immediate. A hood dropped over his head, and cold metal locked around his wrists.
"Standard hospitality?" Jace muttered.
Thumper didn't reply. But Jace didn't need answers. He knew exactly what this was: intimidation. Isolation. Control. And none of it scared him.
He let the van bounce over uneven terrain as they drove, judging the time by the shifts in his weight. Thirty minutes. Then an hour. Then maybe two. Eventually, the van slowed. Doors creaked. Voices murmured.
Then—
Bang!
A fist smashed into Jace's face.
He twisted with the blow, felt his shoulder slam into Brian, who squealed in panic.
"You think you're clever, Greaves?" Thumper hissed. "Outsmarting me back at the gym?"
"Honestly?" Jace replied, blood in his mouth. "Didn't take much."
Another blow landed. Harder. The taste of iron bloomed across his tongue.
"You're gonna learn respect—"
Jace moved.
Even cuffed, even hooded, he exploded upward with all the strength in his legs. His forehead connected with Thumper's jaw with a sickening crunch. The thug reeled back, dazed, just as Jace spun and launched his foot behind Thumper's knee.
The big man went down.
One more headbutt, and Thumper slumped, unconscious.
Jace yanked his hood off, breathing hard.
Brian and Elsbeth stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Holy—what just happened?" Brian gasped.
"Professional disagreement," Jace muttered. "Hang tight."
He rifled Thumper's pockets and found the keycard. A flick, a beep, and the cuffs fell away. A few seconds later, Brian and Elsbeth were free too.
"Remind me never to annoy you," Elsbeth said, massaging her wrists.
Jace just grunted and checked the crates. Power cells. Cables. Some kind of portable uplink station. It was a small science team's dream kit—if the science involved ancient, buried secrets.
The van door creaked open. A second thug appeared—and froze at the sight of Thumper on the floor.
"What the hell happened?!"
"He tripped," Jace said, deadpan. "Might need a medic."
"You—"
"Wanna end up the same way?" Jace stepped forward, slow and deliberate.
The thug backed off.
Outside, the landscape opened wide—flat desert stretching into a dry wind. Beyond a cluster of tents and camouflaged tarps lay a steep excavation pit, its edges ringed with scaffolding and solar lights.
Brian leaned out beside him. "This is where they found it?"
"Looks like," Jace muttered. "Come on."
They stepped into the sunlight, three unwilling consultants under the gaze of armed guards. Somewhere beyond that pit was the vault. Buried. Locked. Ancient.
And humming with secrets.