Will followed Ned out of the Mist Tent and onto a narrow catwalk that groaned under the weight of their boots. The second he stepped over the threshold, the silence of the recovery ward was incinerated.
The cavern was massive—a jagged, hollowed-out ribcage of the earth that had been retrofitted with scavenged corporate infrastructure. It was beautiful in a way that made Will's teeth ache. Hundreds of jury-rigged UV halogen strips were strung between the ceiling pipes like glowing blue and pink webbing, casting a vibrating, neon-grunge light over everything.
"Scale of one to ten, how paranoid are you right now?" Ned asked, his voice carrying over the constant, low-frequency hum of a thousand cooling fans.
"Twelve," Will rasped, his hand gripping the railing. "Why hasn't P.A.C.I.F.I.C. just dropped a bunker-buster on this coordinate? They have the satellite arrays. They have the seismic sensors. We're sitting in their basement."
