I crawled through the small air vent, with only Vace's well-shaped rear in front of me leading the way.

I could walk, if I wanted to, but I'd have to bend over nearly completely; crawling was just easier. Vace on the other hand, was too tall—he had to crawl his way through the cramped, stuffy ventilation shaft.

This place was a maze. The silent shuffles of our knees banging against the metal of the vent echoed through the entire system of ventilation shafts, which I guessed ran through the entire building—maybe even the entire Globe. There were countless sideways stretching out around us, but Vace seemed to know exactly where he was going.

From time to time he stopped at a crossroad—making me bump into him—to continue several seconds later, turning into a bypass.

With every turn my sense of direction failed me even more; an ability I had heavily relied on back home—I felt completely and utterly lost.

The warm air lazily moving through the vents dampened my clothes, making my whole body feel sticky with a thin layer of sweat. I didn't mind. What I did mind, though, was the uncomfortable bend of my feet against the metal floor. The leather of my boots didn't give much, and after a while I started to feel my ankles, as they numbed more with every movement. There was no way in hell I was going to tell Vace this, of course.

Vace took another turn, and suddenly the dim tunnel got lighter. A dead end. An almost hidden panel was embedded in the wall, it consisting of merely a screen and a handful of buttons.

He stopped again, sitting down on the floor. He inserted a small object into the panel, and the thing suddenly burst to life.

"Woods," he said to the green-lit buttons of the panel, "open hatch C8-7."

What was he trying to do?

A croak came out of the panel, faltering a bit before the hacker's voice clearly resonated through the shaft.

"...sure, boss. Coming up."

My eyes widened. How was that possible? How could his voice come out such a little thing, while he was that far away?

I nudged Vace softly. "How are you doing that?" I whispered, eyeing the device wearily.

It croaked again, and I slightly moved back in surprise.

"...hi Tenna. It's radio. You can communicate with it, over a distance." Mot's voice sounded through the ventilation shaft.

Woah. What technology could bring you. It amazed me every time.

"Woods, are you done?" Vace inquired again, this time with a restless tap of his finger on his knee.

"...oh. Yeah, boss. It should open now."

"Thank you," Vace muttered, as the twisted hatch soundlessly opened. He held a blue button on the screen. "Delete conversation."

With that said, Vace pulled the small stick out of the panel, putting it in his pocket. A few bleeps came out of the panel, and Mot's voice sounded a last time.

"...roger that. Good luck."

A gust of wind blew in my face, smelling like people and the faint trace of murky water.

The sounds which were accompanied by the Globes returned again: the rattles of machinery, the sounds of life and the ever constant hum of a device to me unknown.

Vace turned around on the spot, facing me.

"Are you ready?" he asked, "This part isn't going to be easy."

Without awaiting my answer he twisted around and lowered himself out of the hatch, holding onto the edge before letting himself soundlessly drop onto the level below.

I peeked my head over the edge, twisted around and let myself fall on the metal grid floor in one fluid motion.

I looked around the empty gangway, identical to the one Vace and I had found ourselves in earlier. Hell, if Vace had dropped us in the exact same corridor, I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

"So..." I said, confused why Vace had chosen to stop here. "Why here?"

"Patience," he said, holding up a hand. "Change of shifts. In three, two, one..."

As on a silent queue all the doors in the hallway opened, and out of them streamed dozens of regg, all in their seemingly identical coveralls. The low hum of shushed chatter filled my ears as Vace pulled me aside, following the stream of regg.

"Hunch. Stay close," he commanded, shuffling into step with the workers. They didn't even look up. I guessed they knew him—or simply didn't care.

Lowering my head I fell into step with a woman, all skin and bones in a ragged murky green coverall, wearing rubber gloves. There was a small symbol in the shape of a droplet stitched on the smooth material of her uniform.

Glancing around I saw three colours; brown, with a kind of multi-pointed star on their chest; faded blue, with a sort square raster, and finally the green coveralls with their droplet.

Three sectors. I concluded, taking in as much information as I could.

There were children not older than eight walking alone through the hallway, often with even a smaller child in their wake. The kids moved around in small groups, consisting out of a mash of the three different colours. Some people had small conversation, which was always in a hushed tone. The kids didn't even run around and giggle, like the children back at camp did.

The coveralls differed in more ways than their colour—the fabric was different as well.

While the green coveralls were tight and looked kind of slippery—yet clean, the brown ones were smeared with all kinds of substances and were much more sturdy, with multiple pockets attached to the suit. The blue ones were simplest by far: thin, long-sleeved and with only two pockets, in which often a pair of rubber gloves were stuffed.

The sleeves were often too short or too long, but they all had one thing in common—a hole in the left sleeve, where an arm scan could easily be reached. Everywhere I looked were black marks on bare arms: even the smallest children had them.

I peeked at the exposed arm of the woman shuffling next to me, trying to catch a glimpse of the data it supplied. She moved before I could get a proper look, but what I read said enough.

Status: fertile (2)
INSPECTION REQUIRED

This woman was pregnant. She was carrying her second child.

Whilst this would've been a reason to celebrate back home, this was a disaster here. I didn't know what she would do, this unknown woman in a place I didn't know, but I silently wished her luck. If that was any consolation.

Unconsciously I glanced to her stomach, where there was no sign of other life—not yet, at least. There was weariness etched on the fine lines of her face, grief cutting through it like a blunt knife. I pitied her.

Before I could even say something I lost her in the crowd, as they all took another turn: up the stairs (the blue suits), down the stairs (the green suits) or over one of the countless narrow bridges crossing over to other buildings (brown suits).

I bit my lip, not knowing which way to go. I'd lost Vace in the commotion. I slowed my pace, and as a rock in a stream the regg flowed around me like an endless river of bodies. I cursed softly, letting the many regg pass, who often shouldered me on their way out.

I lifted my head slightly, looking over the heads of the fellow brown-haired people around me, searching for a black haired one. Panic gripped me when I couldn't find one. I looked left and right, even risking standing on my toes—even if it was only for a second. Nothing.

I considered turning around, circling back to where Vace and I had exited the ventilation system, but I was pulled away before I could even turn my head.

"Are you stupid, little girl?" his gravelly voice hissed in my ear, his breath warm against my neck. I pulled back from Vace's grip around my upper arm, backing up against the wall of the alcove he had pulled me in.

He leaned against the wall as well, which didn't really make a difference. It was so cramped, our knees almost touched. I heard Vace's breath loudly in the small space, and a disapproving grunt when he started speaking.

"I said 'stay close', remember?" he hissed again, raking a hand through his hair, "Why did you stand there gaping at that woman? One glance from the wrong person and you're dead. Listen to me next time."

Silence filled the small alcove. The shuffling of the nearby regg had almost completely died out, the only sounds remaining the buzzing of the machines and our combined breaths.

Vace gave me another stare before pushing himself off the wall and turning around with a sigh. "I already regret taking you here. Come on. We don't have all day."

* * *

Two steps onto what seemed to be the biggest mistake of my life I made an even graver mistake.

I looked down.

I focussed on Vace's back as the hard gusts of air which seemed to come out of nowhere threw themselves against my body, making me even more unstable than I already was.

I changed my footing on the narrow bridge which was constructed out of metal beams and driven-through long nails. Every few steps I had to lift my foot and step over the protruding nails and metal pipes—this bridge was hardly broad enough to let one person cross at the same time. I wondered if Vace hadn't just accidentally led me onto bridge made for rats.

A gust of air slammed itself against my back, making me almost fall over.

I gasped loudly, my bravery failing me, and let out a small yelp.

"Vace—" I whispered, my arms spread slightly to hold my balance. "I can't move."

Vace had advanced further on the bridge than I had, walking casually above the abyss like he probably had done a thousand times.

"It's just a bridge," he said looking over his shoulder, standing halfway the narrow overpass. "Focus on me and walk."

"This isn't a bridge, this is a stick thrown over an abyss which wrongly got named a bridge," I blabbered shakily.

I tried to move my foot but I stayed stuck in place. Knots formed in my stomach, and I pressed my mouth shut, trying to force its contents back down.

Vace twisted on his heel with a casual flair around him like he was walking on steady ground. He slowly walked over to me, one arm stretched out.

"Hey," he snapped his fingers in front of my face, "Snap out of it. You can do this, I promise," he said, suddenly soft.

"No, I can't," I whimpered, looking swiftly up to him. "I can't."

"Tenna, look at me," he said, his voice sounding over the noises of the Globe. "Look at me, look in my eyes."

I glanced up, my hands trembling beside me.

"What do you see? Look in my eyes," he said, staring straight in my eyes.

"They're dark," I said, looking from one eye in another. His lashes framed his eyes perfectly like a black veil, casting long shadows on his sharp cheekbones.

"'They're dark,'" he mimicked sarcastically, "Look better."

"They're a dark shade of..." I took a breath, "they're green," I said, surprised. "Your eyes are green. They're a dark shade of green, which seem brown if you don't look closely."

He took a step back. I followed.

"There are dark flecks of brown and golden in them, like little flecks of sunlight—and leaves. They're a mysterious forest framed with the darkness of your lashes. The whites of your eyes don't contain a single flaw, pristine in the shadows of your face."

I stepped closer, to take a better look. "They might suck you in if you don't look out... if you don't stand steady on the ground. I didn't know that when..."

He blinked. I got snapped out of my daze, and only then realised where we were.

I had made it.

Unconsciously I had followed him over the narrow bridge as he kept stepping backward. I hadn't even noticed I had followed him.

He scraped his throat nervously. "Good job."

I stepped back, disorientated, rubbing my eyes. "Yeah. Thank you." I felt my cheeks flush and hid them behind my hands. My breath came heavy, my tongue was dry and my palms were sweaty. But I had made it.

The adrenaline which had flowed through my veins slowly ebbed away, but I was proud of myself. I had never thought I would ever cross one of those bridges.

For some reason, I wanted to try it again.