Chapter 6: The Skybridge Veil

The Harbor’s upper districts were an entirely different world from the undercity Coza had spent his life navigating. Here, suspended pathways wound between towering spires, their surfaces polished to a sterile gleam. The air smelled faintly of ozone and disinfectant, and the hum of distant turbines underscored every moment. Giant drones, their silver shells glinting in the ambient glow, hovered silently, their surveillance optics scanning the walkways below.

Coza moved with purpose, keeping his head down as he followed the crowds. The people here—dressed in sleek, minimalist attire—were a sharp contrast to the patched coats and oil-stained hands of the Verge. They walked quickly, their faces fixed on holographic interfaces that hovered like spectral companions in the air around them. This was the Harbor’s elite—those who lived above the grime, both literally and figuratively.

His borrowed disruptor rested in his coat pocket, its weight a strange reassurance. Coza’s arm throbbed beneath its bandages, but he ignored the pain. He couldn’t afford distraction. He’d left Taka’s hideout with more questions than answers, and the urgency of finding out what he was caught up in gnawed at him. For now, he needed anonymity, and the Skybridge Veil—the massive thoroughfare connecting the Harbor’s spires—was the perfect place to disappear.

As Coza stepped onto one of the primary walkways, he noticed the subtle shift in the air around him. The crowd’s pace slowed, heads turning as a faint whirring sound cut through the background noise. His heart sank. He didn’t need to look to know the sound belonged to a surveillance drone.

The sphere in his coat pulsed faintly, as if in response to his dread. Coza quickened his pace, weaving through the crowd as the drone’s searchlight began to sweep over the walkway. People stepped aside instinctively, their attention returning to their holograms with practiced disinterest. No one here wanted trouble, and they certainly wouldn’t intervene to stop it.

Coza ducked into a side corridor, his pulse racing. The passage led to a maintenance tunnel, its walls lined with conduits and humming wires. He moved quickly, the faint glow of his neural lens lighting the way. Behind him, the sound of metallic footsteps echoed ominously. His pursuers weren’t far.

The tunnel opened into a service bay, its floor littered with discarded components and half-built machinery. Coza’s gaze darted around, searching for an escape route. A ladder caught his eye, its rungs leading up to a ventilation shaft. Without hesitation, he climbed, his muscles protesting with each movement.

As he pulled himself into the shaft, the faint whir of drones grew louder. He crawled forward, his body pressed against the cool metal as he tried to quiet his breathing. The shaft’s narrow walls seemed to close in around him, but he pressed on, the dim light of an opening ahead guiding him.

When he emerged, Coza found himself on a narrow balcony overlooking the Skybridge Veil. The sight was both breathtaking and disorienting. The spires loomed above and below, their sheer scale making him feel insignificant. The glow of holographic billboards painted the night sky in shifting hues, their messages advertising enhancements, luxuries, and lies.

For a moment, Coza allowed himself to pause. The world felt vast, unknowable. He clutched the sphere tightly, its warmth grounding him. Whatever its purpose, it had drawn him into a story larger than himself, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.

A voice pulled him back to reality. “You’ve got quite a talent for trouble, haven’t you?”

Coza turned sharply, his hand moving instinctively toward the disruptor. Standing a few paces away was a woman, her posture casual yet deliberate. She wore a dark coat that blended seamlessly with the shadows, and her face was partially obscured by a hood. Despite her unassuming appearance, there was a sharpness to her gaze that made Coza wary.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice low.

“Someone who doesn’t want to see you get yourself killed,” she replied. Her tone was calm, almost amused. “You’ve got half the Harbor looking for you, and yet here you are, standing out in the open like a beacon.”

Coza hesitated, unsure whether to trust her. “What do you want?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in that little trinket you’re carrying,” she said, nodding toward his coat. “But I’m not like the others. I’m not here to take it from you.”

“Why should I believe that?” Coza asked.

“Because if I wanted to take it, you wouldn’t have seen me coming,” she replied smoothly. “Now, are you going to let me help, or are you going to keep stumbling through this on your own?”

Coza studied her, his mind racing. She didn’t seem like the armed strangers or the mechanical creatures he’d encountered before. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. Help me.”

The woman smiled faintly. “Smart choice. Call me Edna.”

Edna led Coza through a series of hidden pathways, each one more obscure than the last. They descended into the lower levels of the spire, where the polished walls gave way to exposed machinery and dimly lit service corridors. The air grew heavier, the hum of turbines replaced by the distant roar of water.

“Where are we going?” Coza asked, his voice echoing faintly.

“To a place where your pursuers won’t follow,” Edna replied cryptically. “The Harbor has secrets, Coza. And if you want to survive, you’ll need to learn them.”

They emerged into a cavernous chamber, its walls lined with massive pipes that gushed water into a central reservoir. The space felt ancient, a relic of a time before the Harbor had grown into the sprawling metropolis it was now. In the center of the chamber stood a rusted gate, its surface etched with symbols that Coza didn’t recognize.

“This is the Forgotten Gateway,” Edna said, her voice almost reverent. “One of the Harbor’s oldest structures. Most people don’t even know it exists.”

“What’s behind it?” Coza asked.

Edna turned to him, her expression serious. “Answers. But they’ll cost you more than you’re ready to pay.”

Coza frowned. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not really,” Edna admitted. “But that’s the thing about choices—they’re rarely as simple as they seem.”

She stepped toward the gate, her hand brushing against its surface. The symbols began to glow faintly, their light reflecting in the water below. Coza watched, a sense of unease settling over him. Whatever lay beyond that gate, it felt significant in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

As the gate began to creak open, Edna glanced back at him. “Are you ready to see what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

Coza didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The gate’s light washed over him, pulling him into its depths.

And the Harbor, as vast as it was, suddenly felt very small.