The door slid shut behind Barnaby, its hiss fading into the low hum of the medical wing. The room felt suddenly smaller. Youri remained on the floor for a long moment, his hands pressed against the cold surface, breathing uneven, his body still catching up to the weight of reality.
Free.
The word echoed in his mind, hollow and unfamiliar.
He pushed himself up slowly, every muscle protesting, and sank back onto the edge of the bed. His gaze lingered on the door, half-expecting it to open again, half-hoping it wouldn't. Barnaby's words replayed over and over, each one digging deeper than the last.
Eight hours.
Youri clenched his hands. He had been given a choice—something he hadn't had in years. Yet the idea of freedom felt heavier than captivity ever had.
The door hissed open once more. Zayn stepped inside, followed closely by Jean. Both paused when they saw Youri sitting upright.
"You're awake," Zayn said quietly.
Youri didn't respond at first. He lifted his eyes to meet theirs, searching for something—recognition, hostility, pity—but found none. Just caution.
"Barnaby was here," Jean said, stating the obvious.
Youri nodded once.
Zayn exhaled through his nose. "Then things are moving faster than expected."
Jean crossed his arms. "Malden won't be happy if you leave the medical wing without clearance."
Youri let out a weak, humorless breath. "He won't stop me."
The two exchanged a glance. Zayn hesitated, then reached into his coat and placed a small object on the bed beside Youri. A data band. Old, worn, and unmarked.
"Access clearance," Zayn said. "Limited. Enough to get you through the lower corridors and service lifts."
Jean looked away. "After that, you're on your own."
Youri stared at the band. "Why?"
Zayn shrugged slightly. "Because we've seen what they did to you. And because if anyone deserves to walk out of this place, it's you."
Silence settled between them. Finally, Youri reached out and took the band, fastening it around his wrist. The soft click sounded louder than it should have.
"Thank you," he said, his voice rough but sincere.
Jean nodded once. "Eight hours," he reminded him. "Don't waste them."
They left without another word.
Youri stood alone again. He looked around the room—the sterile walls, the humming machines, the faint scent of antiseptic. For years, this had been his entire world. Now it felt like a shed skin.
He moved slowly through the corridors, keeping to the service paths he'd memorized long ago through the vents. Every turn brought back fragments of memory: operating rooms, holding cells, the quiet echo of footsteps in the night. He passed Leonora's old room and stopped.
The door was sealed. Dark.
Youri rested his forehead against it briefly. "You made it," he whispered. "That's enough."
He didn't linger.
The hangar was alive with activity when he arrived. Cargo drones hovered, technicians shouted orders, and the distant roar of engines vibrated through the floor. At the far end, a ship sat ready—sleek, scarred, unmistakably Barnaby's.
Youri hesitated at the threshold.
Behind him was Altex, the place that had taken everything. Ahead was uncertainty, danger, and a man who had once sold him into hell.
Youri stepped forward.
The ramp lowered with a mechanical whine. Barnaby stood inside, arms crossed, watching him approach. A crooked smile tugged at his lips.
"You're cutting it close," Barnaby said.
Youri met his gaze, his eyes no longer empty, no longer hollow. "I needed to be sure."
Barnaby raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
"That I wasn't leaving anything behind."
For a moment, Barnaby said nothing. Then he turned and walked deeper into the ship. "Strap in," he muttered. "We've got work to do."
As the ramp sealed shut and the engines roared to life, Youri took a seat near the viewport. Altex drifted into view, cold and distant, shrinking with every second.
For the first time in years, Youri felt something stir beneath the silence inside him.
Not pain. Not fear. Possibility.
Back at Altex, Malden stood alone in his office as the doors slid open and Zayn and Jean stepped inside. He was studying his tablet, the glow reflecting faintly in his glasses. After a moment, he placed it down on the desk and turned toward them.
"So," Malden said calmly, "he left?"
"Yes, sir," Zayn replied. "We gave him the clearance band, just as you requested."
Malden's lips curved into a faint, conflicted smirk. "May that be enough to save us from what we have done to him."
He turned toward the wide glass panel overlooking space. In the distance, Youri's ship drifted farther and farther away, its engines burning like a fading star. Malden watched in silence until it disappeared from view.
Back aboard the ship, Youri sat across from Barnaby, the low hum of the engines filling the cabin. After a long pause, he asked, "So… where are we going now?"
Barnaby took a slow drag from his cigarette before answering. "Las Peas," he said. "They call it the planet of sin."
Youri frowned, confusion crossing his face. "So you're selling me off again?"
Barnaby scoffed and flicked the cigarette away. "I told you already—you're a free man now. I'm going to Las Peas because that's where my business is. What you do once you step off the ship is entirely up to you."
He glanced at Youri. "And I wasn't lying when I said I got you a job. If you decide to stay, look for a place called Lux. Ask for a man named Malkom. Tell him I sent you. He's looking for someone like you."
"Doing dirty work," Youri said flatly.
Barnaby smirked. "It's not called the planet of sin for nothing."
Youri let out a slow breath. "I'm done with that kind of life."
Barnaby shrugged. "Your choice, kid. But understand this—there's no right or wrong in this world. Only interests. The people with interests are the ones who survive. Like it or not, want it or don't, that's how this life works."
With that, Barnaby stood and headed toward the control room, leaving Youri alone with his thoughts.
Youri stared at the dark stretch of space beyond the viewport, Barnaby's words echoing in his mind. He clenched his fists, a quiet bitterness settling in his chest.
How far this world had fallen, he thought. So far that it had begun to consume itself from the inside out.