Silas stared at Ren, his face a mixture of disbelief and desperation. "Lie to it? It's a walking tank with a computer for a brain. What are you going to do, tell it a bedtime story?"
"Something like that," Ren replied, his mind already working, sifting through the technical specifications he'd half-remembered from the Gamma manuals. The exhaustion was still a heavy cloak on his shoulders, but his thoughts were becoming sharp, clear, and cold. "That machine is a system. It's bound by protocols. Right now, its visual sensors are gone, so it's defaulted to a patrol pattern. But sanitation isn't its only job. It also has protocols for maintenance and obstacle removal."
He looked from the hulking, patrolling drone to the exit on the far side of the chamber. "We can't fight it. We can't hide from it forever. So we have to move it. We need to trick it into switching from 'patrol' to 'obstacle removal'."
Valeria, leaning against the spire to conserve her strength, watched him, her expression intense. "How?"
"Its non-visual sensors are crude," Ren explained, the plan taking shape. "They're designed to stop it from bumping into walls or falling into holes. It detects mass, sound, and strong energy signatures. We can't create mass, but we can create sound and energy. We'll build a lure—a false obstacle—and plant it on the far side of the room, as far from the exit as possible. We'll make the Janitor think a piece of vital machinery has fallen and is blocking a path. It will be compelled by its programming to clear it."
A flicker of understanding crossed Silas's sharp features. "You want to herd it."
"Exactly," Ren confirmed. He then turned to the scavenger. "I need a high-capacity power cell, fully charged. And about two meters of insulated wiring."
Silas blinked, then a slow, impressed grin spread across his face. He unslung his scavenged pack. "You know, for a freak, you've got a nasty streak. I like it." He rummaged inside, producing a compact but heavy-looking power cell and a coil of wire. "Don't ask where I got them."
Ren didn't. He took the components and, with the practiced hands of a technician, began to rig a crude device, wiring the power cell to a heavy chunk of twisted metal from the wreckage. He was creating a simple, powerful electromagnet, a beacon that would scream "high-energy obstruction" to the Janitor's simple sensors.
"Okay," Ren said, finishing his work. "Here's the plan. Silas, I need a diversion. Sound. On the east side of the chamber. Valeria and I will use the noise to move west and plant this lure. Once it's planted and we're back here, I'll activate it. The Janitor should go for the bait. That's when we make a run for the exit."
It was a delicate, multi-stage operation that required perfect timing.
Silas gave a grim nod and slipped away into the shadows. A moment later, a loud, rhythmic clang… clang… clang… began to echo from the far eastern corner as he started banging a pipe against a metal girder. The Janitor's patrol pattern immediately shifted, its heavy footsteps moving to investigate the sound.
"Our turn," Ren whispered to Valeria.
They moved, shadows flitting through a graveyard of machines. Valeria, though drained, moved with a soldier's grace, her sidearm sweeping ahead, covering him. They reached the far western wall, and Ren carefully placed the makeshift lure behind a pile of debris, leaving two bare wires exposed. They retreated back to the spire just as the Janitor finished its investigation of Silas's diversion and began to return to its central patrol.
They were all in position.
Ren took a deep breath and touched the two bare wires together.
A low hum emanated from the lure, and the air around it shimmered with magnetic flux. The effect was immediate. The Janitor stopped dead in its tracks. Its head swiveled.
Obstruction detected, its synthesized voice announced. High-energy signature. Non-critical pathway. Initiating obstacle removal protocol.
Its shoulder-mounted plasma cutter activated with a bright, searing hiss. The blind machine turned its back to them and the exit, and began its slow, deliberate march towards the lure.
"Now," Ren breathed.
They ran. Not with the wild panic of before, but with a tense, controlled urgency. They slipped past the preoccupied machine, its focus entirely on the phantom problem they had created for it. As they reached the exit, Ren glanced back. The Janitor had reached the lure and was methodically, relentlessly, slicing the chunk of scrap metal into glowing, molten pieces.
They stepped out of the chamber and into a quiet, blessedly intact corridor. They were safe. They were through.
Valeria leaned against the wall, finally letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding for an hour. Silas just shook his head, a look of genuine admiration in his eyes.
She finally looked at Ren, her expression stripped of its usual hostility, replaced by something complex—a mixture of exhaustion, relief, and grudging respect.
"Okay," she said, her voice quiet but clear. "You were right. Your way worked." She pushed herself off the wall, her gaze unwavering. "So, what now, strategist?"