The laboratory was never truly silent.
Even at night, machines breathed.
Lights hummed softly.
Glass chambers pulsed with slow blue rhythms, like sleeping hearts.
But tonight—
there were no voices.
No scientists arguing.
No guards laughing.
No footsteps echoing between steel walls.
Kzarian stood alone at the lab entrance, his back pressed against the cold metal door.
He listened.
Nothing.
He checked the time.
Shift change had ended.
Night security rotation had moved to the outer sectors.
This was his only chance.
He swallowed and stepped inside.
THE GLASS CAGE
The alien child was still there.
Suspended inside a transparent chamber, floating in pale liquid.
Thin wires rested against the small body, monitoring things no one could name.
The child was not crying.
He never cried anymore.
His eyes were closed.
The strange markings around them glowed faintly—slow, steady, like a heartbeat.
Kzarian walked closer.
Every step felt heavy.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Not to the child.
To himself.
He placed his hand on the glass.
The surface was warm.
Too warm.
The machines suddenly flickered.
Warning symbols flashed and vanished, as if the system could not decide whether something was wrong.
Kzarian took out a small device from his coat—a manual override key.
Illegal.
Unregistered.
Stolen months ago, back when he still believed he would never need it.
He inserted it into the control panel.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
CLICK.
The liquid drained instantly.
The glass slid open with a soft hiss.
Kzarian reached in and lifted the child into his arms.
The body was lighter than he expected.
Too light.
The moment skin touched skin, the markings flared brighter.
The lights above flickered.
Kzarian froze.
"Please," he whispered.
"Please don't wake them."
The child stirred.
But did not scream.
Instead, his tiny hand closed weakly around Kzarian's finger.
That broke something inside him.
THE ALARM
Kzarian turned to leave.
And then—
WEEEEEEEE—
Red lights exploded across the room.
ALARM.
Every screen lit up at once.
CONTAINMENT BREACH
ASSET REMOVED
Kzarian ran.
His boots slammed against the metal floor as sirens screamed louder.
Security shutters began to descend in the distance.
Too fast.
Too many.
"Think," he hissed under his breath.
"Think, Kzarian—"
He slowed suddenly.
Turned sharply into a side corridor.
Then—
he stumbled.
Hard.
He crashed into the wall and fell to one knee, clutching his side.
The baby was hidden under his coat now.
He slapped his hand against his ribs and let out a sharp cry.
Right on time.
Footsteps thundered closer.
THE LIE
Soldiers rounded the corner.
Weapons raised.
"DOWN!" one shouted.
Kzarian fell back, groaning.
"There—there was a man," he gasped.
"He attacked me—took the baby—ran that way!"
He pointed shakily down the opposite corridor.
His breathing was uneven.
His face pale.
Blood seeped between his fingers from a small cut he'd made earlier.
The soldiers hesitated.
"Did you see his face?" one demanded.
Kzarian shook his head.
"No—too fast—he hit me—"
He coughed violently.
Another soldier cursed.
"Damn it. Go! That way!"
Boots thundered past him.
One by one.
Then all of them were gone.
The alarm continued screaming.
But the corridor around Kzarian was empty again.
He waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Then he stood.
And ran.
THE ESCAPE
Cold air slammed into his face as he burst out of the lab complex.
Neptune City at night glowed like a living circuit—
floating roads, humming towers, sky-rails cutting light through darkness.
Kzarian did not stop.
He took alleys.
Maintenance tunnels.
Places no patrol ever bothered with.
His lungs burned.
The baby shifted under his coat.
Still silent.
Still watching.
Finally, he reached the outer industrial district.
Old buildings.
Old machines.
Places the future had forgotten.
He slowed.
Turned down one last narrow street.
Stopped at a steel workshop.
Lights were on inside.
Someone was awake.
Kzarian knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Hard.
THE DOOR
The door opened.
A tall man stood there—around forty.
Broad shoulders.
Hands scarred by years of metalwork.
Steve.
His eyes widened when he saw Kzarian.
"Kzarian?" he said.
"What the hell—?"
Kzarian pushed past him and closed the door.
"Lock it," he said urgently.
Steve did.
Only then did Kzarian open his coat.
And reveal the child.
Steve's breath caught.
"What… is that?"
"A baby," Kzarian said hoarsely.
"An alien," Steve whispered.
"No," Kzarian said.
"A weapon."
His voice cracked.
"And if I don't leave him here…
he will become something worse."
Steve stared at the child.
At the glowing markings.
At the eyes that seemed far too aware.
"This is suicide," Steve muttered.
"I know," Kzarian said.
He held the baby out.
"Please."
Steve hesitated.
"I can't protect this," he said.
"I'm just a steel worker."
Kzarian nodded.
"That's why you must."
Steve looked at him sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"They won't look for him here," Kzarian said.
"They look for threats.
For power."
His eyes burned with desperation.
"They will never imagine the end of gods sleeping above broken machines."
The baby made a small sound.
Not a cry.
Something softer.
Steve closed his eyes.
Then—
he took the child.
THE PROMISE
Kzarian stepped back.
Relief and terror crashed into him at once.
"Hide him," Kzarian said.
"Anywhere.
Change nothing.
Raise him like… like life."
Steve swallowed.
"And you?"
Kzarian smiled sadly.
"I disappear."
He turned toward the door.
Then paused.
"If anyone asks," he said quietly,
"you never saw me."
Steve nodded.
Kzarian opened the door.
The night swallowed him whole.
ENDING
Inside the workshop, the baby blinked.
The glowing markings dimmed.
For the first time since his birth—
the machines could no longer find him.
TO BE CONTINUED