Slumdog Hero

The storm's dying breath carried the scent of something else—metal and ozone, the sharp tang of exposed electronics cooking in desert heat. Fii lifted her head from where she'd been resting against the buggy's door frame, senses sharpening even as vertigo threatened to capsize her world.

"Nearly there." Her voice cut through the growl of engines and the swish of tires on newly hardened sands. "Couple kilometers. Maybe less."

Luke's gaze flickered to her. "How you holding up?"

"Been worse."

"Never better?" he prodded. A familiar joke—part reassurance, part distraction.

"Phase sickness took care of that." She made a face.

The convoy crested a low ridge as the last traces of the sandstorm dissipated, revealing the crash site spread across the valley below like a metallic scar against the desert floor.

The transport hadn't just crashed—it had plowed a furrow through the valley floor for nearly half a kilometer before coming to rest against a cluster of weathered stone pillars. Gouged earth marked its path, torn-up landscape mingled with scattered debris from the shattered hull.

Corporate logos still gleamed on the intact sections—Tricon Global Industries, their triangle-in-circle symbol visible even at distance.

But it was the size that made everyone pause. This wasn't some small cargo hauler. The transport stretched nearly a hundred meters from nose to tail, its bulk suggesting military or heavy industrial use. Whatever Tricon had been moving, they'd needed serious capacity to handle it.

"Holy shit," Marcus breathed through the radio. "That's not a transport. That's a mobile base."

The wreckage dominated the depression, its various sections scattered across an area the size of several city blocks. Cargo containers lay partially buried in sand, their corporate markings still visible despite weeks of exposure to the elements. Equipment pods had split open, spilling their contents across the desert floor in a pattern that spoke of violent deceleration.

"Jackpot," Vera murmured, scanning the destruction. "That much salvage could set us up for a long time."

The convoy descended into the valley in single file, engines straining against the loose sand that had accumulated around the wreckage. As they drew closer, details emerged that made the crash site even more impressive—and more ominous.

Blast marks scorched the hull in places where emergency charges had detonated. Emergency escape pods hung from their moorings like broken teeth, most still sealed. Whatever had brought this behemoth down, the crew hadn't had time for proper evacuation procedures.

Fii's gravitational sense picked up something else as they approached—mass distributions that didn't match the visible wreckage. Dense pockets buried beneath the sand, probably cargo containers or equipment pods that had been driven deep by the impact. The whole site pulled at her awareness like a three-dimensional puzzle with pieces scattered across multiple layers.

The buggies came to a halt at the edge of the main debris field. Soren emerged from the lead vehicle, her weathered face taking in the scope of their find with the calculating expression of someone who'd spent a lifetime turning disaster into opportunity.

"Standard salvage protocols," she announced. "Teams of three minimum. Nobody works alone, and everybody checks in every thirty minutes. The sand's still settling from the storm—watch for unstable debris."

Luke was already gearing up, checking his weapons and scanning equipment. "I'll take the forward sections. Military hardware's usually concentrated near the command module."

Serena stretched, hard-light flickering around her fingers as she tested her constructs. "You know this isn't gonna look good on our resume. Superheroes helping scrappers loot a crashed transport."

"It's just resources." Luke slung his gear bag over one shoulder. "Nobody's raiding corpses out here."

"Famous last words." She handed Fii a canteen and energy bar. "Eat. Stay hydrated. Rest when you need it. Don't let the phase sickness sneak up on you."

"Don't tell me you've gone all maternal," Fii said, tearing into the packet with her teeth. The bland chewiness did little to stimulate her dulled appetite, but she made herself take a few bites under Serena's watchful gaze.

"More like professional concern." Serena checked her own gear before following Luke toward the main wreckage. "I'll hit the technical bays. Vera, you want to show me what passes for electronics around here?"

The Collector woman grinned. "Stick with me, city girl. I'll teach you what's worth hauling and what's pretty junk."

They moved off together, leaving Fii to decide her own path. She wandered toward the aft sections where containers lay piled in haphazard stacks, some intact, others torn open to spill their contents across the sand.

Despite her pain, Fii moved with cautious purpose. This was her element—picking through salvage for that one item that could mean the difference between survival and starvation. She'd done it countless times in the slums, where nothing ever went to waste as long as it could be recycled or repurposed.

The aft module had partially embedded itself in the valley floor, its rear section angled down into a crater of its own making. Emergency lighting still flickered weakly in some sections, powered by backup cells that had somehow survived the crash. Fii approached the nearest access hatch, noting how the blast damage around it suggested internal explosions rather than external impact.

The hatch had been blown outward from the inside. Whatever had happened here, someone—or something—had been trying to get out.

She squeezed through the twisted opening, scanner in one hand and a flashlight in the other. The corridors beyond were a maze of overturned equipment and emergency foam that had hardened into amber-colored barriers. Her gravitational sense helped her navigate the unstable debris, feeling for load-bearing structures that could still support her weight.

The first compartment she reached had been a laboratory of some kind. Workstations lay scattered across the floor, their screens dark and surfaces covered in a fine layer of sand that had infiltrated through hull breaches. But some of the equipment remained intact, sealed in protective cases that had weathered the crash.

Fii plugged the scanner into the first data port she found. The device chirped to life, scrolling through directory structures and copying anything that remained readable. Most files showed corruption errors, but enough survived to paint a picture of the research team's final days.

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Expedition logs, specimen catalogs, communication transcripts—all stamped with Tricon's corporate seal and classification codes that meant nothing to her. But the personal files proved more interesting. Dr. Mira Chen, expedition biologist. Dr. Kevin Hartwell, physicist specializing in dimensional mechanics. Dr. Sarah Kim, xenobiologist and cultural liaison.

The names meant nothing, but the personal correspondence attached to their profiles revealed fragments of lives cut short. Chen worried about her daughter's school performance. Hartwell complained about the expedition's extended timeline. Kim documented her growing concerns about the expedition's impact on local populations.

And then Fii found the message that made her blood freeze.

It was buried in Kim's personal files, a draft communication never sent. The timestamp showed it had been composed three days before the expedition's final log entry.

Subject: Urgent Consultation Request - Dr. Edith Weiss

Director Salvatore,

I'm writing to formally request consultation access to Dr. Edith Weiss regarding the anomalous genetic markers we've identified in the Phase 3 specimens. Dr. Weiss's published research on metahuman genetic modification makes her the foremost expert on the type of biological engineering we're encountering.

When I submitted the initial consultation request through standard channels, I was informed that Dr. Weiss is currently "unavailable for external consultation" and is being held under "special research protocols" at the Meridian Corporate Research Complex in Central Metropolis. However, given the nature of our findings—particularly the evidence of artificial genetic modification in the Netherling specimens—her expertise could be crucial to understanding what we're dealing with.

The genetic markers suggest these creatures aren't naturally occurring, but rather the result of deliberate biological engineering similar to the metahuman enhancement protocols Dr. Weiss developed before her detention. If she remains accessible for research consultation, I formally request authorization to include her analysis in our final report.

The team has expressed significant concerns about proceeding without expert genetic consultation, particularly given the implications of what we're discovering about these creatures' origins.

Respectfully,

Dr. Sarah Kim

Xenobiologist, Expedition 47

Fii's hands shook as she read the message again. Edith—alive, held somewhere in the Metropolis.

The scanner beeped, indicating the file transfer was complete. Fii saved the message to her personal storage and kept digging through the data, but her hands shook as she worked. All this time, she and Virgil had been planning to infiltrate some black-site facility out there. But Edith had been within reach all along.

The comm system crackled to life thirty minutes later, static cutting through the desert silence.

"Status check," came Soren's voice. "All teams report."

Fii fumbled for her radio, still processing what she'd discovered. "Aft section. Found some intact data storage. Personal files mostly, but..." She paused, not ready to share Edith's location over an open channel. "Some useful intel."

Luke's voice followed: "Forward command module's a total loss, but the weapons locker survived. Military-grade pulse rifles, ammunition. Could upgrade Haven's defenses significantly."

"Technical bays yielding good salvage," Serena added. "Vera's showing me which components are worth the weight. This girl knows her electronics."

"Copy all. Continue operations. Next check in sixty."

Fii clipped the radio back to her belt and returned to her search, but concentration eluded her. Edith, alive in the Metropolis. Her mind kept turning that fact over. Edith was there. All along, so close, just on the other side of The Wall...

She continued systematically searching, scouring each section of the transport's aft module for anything of value. But the earlier discovery hung over everything, blunting her focus.

How could she possibly pull off a rescue now? Their whole plan had been based on infiltrating a remote black site. Infiltrating The Metropolis itself? That was an entirely different proposition.

Maybe Luke or Serena could help. They had resources, connections.

But even if they agreed, there'd be questions—questions that would expose the truth about how she got her powers. Fii wasn't sure she was ready for that.

The next compartment had served as crew quarters. Personal effects lay scattered across bunks and floors—photographs, datapads, clothing. The mundane debris of lives interrupted. She gathered anything that might contain useful information, but her movements felt mechanical.

A sound from deeper in the module made her freeze. Not mechanical settling or wind through hull breaches. Footsteps.

"Fii?" Luke's voice echoed from somewhere ahead of her. "You in here?"

"Yeah. Back section." Relief flooded through her. The phase sickness had her jumping at shadows.

He appeared at the far end of the corridor, flashlight beam cutting through the gloom. "Thought I heard someone moving around. How's the search going?"

"Found something important," she said, holding up her scanner. "Personal correspondence from one of the researchers. Someone they were trying to consult about their findings."

Luke picked his way through the debris toward her. "Anyone significant?"

Fii hesitated. How much could she say without revealing too much? "Someone I know. A scientist. The message indicates she's being held somewhere in Metropolis."

"Held?" Luke's tone sharpened. "As in imprisoned?"

"Research facility. Corporate detention, from what I can tell." The words came out more clipped than she intended, but talking about Edith's situation made her chest tight with worry and anger.

Luke studied her expression in the dim light. "Important to you?"

"Yeah." The word came out smaller than she'd intended.

He didn't push for details, which she appreciated. "Corporate research facility means high security. Professional staff. Not the kind of place you walk into uninvited."

"I know."

They worked in companionable silence for the next twenty minutes, Luke helping her extract intact data storage units while she processed the implications. His presence steadied her—someone competent watching her back while her thoughts spiraled through possibilities and obstacles.

"Friend of yours?" he asked finally, voice carefully neutral.

Fii nodded, not trusting herself to say more. She could feel him waiting, letting the silence stretch.

Luke hefted a data storage unit, testing its weight. "Must be important, for you to look like someone punched you in the gut."

She managed a weak smile. "Something like that."

They emerged from the module to find the salvage operation in full swing. Teams of Collectors moved through the wreckage with practiced efficiency, loading useful components into cargo nets and marking heavier items for later retrieval. The work had a rhythm to it—decades of survival distilled into coordinated action.

"How's it looking?" Fii asked, squinting against the sun's glare.

"More than we can haul," Soren replied, shading her eyes as she surveyed the activity. "Gonna have to triage."

Fii could see the truth in that. Despite the damage, the wreckage held enough valuable tech to upgrade Haven's infrastructure significantly. They needed a long-range radio, solar panels, hydroponics gear...

Luke followed her gaze, evaluating the situation. "What's priority?"

"Food, water, shelter," Soren ticked items off on her fingers. "Energy production next. After that, we'll worry about niceties."

The priority order made sense. Fii knew the daily battle to keep everyone in Haven fed and sheltered and understood that no amount of medical equipment would matter if the settlement collapsed.

As salvage operations continued, she wandered between sections of the wreck, lending her powers where she could to lift or stabilize heavy components. Every task seemed to take longer than it should as she fought lingering phase sickness and the heat radiating up from the sand. By late afternoon she was flagging, arms trembling with fatigue and head throbbing from the exertion.

"Go rest," Luke told her, steadying her as she stumbled. "We'll finish up here."

Grateful, she nodded and found a patch of shade near one of the half-buried cargo containers where she could sit and recover. Despite the heat, the sleepiness from using her powers wouldn't let her stay awake for long.

Her eyelids drooped, the distant sounds of activity fading as she slipped into a light doze.