The drill screamed. Even through meters of alloy, pressure barriers, and silence, the sound made its way into the bones.

  “Depth: twenty meters… thirty… fifty,” Echo called out from the control terminal. ??“Steady load. No resistance yet.”

  Inside the observation hub, every eye was on the screen. Even Pixel had stopped joking. The room pulsed with the rhythm of machines. A low hum. A vibration through the floor. A countdown to discovery.

  Then— a jolt. The entire structure shuddered, not dangerously— but enough to draw sharp gnces.

  “Spike in resistance,” Echo confirmed. ??“Material density rising.”

  “What’s the reading?” Sky asked.

  “Basalt,” came the voice of the geological analyst on comms. ??“Tightly packed. Could be ancient va flow.”

  “Or shielding,” murmured Sphinx from his seat, almost to himself. ??“Perhaps they meant for it to remain buried.”

  “Or someone did,” Doc added grimly.

  “Screw that,” Rivet’s voice broke in, crisp and ready. ??“Switching out the head. Give me ten.”

  She was already halfway down the corridor toward the maintenance hatch. By the time the backup drill tip—titanium-reinforced and ser-etched—was prepped, the temperature warning had begun to fsh.

  “Overheating?” Ren asked.

  “Cooling rig’s pushing max capacity,” Pixel reported, fingers flying across his panel. ??“I’ll reroute the thermal regutor—give me thirty seconds.” ??“Make it twenty,” Rivet called from below.

  Arms danced briefly in red— and then faded as Pixel cracked the system.

  “We’re good,” he said, grinning. ??“Cool as sea cucumbers.”

  Rivet’s voice cut in dry: ??“Remind me to disconnect your metaphors next maintenance shift.” ??“That’s what makes me lovable,” Pixel quipped.

  Even Echo chuckled— a rare sound from a man usually made of wires and silence.

  But not everyone was amused. Inside the main chamber, pacing like a predator, was Mamba. She moved in tight, measured steps, hands behind her back, eyes locked on the central drill dispy.

  “At this rate,” she muttered, ??“we’ll be done by next century.”

  Ren, standing nearby, gnced toward Sky. She was still, arms crossed, face neutral— but her fingers tapped against her side with quiet irritation.

  Mamba turned sharply. ??“We have the equipment. The coordinates. The calcutions. Why this crawling pace?” ??“Because we don’t want to die digging into the unknown,” Sky replied without turning her head. ??“This mission isn’t just about reaching something— ??it’s about surviving what we find.” ??“You sound like a politician,” Mamba snapped. ??“We’re not here to hesitate. We’re here to evolve.” ??“And evolution doesn’t come from reckless burrowing,” Ren said calmly, stepping forward.

  The room went quiet. Even Thunder, who had been quietly checking pressure gauges, turned to listen.

  “Every meter we drill, we’re rewriting history,” Ren continued. ??“We go too fast, we might miss the warning signs.”

  Mamba didn’t respond. But her jaw clenched. Hard. She turned away— and stared back at the rotating drill, eyes burning.

  The tension didn’t break. But it settled. Coiled, like a waiting current.

  Hours passed. And the drill kept going. Downward. Relentless.

  “Sixty meters,” Echo reported. ??“Still descending.” ??“Temperature stable,” Pixel added. ??“Density consistent,” came the voice from the sub-sensor team.

  In the quiet between updates, Sphinx leaned toward Doc. ??“You feel it?” ??“What?” ??“The silence,” the old professor whispered. ??“It’s... different.”

  Doc didn’t reply. He simply looked at the readout— and nodded.

  Below them, in the dark yers of Earth untouched by time, something was shifting. Not stone. Not machine. Not yet. But something.

  Ren watched the drill, felt the pulse of it in his chest. He didn’t blink.

  “We’re close,” he whispered.

  Sky, standing beside him, heard the words. And she didn’t question them.