They flattened themselves against the wall when the next batch of Obsidian Corp. employees stepped into the elevator, then slipped past them into the lobby before the doors closed.

The optical camouflaging concealed them long enough for them to hop straight over the turnstiles without activating the retina scanners, then they pulled up Tom’s mental map. They needed to get to one of Obsidian Corp.’s neural access ports. It was their first task.

They slipped out of the hallways sprinkled with employees and ventured into the sectors of Obsidian Corp. minimally fit for human presence where the lights were dim, the floors lined with power plates for the various machines. This was where Praetorians slid through the halls on a standard patrol, with others in sleep mode, tucked against the walls.

Remember, stay off the floors, Vik thought to them as they waited in the doorway to the machine-heavy sector.

Tom nodded, even though Vik couldn’t see it. Not only would they get electrocuted by the conductive floors powering the Praetorians, they’d set off every alarm in the place if their footfalls tripped the sensors on the ground.

They stood there, so close they were all touching, optically camouflaged inside the doorway, waiting for a Praetorian.

Tom’s heart began to pound. They’d practiced this next part in the Spire twenty-five times, using the old Praetorian in storage. That one couldn’t see through their optical camouflage. Now it would count.

Tom drew a sharp breath when a Praetorian circled around the corner, its curving metallic head atop its pendulous base. It slid toward them down the hallway, and Tom felt like worms were writhing in his gut. One command from a remote operator, and these machines could flood the hallway with poison gas, could electrocute them, could slice their heads off with lasers, or crush them to death. If Wyatt’s code wasn’t perfect, if one of them slipped, if Vik’s fingers weren’t nimble enough, they all died.

As the machine slid past them, Tom seized its rounded head and swung himself onto the base. He felt it sway as Vik and Wyatt eased themselves on as well. He twisted around the neck to expose the back panel, and Wyatt quickly stripped it away to expose the control chip.

Just as the pinpoint camera of the Praetorian lit up, a lethal red light of an alarm igniting in its depths, Vik yanked out its control chip and set about jamming the new one in its place. Tom watched, heart in his throat, wishing his fingers had been nimble enough to do it. But it worked. The Praetorian’s system blinked out, reset.

They waited. Tom could sense Wyatt and Vik’s tension behind the optical camouflage. He could hear them breathing rapidly.