Chapter 82 — The Last Seed Keeper

The shadow of the Upper Arch stretched across Ash Field from a distance farther than any other Arch Khe Mien had ever approached, a giant sphere that sparkled with artificial light even at midday, and as the group crouched behind a low ridge of rocks about half a mile from the southern side gate, she clearly felt the same cold feeling that had overcome her the first time she saw it, many months ago.

"This gate is still guarded as Doanh Ba Thong described," Bach Lam whispered, lowering his old binoculars after observing in silence for nearly ten minutes. "Two people, changing shifts every four hours. But there's a new observation station above, something that didn't exist last time."

"They are more alert," Kien said, lying close next to him, his eyes also fixed on the side gate in the distance. "Maybe because they know we'll be back."

Khe Mien didn't answer right away, her eyes scanned the entire giant structure in front of her, trying to remember every detail Doanh Ba Thong once told about the Base Floor - the lowest area of the Upper Dome, where unprivileged workers lived in the eternal darkness of the higher floors. "We can't get in through the main gate tonight," she said finally. "But Doanh Ba Thong once mentioned an old drainage pipe, no longer in use many years ago, leading from outside directly into the Basement area. He said it was located about a hundred steps east of this side gate, hidden by a pile of rubble."

They moved in the dark as the sun had completely set, crawling across the rough terrain with the utmost caution, and after nearly an hour of intense searching, Kien finally discovered the mouth of the water pipe partially covered by sand that had accumulated over the years, just as described. Bach Lam used his knife to pry open the rusty iron mesh that covered the entrance, and the three crawled into the damp darkness of the pipe, the smell of old metal and stagnant water clinging to their throats from the first steps.

The pipeline led them in near-absolute darkness for more than twenty minutes, with only the weak light from a small lamp Bach Lam held in his hand to light the way, until they reached another screen door, this time so rusty that it was almost rotten, opening up a space completely different from anything Khe Mien had ever imagined about the Upper Dome.

The Base Floor spread out before their eyes like a maze of low buildings built on top of each other, weak artificial light from old light bulbs hanging over narrow alleys, the air was thick with the smell of mold and coal smoke from small outdoor cooking stoves. Somewhere far away, the hum of machinery echoed through the walls — the industrial heartbeat of the entire Upper Dome, maintained by the hands of people who lived in this very darkness without ever seeing the real sunlight shining above the dome's top.

"This is where Doanh Ba Thong once led us through," Khe Mien said softly, recognizing a few familiar details from his previous escape. "He said there's someone here who often helps him deliver messages — a woman who sells rags at the corner of the Base Floor market."

They moved cautiously through the dark alleys, trying to blend in with the few people still walking around at this hour, until they found a small, rickety stall filled with pieces of old fabric carefully sorted by color and size, under the light of a flickering oil lamp. The woman sitting behind the stall, in her fifties, her face lined with deep wrinkles from a life of tireless work, looked up at them with immediate alarm when she realized they were not from the Base Floor.

"We don't buy fabric," Khe Mien said quietly, kneeling down at stall level to reduce attention from passersby. "We're looking for a friend of Doanh Ba Thong."

The woman's face stiffened, and for a moment, Khe Mien feared she had chosen the wrong person, until she lowered her voice to a level barely audible. “Come inside,” she said, gesturing toward the tattered cloth curtain behind the stall. "Hurry, before anyone notices."

Inside the small, dark room behind the stall, so cramped that the four of them had to stand almost next to each other, the woman introduced herself as Vinh Thi Ngoan, who had lived on the Base Floor since birth, and had been helping Doanh Ba Thong deliver messages for nearly three years without knowing the exact content of what she was carrying, only knowing that it was something important, something that could one day change the lives of people like her.

"He was arrested five days ago," Vinh Thi Ngoan said, her voice shaking with both worry and grief. "Canh Ba Tuyen personally led the team to his office in the Private Archives, in broad daylight, in front of everyone, as if wanting to show the entire Upper Dome what happened to traitors."

Khe Mien felt her heart sink at the news, even though she had been mentally preparing for the worst the whole way. "Is he alive?" she asked, her voice shaking despite her efforts to remain calm.

"I heard so," Vinh Thi Ngoan replied, "but I'm not sure. They're holding him in the secure area below Base Level, a place where even the people here rarely dare to mention the name, because those who are sent there rarely come out intact."

"Do you know how to get there?" Bach Lam asked, his voice sharp with the concentration of someone used to planning in dire situations.

Vinh Thi Ngoan was silent for a long time, her eyes moving back and forth between the three strangers standing in front of her, weighing the weight of the decision about to be made. "My son works on the ventilation maintenance team for the entire security complex," she said finally. "It may know a few passages that the guards don't regularly patrol. But if I help you guys, and they find out, not only me, but also it will pay the price."

"We can't force you to do that," Khe Mien said, even though she clearly felt time running out every hour. "But I want you to know, if he dies in there without anyone trying, then all the sacrifices he made for people like you, for this Foundation, for all the Domes trying to escape the Central Council's control, will be for nothing."

A heavy silence enveloped the small room, with only the distant hum of machinery echoing through the thin walls, and Kien, standing quietly in the corner of the room throughout the conversation, finally spoke with a sincerity that calmed the room. “He taught me something,” he said, remembering Ngan The Binh with a pain that was still fresh. "That sometimes, leading the way is not about knowing all the answers, but about knowing when to stop to help someone else, no matter how dangerous it is. I think Doanh Ba Thong has lived by that principle for many years, for people he has never met."

Vinh Thi Ngoan looked at him for a long time, her eyes shining with something softer than the initial caution. "My son got off work at midnight," she said finally, her voice carrying a decision that had been made. "I will take you to see him. But then, no matter what happens, you must leave the Basement before morning, and never mention my name or my child's name to anyone, not even your own alliance members."

"We promise," Khe Mien replied, squeezing her hand in a gesture of deep gratitude.

While waiting for midnight, Vinh Thi Ngoan brought out some dry cakes and water, which she shared with the three uninvited guests as if they were long-time acquaintances, and in that silence, she briefly told about life on the Base Floor — the long, endless shifts to maintain all the systems serving the higher floors that were never seen, food rations much meager than what Khe Mien had known even during the worst days of the crisis. of the Green Dome, and a constant fear of being "transferred" if they dared to speak out against anything.

“We built the glory of the Upper Dome with our own hands,” she said, her voice carrying a bitterness that had built up over decades, “but were never allowed to go up to those heights to see it, except when called up to fix something broken, then brought down again as soon as the job was done.”

Hearing those words, Khe Mien felt a new anger rising in her heart, different from the anger she had felt when reading documents about the Great Transformation - this was a naked injustice, present right before her eyes, without any historical documents to prove it. “If we succeed,” she said, “I promise the Foundation will not be forgotten in anything we build later.”

Vinh Thi Ngoan did not respond immediately, just nodded slowly, as if she had heard too many similar promises in her life to completely believe right away, but no longer had the strength to refuse a small glimmer of hope, no matter how fragile.

When the distant bell signaling the change of shift rang somewhere above, Vinh Thi Ngoan stood up, putting on an old cloak to cover her face in the darkness. “It's time,” she said. "Follow me, and keep absolutely quiet until I give the signal."

All three of them followed her out of the small room, into the darkness of the Basement alleys, toward the security area where, somewhere beneath the concrete and metal, Doanh Ba Thong was still waiting, unaware that the people he once risked their lives to help were now risking their lives to find him again.