Now for the other.
I tap into the education center’s archival system through a proxy layer and slip into the incident log.
There’s still footage.
Even after I asked Delma to hold it.
Shefiled it anyway.
I swear under my breath and pull up the security node hash. A few keystrokes later, I isolate the clip. The one from earlier. The tunnel. The roar.
I delete it. Every copy. Every node ping. Gone.
It won’t buy me much. Not long. But maybe long enough to prepare. Or run. Again.
I scrub the file manifest and log out, setting the tracer self-erasure to a three-minute delay.
I’ve done this before.
Too many times.
My hands shake the entire time.
Because this isn’t just survival anymore.
It’sher.
The next morninghits like a gut punch.
I’ve barely dropped Nessa at school when my comm flashes again. This time it’s internal:Performance Evaluation – Lead Cyberneticist: Dr. Rynn Sorala. Attn: Commander Tarek.
Perfect.
The conference room smells like antiseptic and steel. Too clean. Like they’re trying to cover something up.
Tarek sits at the head of the table, posture too relaxed. Like a wolf playing nice.
His fingers steeple over a thin dossier. Nothing on the table but that and a mug of synth-caf he hasn’t touched.
I sit across from him and fold my hands.
“Doctor,” he says smoothly, like he hasn’t been shadowing me for weeks. “Thanks for coming in on short notice.”
I nod. “Of course.”
He slides the dossier toward me but doesn’t let go. “We’ve been reviewing your department’s compliance metrics. Stellar,as usual. Cybernetic rejection rates have dropped 13%. Neural mapping efficiency is up.”
“Thank you.”
He taps the folder with one finger. “That said, a few minor irregularities came up. Nothing major. Timing inconsistencies. Security log gaps. Nothing... alarming.”
My pulse flickers. “That’s expected. Most field staff still use legacy implants. They lag behind in timestamp pings.”
“Sure,” he says, like he buys it. “We also noted some unusual traffic patterns in your home’s data access node.”
My smile is tight. “I do a lot of after-hours work. You know how it is.”
“Work.” He echoes it, rolls the word around like he’s tasting it.
