The challenge begins with a timed obstacle course that requires one partner to guide the other through a maze while blindfolded. Standard trust exercise, elevated by cameras and dramatic lighting.
Trinity volunteers to go first, accepting the blindfold with casual confidence. I position myself at the communication station, studying the maze layout while she settles into starting position.
"Ready when you are," she calls out.
I begin guiding her through the course, my voice steady and precise as I call out directions. She responds instantly to each instruction, moving with surprising grace for someonenavigating blind. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Complete trust in my guidance.
When did earning that trust become so important to me?
She reaches the first checkpoint in record time, her success drawing excited commentary from the producers. Genuine accomplishment, achieved through actual partnership rather than manufactured drama.
"Your turn," she says, pulling off the blindfold and grinning with triumph.
I accept the blindfold, settling into the controlled darkness while Trinity studies the return course. Different obstacles, requiring different skills. I'll need to trust her tactical assessment completely.
"Okay, big guy. Three steps forward, then there's a low barrier. You'll need to duck."
Her voice has the same calm authority she'd used while evaluating breakfast pastries. Professional competence applied to an unfamiliar situation. I follow her guidance without question, moving through the maze with growing appreciation for her spatial reasoning abilities.
We complete the first challenge in half the time of our competitors, earning enthusiastic producer commentary and grudging respect from the camera crew.
"Excellent work!" Marcus calls out. "Now for the real test of partnership, the trust fall sequence!"
My blood chills as I recognize the setup. The rope climb with the compromised safety equipment, positioned over padding that looks substantial but wouldn't prevent serious injury from height.
Trinity approaches the climbing apparatus with professional assessment, testing handholds and checking equipment one final time. I watch the control booth, noting which technicianhas their hand hovering over what I now recognize as a remote trigger system.
They're really going to do it. Risk her safety for dramatic footage.
"Trinity." I catch her attention before she begins climbing. "The secondary safety line shows signs of stress fatigue. Rely primarily on your own strength and the main attachment."
She nods, accepting my assessment without question. But I can see the compromise won't be enough to prevent their planned sabotage. They'll trigger the malfunction regardless, creating their desired footage of vulnerability and rescue.
Unacceptable.
I position myself directly beneath the climbing apparatus, ostensibly to spot her ascent but actually to intercept any fall the producers might engineer. If their sabotage succeeds, I'll be in position to minimize harm and maximize their liability.
"Beginning ascent," Trinity calls out, starting her climb with smooth, efficient movements.
She's stronger than expected, moving up the rope with steady determination. The camera operators track her progress eagerly, waiting for their cue to begin recording "spontaneous" equipment failure.
I watch the control booth, timing their trigger finger against Trinity's position on the rope. When she reaches the predetermined failure point, I'll have perhaps two seconds to react.
Two seconds to choose between following orders and protecting someone who's begun to matter more than tactical advantage should allow.
Trinity reaches the midpoint of her climb, muscles working smoothly as she maintains steady progress. The technician's finger moves toward the trigger.
Time slows.
I realize that somewhere between tactical assessment and genuine partnership, between strategic cooperation and shared laughter over terrible coffee, Trinity has become more than a mission asset.
She's become someone I want to protect not because strategy demands it, but because the thought of her being hurt for entertainment makes rage flood my system like poison.
The emotional complication I swore to avoid has already occurred.
And as the technician's finger descends toward the trigger that will sabotage Trinity's safety equipment, I abandon all pretense of diplomatic neutrality and prepare to ensure that anyone who threatens her will face immediate and memorable consequences.
CHAPTER 7
