“Where are the guards?”
“Thermal shows nothing. Room is cold. Except for the servers.”
“Is it locked?”
“Checking … Wait.”Halo’s voice tightens.“That’s weird.”
“Define weird.”
“The electronic mag-lock. It’s offline. The circuit is dead. Someone sent a manual override command thirty seconds ago.”
“Did you kill it?”
“No. I’m good, but I’m not that fast. Someone inside opened it for you.”
I look at the door. A massive slab of steel designed to protect the most valuable data on earth.
It’s slightly ajar. A gap of darkness an inch wide.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Primal instinct screaming.
Trap.
“Who opened it?”
“Tracing the authorization packet … Hold on—routing through the executive proxy …”
I wait, scanning the rear, while Talia watches the door. Her face is a mask of concentration. She isn’t scared. She’s solving the puzzle.
“Got it,”Halo says.“Credentials belong to a Sophia Blackwell. VP of Operations.”
“Blackwell?” I look at Talia. “You know the name?”
“It was on the emails,” she says, her mind racing. “She was the recipient of Reed’s orders. VP level suggests deep involvement.”
“Hostile,” I say, raising my weapon.
“Maybe.” Talia steps closer to the gap. “But she unlocked the door. She let us in.”
“Or she invited us into a kill box.” I grab her shoulder, pulling her back. “We don’t just walk in.”
“If they wanted us dead, they would have kept the door locked and vented the atmosphere,” she argues, her logic cutting through my paranoia. “Or filled the room with Halon gas. Opening the door gave us a chance. She’s an anomaly.”
“Anomalies get people killed.” I move past her, pushing the heavy door with my boot, weapon trained on the darkness. “Stay behind me.” I raise my weapon, aiming at the darkness beyond. “We didn’t come this far to turn around.”
I push the heavy door. It swings inward on silent, well-oiled hinges.
The server room stretches out before us—row upon row of black monoliths, blinking with blue and green lights. The hum is deafening here. It sounds like a hive.
There are no guards. No bodies. Just the machine, waiting.
“Halo. We’re in.”
I glance at Talia. She grips the lead-lined pouch containing the Root Seed, her knuckles white against the dark fabric. The blue light of the servers reflects in her wide eyes.
I step into the room, weapon sweeping the corners. Nothing. Just the endless, rhythmic blinking of data being processed.
“Let’s plant the Seed and get the hell out of here.”
