Security clearance revoked.
They’re feeding her to the machine she used to run.
And I’m gonna burn for it.
I findher outside the arena.
She’s sitting on the edge of a loading dock, back to the concrete wall, knees pulled tight under her chin. She’s got a jacket draped over her shoulders like armor, but her hands shake every time she exhales.
No cameras here. No crowd.
Just the back lot. Smells like coolant, ozone, and cigarette ash. The sky overhead is washed-out gray, no stars visible even though the dome's transparent. A drizzle of static rain flickers along the shield above us, castoff from a passing freighter.
She doesn’t hear me at first.
Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care.
I don’t say anything.
I sit.
Not close.
But close enough.
After a while, she speaks.
“They didn’t even call me.”
Her voice is flat.
“I found out when my access badge stopped working.”
I nod.
She keeps talking. Her gaze stays on the rain-flecked skyline, but her words are razor-sharp.
“Did everything by the book. Triple-sourced. Cross-referenced. Legal vet signed off last week. Someone wanted it buried.”
“I know.”
She glances at me.
Then back to the sky.
“I used to think if I just told the truth loud enough, people would care.”
“They do.”
“Not the right people.”
A long silence stretches between us. I don’t rush her. I know what this is. Not just a professional implosion. It’s personal.
It’s everything.
She’s unraveling right in front of me.
And she’s letting me see it.
