Plain as day.
The wild water holds trace protective proteins—something natural in the ecosystem. Maybe a byproduct of the native bacterial flora. Something that’s kept me from slipping into the haze. But in the new camp supply, it’s gone.
Stripped.
Replaced.
My fingers shake as I close the analyzer. I don’t drink the camp water. I haven’t since Maug told me something was wrong. But now I know it’s not just off.
It’s beenaltered.
Intentionally.
I step away from the desk and suddenly feel the weight of eyes.
Turning, I catch Em across the dome. She’s just standing there. Smiling faintly. Nothing in her hands. Nothing to do. Her eyes don’t flinch away when I meet them.
She knows I’m awake.
Not awake in the literal sense. Awake as innot them.
They’re not just infected. They’rewatchingme now.
I leave the lab in a slow, measured stride, forcing my breath even. Don’t run. Don’t panic. That’s what they’d expect.
Darwin intercepts me before I reach the bunks.
His grin’s too wide. Every tooth gleaming like a billboard ad. “Morning, sunshine.”
I keep my voice cool. “You’re up early.”
“Didn’t sleep much,” he says, shrugging. “Too excited. You know how it is. Big things happening.”
My stomach flips. “Like what?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” he says, tapping the side of his nose. “Ciampa’s got something special planned. Wants all of us to be there.”
I nod slowly. “Right.”
“Hey,” he adds, stepping closer. “You ever think about how quiet it’s been lately? How peaceful?”
His eyes are glass. Wide. Too wide.
“Sure,” I lie. “It’s nice.”
He nods like I passed a test.
When I get to my bunk, I lock the curtain shut and sit on the edge of the cot.
Something is wrong. I mean, it’sallwrong—but now it’s turning. Sharper. Deliberate.
I reach for my compad to log what I saw in the tank.
It’s gone.
In its place is a blank unit. Fresh from storage. No logs. No personal notes. No encryption. No trace of my data.
Erased.
