Tatek’s jaw works, slow and silent. Then: “And he just wants to give it to you?”
“He wants extraction. Off-station.”
Tatek barks a single laugh—humorless and sharp. “Of course he does.”
I cross my arms, digging fingers into my elbows. “You think he’s lying.”
“Iknowhe’s lying.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He ghosted you for over a year, Mara. He left you twisting with half a trail and no warning, and now—just when we’re out in the open, just when it’s finally starting to fracture—he pops back up waving the golden key? No. I don’t buy it.”
“I don’t care.”
Tatek goes still. All that movement, all that coiled energy—gone in a breath. He studies me like he’s trying to see past the surface.
“Mara.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like it’s a sedative.”
“I'm trying to keep you alive.”
I laugh—quiet and sharp, just this side of bitter. “Yeah, well, I’ve been doing that myself for a long time. This isn’t about survival anymore.”
“Itshouldbe.”
“Why?” My voice rises, hot in my throat. “So we can survive long enough to watch them overwrite someone else? Replace another kid who asked the wrong question? Lose another friend who just got too curious? No.No. If I don’t do this—if I don’t follow this—then everything we’ve done is noise. Just static in the dark.”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, slower this time.
“I don’t trust him,” he says finally. “And you shouldn’t either.”
I take a step toward him. “I know what he is. Better than anyone. But I also know what heknows. And if there’s even a chance he’s telling the truth—if that key exists and he’s holding it—I can’t walk away from that. Not now.”
Tatek doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches between us, taut as wire.
When he does speak, it’s so soft I almost miss it.
“You’re willing to stake all of it on him?”
“No,” I say. “I’m staking it onme.”
I move past him, not touching, not waiting. I cross to the desk, pull up the terminal and start cycling routes. I don’t look back.
His voice comes again, behind me. Low. Not resigned—but something else. Something quieter. Sadder.
“This is the first time we’ve really fought.”
I stop typing. Let my hand rest on the edge of the screen.
“Yeah,” I say.
“You going to let it be the last?”
I turn. Meet his eyes.
“No,” I whisper. “Because you’ll come with me.”
