He flushes and swivels back to his console so fast he nearly knocks over a cup.
I keep walking.
In my ear, Tatek murmurs, “They bought it.”
“They always do,” I say quietly. “The system was built to trust its architects.”
“And traitors.”
I smile without humor. “Especially traitors.”
The central console recognizes me the moment I step into its field.
Welcome back, Administrator Vance.
The interface blooms to life in front of me, layered permissions stacking open like obedient petals. Status trees. Relay diagnostics. Oversight loops.
Every line of it is familiar.
Painfully so.
I rest my hands on the haptic rim and let myself breathe for one second.
This console.
I helped design the command architecture that governs it. I wrote the original behavioral audit interlocks when the Coalition still pretended it cared about oversight. I remember arguing about checksum redundancy with a senior engineer who drank too much coffee and swore the system would never be abused because “no one at that level would dare.”
I almost laugh.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
Tatek’s voice answers instantly. “I’m with you. Corridor’s clear. No movement near your sector.”
“Signal strength?”
“Solid. Shortwave’s masked under maintenance chatter. You’re a ghost.”
Good.
I draw my fingers across the interface.
The system responds like a familiar animal, recognizing old patterns, offering me access layers without resistance. Not because my clearance is perfect.
Because my habits are.
I move through the menu structures with the ease of muscle memory, slipping past authorization nodes that were designed by hands that look suspiciously like mine.
Outer relay queue.
Subgrid bandwidth governors.
Failsafe mirrors.
All of it stacked and waiting.
“You’re inside the spine,” Tatek says quietly. “That was fast.”
“I always hated inefficiency,” I murmur.
