“I become the decoy,” I say. “I show up somewhere public enough that they can’t just vanish me without witnesses, but controlled enough that Kaijen can lock it down. You run containment. Kill-box logistics. Quiet shooters. Exit routes.”
Clint stares at me like I just proposed juggling grenades.
Lonari’s voice is low. “You’d be the bait.”
“Yes,” I say, and my hands shake slightly so I curl them into fists. “Because if they’re here, they have to communicate. They have to coordinate. They have to touch systems. We can catch their comm chain. We can trace it back toward High Lantern.”
Lonari’s eyes sharpen. “Digital bait.”
I nod quickly. “I’ll plant a false data packet—something that looks like the full biometric imprint plus a location tag. Something that screams ‘High Lantern evidence is here.’ If the Nine bites, they’ll ping their handler. They’ll pull resources.”
Clint swallows. “And if they don’t bite?”
“Then we move again,” I say. “But we don’t sit still.”
Lonari’s mouth tightens as he weighs risk.
“You just survived a market hit,” he says.
“And I learned something,” I snap. “They weren’t trying to kill me. They were trying to steal my compad. They want keys. They want control. They want the evidence.”
I point at the locked terminal. “We just told High Lantern we’re close. That means they’ll accelerate. If we don’t force them into the open, we’ll be reacting forever.”
Clint rubs a hand over his face. “This is insane.”
“It’s necessary,” I say.
Lonari looks at me for a long moment. In his gaze I see calculation, yes, but also something else—respect edged with worry, the kind of worry that doesn’t feel like a leash.
Finally, he says, “Alright.”
Clint’s head snaps up. “Alright?”
Lonari nods once. “We build the trap.”
My chest loosens by a fraction, then tightens again because agreement makes it real.
Lonari steps closer to the table and gestures at my holo system. “You handle digital bait. I handle physical.”
“Kill-box logistics,” I say, and my voice shakes with adrenaline.
Lonari’s mouth curves faintly. “Exactly.”
Clint looks between us. “What the hell have I walked into?”
I glance at him. “The part where we stop asking nicely.”
He swallows hard. “Okay. So what do you need from me?”
I blink, surprised by the immediate loyalty—then I remember he’s already crossed the line. There’s no going back.
“Help me write the bait packet,” I say. “Make it believable in IHC syntax. Something the Nine would forward up the chain without thinking twice.”
Clint exhales. “I can do that.”
Lonari points at the room’s security monitor. “And you,” he says to Clint, “stay under Kaijen escort. You’re a target now.”
Clint gives a bleak laugh. “Yeah. I figured.”
