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His head turned slightly. “What?”

“The records.”

His attention sharpened completely; I could feel the shift in his posture. “Explain.”

“He had his own comparison set open this morning,” I continued, wrapping my arms around myself. “Duplicate identifiers. Changed values. He’d been building it manually.”

“How long?” he asked, clipped.

“I don’t know.”

“Did he tell you?”

“No.”

“Did you copy it?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Did you take any part of it?”

“No.”

His questions came faster now, intent. “Did you see names?”

I hesitated. “A few.”

“Remember them?”

I looked at him then. There it was—the shift. Not suspicion anymore, but something sharper. Interest. Professional, intense interest.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“How many?”

My mind scrambled. “I don’t know. Maybe six. Eight.”

“Warriors?”

“Mostly.”

“Dead?”

I bit my lip before answering. His eyes narrowed.

“What?” he demanded.

“One wasn’t.”

The transport seemed to grow quieter, the hum of the engine fading into background noise.

“Who?” he asked, voice low.

My memory flickered, unreliable. “I don’t remember the full identifier.”

“Try.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

I closed my eyes, calling up the image of Sera’n’s screen. Numbers, accession codes, warrior identifiers scrolling past. One line stood out—no death registry marker. Something strange attached to it.