I don’t take the bait.
Instead, I swivel the display toward him and tap three separate data logs in rapid succession.
“Three trials. Three inconsistent emitter calibrations. Same success rate to within two-tenths of a percent. That’s not innovation, that’s a statistical impossibility.”
He doesn’t look at the screen.
He doesn’t need to.
That’s the part that makes my stomach turn.
His eyes stay locked on mine, patient. Measured. A little too still.
“Nova, you’re too valuable to this program to be wasting time on old logs,” he says finally, voice dropping into something almost kind. “This technology is moving faster than the metrics can track. We’re writing new rules as we go.”
“And who’s signing off on those new rules?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “You don’t trust me?”
I want to laugh. Or throw something. Instead, I lean back in the chair, force my body to stay loose.
“I trust physics.”
He chuckles, just once. Then steps back, smoothing his coat. “Look,” he says. “Why don’t we continue this discussion later? I was just on my way to a... strategic meeting.” The pause is deliberate. “Private. Small group. Just a handful of us pushing through some mission-critical timelines.”
Right.
Strategic meeting, my ass.
He smiles again, wider now, as if this is all perfectly normal. “You should join us. I’d value your perspective.”
He’s too close to the console.
Too close to my compad.
Too close to seeing how much I’ve already flagged.
“No, thanks,” I say, voice clipped.
His smile doesn’t drop.
But his eyes sharpen.
“Shame,” he says, stepping back. “You’re very important to this program, Nova.”
I nod. Not agreeing. Just... acknowledging.
Then I turn off the console, close my compad with a soft snap, and walk out without another word.
Later that night, in my quarters, I double-lock the door. I engage both physical and digital protocols—local encryption, hidden biometric overrides, and a firewall loop I lifted off a decommissioned Navy stealth drone. I’m not messing around.
Dar’s already asleep. He stirred when I came in, blinked once at me, and mumbled something about dinosaurs before rolling over. I tucked him in and stood over him longer than I needed to.
I sit now at the small console by the kitchen, staring at the drive as it lights up under my palm. The data is secure. For now.
I plug in the compad. The screen floods with numbers.
I copy everything.
