“Some,” he replies. “Others went dark the moment the broadcast hit.”
“They’re running,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Then they’re confirming themselves,” I reply.
He hesitates slightly.
“That gives us targets,” he says.
“It gives us responsibility,” I correct.
There’s a brief pause on the line.
“…Understood,” he says.
I close the primary list and bring up a filtered version, isolating the highest-risk nodes, the ones closest to operational command, the ones that matter most.
“Lock down internal channels,” I order. “Full audit. No silent movement, no unverified transmissions. I want everything visible.”
“That’s going to slow operations,” he says.
“Good,” I reply. “We’re not moving fast right now. We’re moving clean.”
He nods once.
“Yes, sir.”
“And the ones still active,” I continue, my tone sharpening slightly, “I want them contained before they realize how exposed they are.”
“Contained how?” he asks.
I finally look up.
“Alive,” I say. “For now.”
That lands.
He doesn’t question it.
“Understood.”
The comm cuts, and the silence that follows settles heavier than before, not because nothing is happening, but because everything is.
I lean back slightly, my hand pressing against the edge of the console as I close my eyes for a brief moment, letting the information settle into something I can act on instead of just process.
I missed it.
Not the data.
Not the signs.
The pattern.
That realization doesn’t come with anger.
It comes with clarity.
