Command Room — Leah Gagnon
The chamber feed was gone — completely blacked out — but Leah refused to sit idle. She dove deeper into the restricted archive, bypassing layers of redaction that shouldn’t have been possible to bypass at all. A folder blinked into view.
NS‑ARCHIVE / OMEGA‑3 / TRANSFER‑LOGS / UNINDEXED
Her pulse quickened. She opened it. Inside were only three files. Two were corrupted beyond recovery. The third was intact. She clicked it.
A transfer manifest appeared — no header, no signature, no timestamp. Just a destination code and a single name.
BR‑12 → CA‑47 / Hale, Marcus Hale
Leah’s breath caught.
CA‑47.
She ran the code through the cross‑border database. The result hit like a punch.
Location: Saskatchewan, rural. Decommissioned agricultural research station. Northstar's lease expired 14 years ago.
Except that the lease had not expired. They renewed it under a different shell company.
Leah’s stomach twisted. “Carter,” she said into the mic, voice tight, “I found something. Hale’s not in Montana. He’s in Canada.”
Static crackled. Hayes’ voice came through, breathless from movement. “Where?”
“A site in Saskatchewan. Code CA‑47. It’s old, but it’s active. And Carter—”
She hesitated. “What?” Hayes demanded.
"The file was not in the NorthStar system. Kline’s personal archive contained it."
A beat of silence. Then Hayes: “Meaning Hale isn’t just another doctor.”
“No,” Leah whispered. “He’s part of whatever Kline is doing. And he’s doing it up there.”
###
Inside Fourteen — Elijah Greyhawk
Elijah lunged again, but Kline stepped back with infuriating calm, tapping the control on his wrist. The implant in Chet’s skull pulsed, sending another wave of agony through him.
Chet cried out. Elijah froze.
Kline smiled faintly. "Do you see? You’re predictable. You care."
Elijah’s voice was raw. “Turn it off.”
"Why would I?” Kline asked. “This is data.”
Elijah moved again — slower this time, controlled — but Kline expected it, stepping behind a console that hummed with low, pulsing energy.
“You think this is cruelty,” Kline said. “But cruelty is primitive. This is refinement.”
Elijah’s hands curled into fists. “You’re killing him.”
“No,” Kline said softly. “I’m testing him.”
He tapped another control. Chet’s body jerked violently. Elijah’s rage surged.
###
Level Five — Chet Good Thunder
The world fractured again — light, sound, pain, then nothing, then everything.
Chet heard Elijah shouting. He heard Kline’s voice — calm, clinical, wrong. He felt the implant pulse like a second heartbeat.
Chet tried to speak, but his throat wouldn’t work. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. But he could hear. And he heard Elijah say his name. That was enough.
###
Lower Corridors — Hayes’ Team
Hayes dropped into the drainage cut first, boots hitting the concrete with a muted thud. Rourke followed, then Torres. Marianne and Evan came last, sealing the rope line behind them.
The corridor was narrow; the air stale and cold. Their footsteps echoed softly.
Hayes keyed his mic. “Leah, we’re in.”
Leah’s voice came through, tight with urgency. “Carter — I found Hale. He’s in Canada, Saskatchewan. A site called CA‑47.”
Hayes didn’t slow. “We’ll deal with that after we get Elijah and Chet out.”
“There’s more,” Leah said. “The file hid in Kline’s personal archive. Whatever Hale is doing up there, it’s connected to this chamber.”
Hayes’ jaw tightened. “Understood.”
Marianne glanced at him. “What’s going on?”
“Hale’s not here,” Hayes said. “He’s running something in Canada.”
Evan swore under his breath. “Of course he is.”
Hayes raised a fist, signaling silence. A low hum vibrated through the corridor — faint, rhythmic, unnatural. Torres whispered, “What is that?”
Hayes didn’t answer. He knew. It was the same hum they’d heard in the chamber above.
The implant. They were close.
###
Inside Fourteen — Elijah
Elijah slammed into Kline, knocking him backward into the console. Sparks flew. The lights flickered. The hum of the implant surged, then faltered.
Chet gasped — a ragged, broken sound. Kline hit the floor, dazed but smiling.
“You’re stronger than I expected,” he murmured. “Good.”
Elijah grabbed him by the collar. “Turn it off.”
Kline’s smile widened. “Make me.”