THE GENERAL, THE BROKEN ARM, AND THE UNZIPPED JACKET THAT ALMOST STARTED A WAR

The sudden plunge into darkness was absolute. The amber emergency grid flickered once, gasped, and went completely dead as the main power relays finally succumbed to Rachel’s network freeze. In the pitch-black vault of Sub-Level Two, the only illumination came from the faint, rhythmic blinking of the portable data-siphon resting on Orson’s console.

“Don’t move!” Hayes’s voice cut through the dark, accompanied by the metallic scrape of his assault rifle’s safety switch clicking off. “Activate tactical night-vision visors! Nobody leaves this room!”

A soft green glow washed over the faces of the group as the security squad engaged their helmet optics. The eerie green light painted Eleanor’s weathered features in harsh, spectral tones. The general stood motionless, her hands still clasped behind her back, her posture unchanged despite the total loss of power.

Rachel’s hand remained firmly locked on the override toggle inside her unzipped black jacket, though her breathing grew slightly heavier in the confined space.

“You think darkness saves you, Captain?” Hayes sneered, stepping carefully toward the console with his rifle raised. “The data-siphon is still broadcasting. My squad can triangulate the signal source within ten seconds.”

“Let them try, Commander,” Orson’s voice came from the darkness near the incinerator shaft, calm and detached. “The broadcast completed its final packet transmission three seconds before the power grid collapsed. The files are already bouncing off the orbital relay network. You can smash this terminal into dust, but the truth is already orbiting the planet.”

Hayes swore viciously, swinging his rifle barrel toward the sound of Orson’s voice.

“Shut your mouth, old man—”

“Commander, stand down,” Eleanor commanded, her voice cutting through the tension with absolute finality. She stepped out of the green glow of the tactical visors, moving into the shadows near the center of the vault. “Shooting the archivist won’t recall the data packets. We need to assess what collateral damage this breach has caused to our operational integrity.”

Marcus let out a whimpering breath near the metal filing cabinets.

“Operational integrity?” Marcus whispered frantically. “General, we’re standing in the middle of a treasonous data leak while armed security officers have night-vision rifles pointed at our chests! There is no integrity left!”

Marta, who had stayed silent near the entrance throughout the descent, suddenly shifted her position. Her lone working arm brushed against a loose metal bracket on the wall near the ruined doorway. A sharp metallic clang echoed through the vault.

Hayes snapped his rifle toward the sound.

“Who’s there? Identify yourself!”

“It’s just me, Commander,” Marta said, her voice remarkably steady despite the terror hanging in the air. “I’m just trying to find my way back to the stairs. My arm hurts, and this damp air isn’t doing my bones any favors.”

“Stay where you are, cleaner,” Hayes barked, keeping his weapon trained on the doorway. “Nobody leaves until I have confirmation from central command on how to handle this breach.”

Rachel leaned back against a silent server tower, her dark eyes reflecting the green light of the security visors. She could feel the fiber-optic cable beneath her boots, still taut and functional.

“You’re waiting for a secure ping from the tribunal, aren’t you, Hayes?” Rachel asked quietly, a cynical edge to her voice. “You’re hoping the high command authorizes an orbital strike on this facility to bury the whole mess before the broadcast hits the civilian relays.”

Hayes didn’t answer immediately. The silence in the dark vault stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the hum of the blinking data-siphon.

Then, the tactical display inside Hayes’s helmet flashed a brilliant, pulsing red.

[Incoming encrypted transmission from High Command Orbital Station. Priority Level: Zero.]