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Access denied.

Expected.

Then I tried the legal death archive. A result populated.

Talia leaned closer. “Is that him?”

“It is.”

“Can you check whether he has reproductive records?”

“Not from this system.”

“But somebody can.”

I looked at the denial code on the screen. “Yes.”

The thought sat badly.

Because I knew what level of access would be required to bridge those compartments. Not one laboratory worker. Not Sera’n. Not a clerical administrator quietly changing compatibility percentages for personal gain.

Military.

Reproductive.

Classified.

Separate systems.

Separate authorities.

Someone had either moved through all three or several people had coordinated across them.

Talia read the change in my expression. “How bad?”

“Worse than I thought.”

She lowered herself into the chair. “That is not reassuring coming from you.”

“No.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

I considered what I could safely reveal. Then reconsidered the word safely.

That framework had become increasingly unreliable.

My finger rested on the glowing identifier. “This record requires restricted military clearance to access,” I said, watching her absorb the implication.

Talia gave a single, sharp nod, her gaze fixed on the screen.

“Connecting that legal death identity to an active operational designation,” I continued, “demands an entirely different authority. A separate key.”

“And reproductive data is walled off in another system entirely,” she finished, her voice low.

I confirmed it with a nod. “Yes.”

She was silent for a beat, processing the architecture of the betrayal. “So one person would need keys to all three locks?”