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“This.”

I frowned.

“You agree?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if the system works, we get closer without exposing ourselves. And if it fails, I understand those systems better than I understand open combat.”

Correct. I disliked it anyway.

She saw that. Of course she saw that.

“You asked,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And I chose. You don’t like my choice.”

“No.”

A small smile touched her mouth. “Good.”

I almost smiled back. Almost.

She turned to the display and zoomed in on the logistics overlay, her finger hovering over the transfer node.

“We need a legitimate custody packet,” she said.

“I can fabricate one.”

“No.”

I looked at her. She shook her head without looking up from the screen. “You can fabricate the access shell. I need to build the specimen logic.”

I waited. She was already typing, her mouth pulled to one side the way it did when she was working around a problem she hadn’t explained yet.

“If you make the wrong chain sequence, the system will flag it,” she said.

“What would make it wrong?”

“Too clean.”

I frowned. She glanced over at me and looked almost offended by my expression.

“Real lab routing is messy,” she said, tapping the screen with one fingernail for emphasis. “Transfers get delayed. Samples get relabeled. Storage gets reassigned. Temporary holds happen.”

“I thought the system valued accuracy,” I said.

“It does.”

“That sounds contradictory.”

She gave me a flat look over the display’s edge. “Welcome to laboratory administration.”

I watched her work, her fingers moving with a certainty that didn’t require conscious thought. She built the custody path from memory, not guessing but recognizing patterns. Facility category. Transfer purpose. Temperature requirement. Handling restriction. Administrative hold. When she inserted a delayed confirmation marker, I tilted my head.