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His green ŭre brightened along his forearms, and when he finally met my eyes his voice came out quieter. “I do not know.” No evasion in it this time. That sounded real.

I backed off, hands open. “Okay.”

He watched me all the way back to my station.

I sank into my chair, my body refusing to do anything more than breathe. Sera’n had stayed behind after I left yesterday—and now he was gone. “Reassigned,” they said. Reassigned so abruptly he’d abandoned active samples on his desk, unprocessed and exposed. Yesterday, after I showed him the altered records, he’d made that private transmission. I tried to wall off the thought, to keep those two facts separate, but my mind bridged them instantly, coldly.

The terminal chimed.

I flinched so hard my knee hit the underside of the desk. The sound rang through the quiet lab.

Merik looked over. “Don’t,” I said, though he hadn’t spoken.

“I said nothing.”

“You were thinking something.”

His ŭre flickered faintly. “That is not something I can control.”

I turned back to the screen. PERSONNEL ACCESS UPDATE. My stomach clenched like a fist. I tapped it.

My laboratory clearance stayed active, along with specimen processing and my medical support classification. Everything essential to my job was still there—which made the rest harder to ignore. The historical database was gone. So was the reproductive compatibility data, the deceased-warrior records, the sample-origin cross-reference. Every permission I’d used yesterday had been revoked, and they hadn’t simply blocked the folders. They had narrowed my entire job, cutting me off from anything that might let me ask questions.

I stared at the screen a long moment. Someone was watching. And Sera’n, who had always stood between me and whoever was doing it, was no longer here to do it.

That realization landed harder than the missing permissions. Yesterday he had closed doors in my face. Today he was gone.

The two things had to be connected—Sera’n closing the doors in my face yesterday, and his absence today. That final, sharp gesture of his hadn’t been dismissal; it had been protection. The last thing he could do for me.

I signed out, my fingers unsteady on the screen.

“Your assigned samples are incomplete,” Merik said from his station.

“I know.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“You have two hours remaining in your shift.”

I forced a thin smile. “Sera’n sent me home early yesterday. Guess we’re starting a tradition.”

His brow creased. “Talia⁠—”

“I’m not feeling well,” I cut in, and that much was true. My stomach had twisted itself into a cold, hard knot. I grabbed my bag and was out the door before he could form another objection.

The corridor beyond the lab seemed different today. Same metallic walls, same recessed lighting, same Zunatorians moving between departments—and yet I noticed every security panel, every warrior, every camera I had stopped seeing months ago. Had they always been this obvious, or had I simply gotten comfortable? That possibility bothered me most. I had gotten comfortable on Zuna. Not happy, not completely, but settled enough to know which food stalls I liked, which transport routes were fastest, which lab technicians stole the good heating pads, and which shop near my quarters carried something close enough to coffee that I could lie to myself. I had built routines, and routines felt safe. Maybe that had been stupid.

By the time I reached my residential block, I had almost convinced myself I was overreacting. Then my door opened, and I knew before stepping inside that someone had been there.

Nothing dramatic. No broken lock, no overturned furniture—whoever had entered had been careful. Just not careful enough. The folded shirt I’d left over the back of the chair was now on the seat, one drawer sat a fraction of an inch open, and the cup beside my sleeping platform had been moved.

I stood in the doorway, staring. Maybe cleaning staff—except no one entered private quarters without notice. Maybe maintenance—except nothing was broken.

I stepped inside slowly and let the door seal behind me. Bad idea. I immediately reopened it. Better.

My heart beat too fast as I crossed the room, checking bag, clothing, personal papers. Nothing appeared missing.