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That was not in the mission file. I had read every line. “By how much?”

“Enough,” she said, her voice dropping.

“Specific.”

She glared at me, her jaw working. Then, reluctantly: “From sixty-two percent to ninety-four.” Her eyes flicked up to mine. “And the secondary markers went from amber to green across the board.”

The discrepancy was substantial. Too substantial for recalibration. “What did Sera’n say?” I asked.

She let out a sharp breath. “He told me to stop looking. Immediately.”

“Why?”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “If I knew that,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the cramped room around us, “do you think I’d be hiding at a freight station talking to the creepiest man I’ve met since arriving on this planet?

I considered that, watching the way her shoulders tensed. “Possibly.”

She stared at me, then made a sound halfway between a scoff and a groan, rubbing her temples with both hands.

I returned my attention to her bag.

No hidden compartments. No transmitted data. No evidence that she had removed anything at all.

The information in her mission file was becoming less reliable with every question.

A vibration struck against my ribs.

Secure channel.

I did not need to open it to know what it contained.

I turned slightly away from her and activated the message.

SUBJECT CONFIRMED?

I entered:

CONFIRMED.

The response came immediately.

CLASSIFIED MATERIAL RECOVERED?

NEGATIVE.

Three seconds passed.

Then:

SECONDARY DISSEMINATION CANNOT BE EXCLUDED.

I already knew that.

Another line appeared.

TERMINATION AUTHORIZED.

My gaze remained on the words.