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“Duplicated deceased-warrior records.”

His expression changed—barely, a shift most people wouldn’t have noticed. But I had spent months working beside him, and I saw it. His yellow ŭre brightened beneath his skin for one quick pulse before settling again.

“How many?”

“Four so far.”

“That is not unusual in old archives.”

“The duplicates have different compatibility histories.”

That got his full attention.

He crossed the room and stopped beside me. I turned the screen toward him.

“See?”

His eyes moved over the records slowly.

Nothing dramatic happened. He didn’t curse. Didn’t immediately shut down the system.

But the muscles around his mouth tightened.

I watched him instead of the screen.

“You’ve seen this before.”

His gaze snapped to mine.

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Talia.”

There was something in his voice now.

Not irritation.

Warning.

I hated warnings without explanations.

I had gotten enough of those since leaving Earth.

I folded my arms. “If these records are being used for compatibility research, then they need to be accurate.”

“I know what they are used for.”

“Then you know why this matters.”

Sera’n glanced toward the main doors.

That movement bothered me more than anything else.

He was not a nervous man.

I had never once seen him check a doorway because of something on a screen.