The lights in the holding chamber dimmed, replaced by a sterile blue that cast long shadows behind Elira and Fenrir. They remained sealed in separate cylinders, glass thick enough to absorb a plasma strike.
From above, the voice came again, colder now—no affectation of politeness, no analytical calm. Just steel.
"Elira."
She straightened, jaw tight. "Yes."
"Why is there no feed on Fenrir's awakening?" the Scientist asked. "Where is the Pattern Core integration data? Where is the behavioral response stream? Where is the feedback loop?"
Elira glanced toward Fenrir's cell. He was sitting down now, hands open, his breathing steady.
"We were in blackout," she said, keeping her voice level. "Everything was disabled. Masked."
A pause. Then—
"Don't lie to me."
The words hit like a sonic burst.
"Even under blackout protocols, the data syncs once you return to networked airspace. Don't pretend you don't know that. You want me to believe that while carrying one of the most unstable cores ever constructed, the two of you spent an entire day… what, making love in a jet?"
His voice spat the word like a disease.
Elira flinched, her mouth tightening into a line. "I didn't say that."
"No, but your silence is a confession."
More silence.
Then the Scientist continued, each word like a scalpel.
"I had wondered, you know. Whether the awakening would make you loyal. Whether pairing Purpose with Pattern would stabilize you two. Instead, what I see is a break in discipline, a gap in telemetry, a rogue awakening—of him, not you."
His voice cracked slightly. Not with anger, but disappointment. The worst kind.
"So maybe…" he muttered, almost to himself. "Maybe Dray was right. Maybe it all needs to be erased. Rewritten from the root up. You're unstable. Sentimental. Corrupted by rebels, by each other. The experiment has been disrupted."
"No!" Elira shouted, stepping forward until her palms were against the glass.
The lights flared.
"Listen to me. He awakened without issue. The Pattern Core bonded to him without a system wipe. He didn't lose himself. Not completely. And I brought him back." She pointed to Fenrir. "He's stable now. If we erase everything—we lose all of it. All progress."
A long, heavy silence settled over the chamber. The weight of unsaid things pressed down on them both.
Finally, the Scientist's voice returned—low and disappointed.
"Disrupted. Not ruined… but far from ideal."
A sigh.
"End of transmission."
The lights returned to white, but the glass remained in place. Neither of them moved. Elira's hands stayed on the glass, heart thundering in her chest. Across from her, Fenrir stared back—watchful, alert, and utterly silent.