We are not clear. Marcus retreated, but the array still holds the recording, and a recording is a fact, and facts in this house do not stay buried, they get audited, surfaced, weaponized.Damian moves before I have caught my breath, steering me out of the wing by the elbow at a pace that is almost a march, and I understand from the speed of him that the most dangerous ten seconds of the night are not behind us in that white room.They are still ahead, and they are going to happen at a terminal, in silence, with no weapon drawn.“The array logged a Sovereign signature with a timestamp and your exact coordinates,” he says, low, walking me fast through the corridors where the EMP-killed cameras are only now stuttering back to life.“Marcus cannot scan you without my leave, I made that cost too high for him tonight. But he does not need to scan you. He has the log. By morning it is in front of the Board with his name on the discovery, his fingerprints on the proof, and then it is out of my
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