Marien Dask kept her pace brisk, the click of her heels—sharp, even—cutting through the muted hum of the base's early morning corridors.
TAK. TAK. TAK.
The sound echoed off the reinforced composite walls, carrying down the hall ahead of her. She wasn't stomping—Marien didn't stomp—but the rhythm of her steps betrayed the tight coil of irritation she'd been holding since dawn.
Eight years. That's how long she'd been tethered to this place. Eight years without setting foot back in the Dominion. Without the city noise, the old streets, even the smell of rain on real stone instead of recycled ventilation air.
And in those eight years, Kael had given her exactly two "off-limits" days.
Yesterday had been one of them.
