TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 13:22
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Rest Point 2 / Service Yard Prefab Office)
The prefab office smelled like stale coffee, plastic insulation, and fear trying to pretend it wasn't fear.
Dallon Frey sat in a folding chair that didn't fit his posture. He wasn't cuffed—Vantrell was still pretending this was "internal discipline"—but two security men stood behind him with the quiet stance of people who could turn professional in a heartbeat. Frey's hands were clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His eyes kept flicking toward the door, then back down, then toward the wall like he was searching for a place to hide inside his own skull.
Chief Hess stood with his back to the office window, arms crossed, expression carved from impatience.
Kel stood closer than anyone else.
Not looming. Not threatening. Just near enough that Frey could feel him the way you felt a large machine idle—present, controlled, inevitable.
Mara stayed by the small table with her tablet and an adapter cable. She didn't sit. She didn't pace. She watched Frey like he was a line of code waiting to break.
Kel's voice was calm when he finally spoke. "You sent a burst."
Frey swallowed. "I—I don't know what you mean."
Kel didn't react. He didn't argue the denial. He just let silence stretch long enough to make Frey hear his own heartbeat.
Mara tapped her screen once. "Waveform signature," she said, tone professional. "Directional. Originating from your terminal. Timestamp thirteen-thirty-six."
Frey's mouth opened and closed. "That—that could be anyone—"
Kel interrupted gently. "No."
One word. No anger in it. No insult. Just a flat correction.
Frey's eyes lifted to Kel's face and found nothing to push against—no visible rage, no shaky desperation. It was like trying to argue with gravity.
Hess stepped forward, irritation cracking through. "You're a route controller. You don't send unregistered bursts. Who are you talking to?"
Frey shook his head too fast. "I'm not—"
Kel's gaze stayed steady. "Dallon. Listen."
Frey flinched at his name.
Kel continued, still calm. "You have two choices. You tell us where the receiver is, and you walk away alive. Or you keep lying, and Hess will make this a company matter. And Vantrell won't be gentle."
Hess's jaw tightened, but he didn't contradict it.
Frey's breathing turned shallow. His eyes darted to Mara—then away—like he was afraid she could see inside him.
Mara's stylus hovered. "You're not the buyer," she said, voice flat. "You're the leak. That means someone paid you, threatened you, or promised you something you don't deserve."
Frey swallowed hard. "I didn't—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. "It was… it was just timing."
Kel nodded once, as if that admission was a door opening. "Why label it 'package window'?"
Frey's gaze dropped to his hands. "That wasn't my label."
Kel's eyes narrowed slightly. "Whose."
Frey's lips trembled. He licked them once like the air was too dry. "A man. A contractor. He said he was… doing a risk assessment for Vantrell. He had a badge. It looked real."
Hess's face darkened. "We didn't hire any outside—"
Mara cut in, calm. "Describe him."
Frey's eyes squeezed shut briefly. "Tall. Clean. Not from here. Dark coat. Spoke like… like he was used to being listened to."
Kel didn't move. "Name."
Frey shook his head. "He didn't give—he called himself Mr. Coda."
Mara's stylus paused for a fraction of a second, then resumed.
Kel watched Frey's hands. "Where's the receiver."
Frey's shoulders rose and fell with a weak breath. "It's not… it's not far. He said it needed line-of-sight. He gave me a location in the yard. A maintenance shed. The one by the east fuel pumps."
Hess swore under his breath, finally. "He used our own yard."
Kel's voice stayed level. "You're going to walk us there."
Frey snapped his head up. "What? No—if he sees me—"
Kel's tone didn't change, but the weight of it did. "He won't see you. You'll point. Then you'll step away."
Frey hesitated.
Kel leaned slightly closer—not into his space, just enough that Frey could feel the certainty like a pressure change. "Dallon. This is how you survive it."
Frey's eyes searched Kel's face, desperate for any hint of cruelty he could justify resisting.
He found none.
He nodded once, small and shaking. "Okay."
Mara slipped a small receiver tracker module into her palm—thin, matte, cheap-looking, deadly in the right hands. "If it transmits again," she said quietly to Kel, "I can trace it more precisely."
Kel nodded once. "We'll give it a reason to."
Hess stared at him. "You want to bait it."
Kel's reply was calm. "Controlled."
---
TSD: 3049-10-04 — Local: 13:41
Galatea, Galatea System — Continental Route 7 (Service Yard East Fuel Pumps / Maintenance Shed Row)
The yard looked ordinary in the way that meant it was dangerous.
Fuel pumps. Concrete lanes. Prefab sheds in a row, each labeled with serial numbers and equipment inventories. A few Vantrell workers moving between tasks with bored faces. Security vehicles posted at corners like ornaments meant to reassure rather than stop anyone competent.
Kel walked with Hess, Mara, and Frey.
Frey kept his head down. Hess kept one hand near his sidearm. Mara kept her tablet hugged close, eyes flicking between the physical world and the map overlays on her screen.
Kel kept his hands loose at his sides.
He didn't scan nervously. He didn't flinch at shadows. He simply noticed everything—angles, sight lines, blind spots, paths a person could take if they ran.
They reached the maintenance shed row.
Frey's steps slowed.
"There," he whispered, barely audible. "Third shed. Left side. Under the conduit box."
Kel didn't look at it immediately. He looked around first—workers, security positions, line-of-sight from nearby structures, the route a runner would take.
Then he looked.
A conduit box sat on the shed wall. It looked like any other—until you noticed it was newer than the others, paint too clean, bolts too fresh. A small cable ran into it that didn't match the yard's wiring pattern.
Mara's eyes sharpened. "That's not Vantrell hardware."
Hess muttered, "Someone installed it in my yard."
Kel spoke softly, not to Frey this time, but to Hess. "Get your men to quietly clear this lane. No sirens. No shouting. Make it look like routine yard control."
Hess's jaw worked. Then he nodded sharply and moved off to issue orders in a low voice.
Kel turned to Frey. "Step back. Now."
Frey did, relief and terror mixing in his expression.
Mara moved closer, careful, and crouched by the conduit box. Her fingers were precise, almost gentle. She popped the casing with a small tool from her pocket—something she'd brought because she always brought the right thing.
Inside was a compact receiver unit—cheap casing, high-quality internals. A directional antenna. A power tap spliced into the shed's line.
Mara's voice went flat. "This is professional."
Kel's tone stayed calm. "Can you pull data?"
Mara nodded once. "If it stored anything. Maybe. Give me a minute."
She connected her module, hands steady.
Kel didn't hover over her shoulder. He watched the yard.
Sienna's Valkyrie was still out on the ridge line, a sensor ghost in the distance. Tessa was back with the Zeus and the convoy, keeping the machine stable. Elin remained with the med vehicle, ready for the moment violence decided to return.
Kel had moved pieces into place.
Now he waited for the other side to make its next move.
Mara's tablet chimed softly.
"Log fragments," she murmured. "Not much. But—" Her eyes narrowed. "It pinged… multiple times. Not just today."
Kel's gaze sharpened. "Meaning they've used this yard before."
"Yes," Mara said. "This is a standing receiver. Whoever 'Mr. Coda' is, he doesn't improvise."
Hess returned, face tight. "Lane's cleared. Quietly."
Kel nodded once. "Good."
Mara glanced up, eyes sharp. "We can't trace the sender without a live burst."
Kel said, calmly, "Then we invite one."
Hess frowned. "How."
Kel looked at the conduit box, then at Mara. "Can you transmit through it."
Mara hesitated. "Maybe. If I spoof the handshake and send a 'window confirmed' update."
Kel nodded. "Do it. But we change the message."
Mara's fingers hovered. "To what."
Kel's voice stayed even. "To a meeting."
Hess stared. "That's insane."
Kel looked at him, calm enough to make the word insane feel childish. "It's bait. Controlled. We set the time, the place, the security arc. We don't move the convoy. We don't expose civilians. We catch whoever comes to check their receiver."
Mara's gaze flicked to Kel's face—approval, tension, respect. She didn't speak it. She just nodded once and started typing.
Kel kept watch.
The world didn't change immediately. It rarely did. Predators didn't sprint into traps.
But Kel had been in enough fights—real ones—to know: if you touched a system like this, something always twitched.
Mara's tablet chimed again.
"Ack received," she said quietly.
Kel's eyes narrowed. "Time."
Mara read the response. "Fifteen minutes. Same location."
Hess's mouth tightened. "They're coming."
Kel nodded once. "Good."
He keyed his comms. "Sienna. Hold your ridge. Watch this yard. Don't engage unless I give it."
Sienna's voice came back instantly, unusually serious. "Copy. Eyes on."
Kel keyed again. "Elin. Stand by. No movement unless called."
Elin: "Copy."
Kel didn't call Tessa. He didn't need to. The Zeus staying stable was already her war.
He looked at Hess. "Your men stay hidden. No heroics. We take them alive if possible."
Hess scoffed. "Alive?"
Kel's gaze stayed steady. "Alive gives answers."
Hess held his eyes, then nodded with reluctant respect.
They set positions.
Mara stepped back from the conduit box and stood beside Kel, tablet clutched close. She didn't look at him. She looked at the lane, breathing shallow. Not fear exactly—focus with a tremor under it.
Kel didn't touch her. Didn't crowd her.
He just stood there, calm, letting his presence be something solid beside her.
Fifteen minutes passed like a held breath.
Then a yard worker truck rolled into the lane.
Ordinary. Slow. Unthreatening.
It stopped near the sheds.
A man got out.
Dark coat. Clean boots that didn't belong in a fuel yard. No visible tools. No visible weapon.
He walked like he expected the world to make room for him.
Kel watched him approach the conduit box.
The man crouched, popped the casing with practiced hands—
—and froze when he saw the splice module Mara had installed.
He didn't panic. He didn't swear.
He simply stood, straightening slowly, and looked down the lane.
His eyes found Kel.
Even from a distance, Kel could see the recognition: not of a person, but of a problem.
The man's mouth moved as if he were speaking—maybe into a mic.
Mara's tablet chirped.
"Outgoing burst," she whispered. "Short. Encrypting—"
Kel's voice stayed calm. "Trace it."
Mara's fingers flew.
Hess's security men shifted subtly in their hiding places.
The man in the dark coat didn't run.
He smiled.
Then he took a single step backward like a dancer leaving a stage.
Kel's instincts tightened—but he didn't move impulsively. He didn't charge.
He waited for the tell.
A second vehicle—another "worker truck"—appeared at the far end of the lane, moving in faster than it should.
Kel's voice snapped once, calm but absolute. "Hess—block it. Now."
Hess barked orders, and a security APC rolled out to cut the lane.
The second truck swerved—too tight, too fast.
Not a worker.
A grab team.
The man in the dark coat turned and walked away as if he'd never been there, slipping behind a shed line.
Kel keyed comms. "Sienna. Target in dark coat moving west shed line. Track only."
Sienna: "Copy. Tracking."
Mara's voice tightened. "I have a trace—partial. The burst bounced to a mobile relay. It's on-site."
Kel's eyes cut to the "worker" truck that had tried to force the lane.
It wasn't here for the receiver.
It was here for distraction.
Kel moved—finally—one smooth step forward, posture still relaxed, voice still even.
"Hess," he said. "They're here for the package."
Hess's eyes widened. "Which package?"
Kel didn't answer yet.
Because the answer was forming in the shape of their tactics:
Not random raiders. Not simple theft.
A professional net tightening around a convoy that had just been labeled package window confirmed.
Kel's calm remained intact.
But the next move wasn't going to be paperwork.
It was going to be force.