Page 24

"Fine," I say, injecting warmth into my voice. "Just helping out with a special project. I'll tell you about it later."

He nods once, then turns to leave. Before he reaches the door, the child suddenly speaks again, her voice stronger.

"Wait."

Everyone freezes. The girl slides off the bed, her movements careful and deliberate, and approaches Trent. Kaplan makes a movement to stop her, but I subtly shift to block him, sensing something important unfolding.

The child stands before Trent, looking up at him with those eerie amber eyes. She shouldn't be able to identify him as a Sentinel—we've been meticulous with our cover—yet something about him triggered her recognition.

"You're not like her," she says, glancing back at me before returning her attention to Trent. "But you protect her anyway. Why?"

The question hangs in the air, layered with meanings that stretch far beyond our current mission. I hold my breath, waiting for Trent's response, knowing that whatever he says could either solidify our cover or destroy it completely.

Trent does something that surprises me. He kneels, bringing himself to the child's eye level just as I had done.

"Because that's what people should do," he says simply. "Protect each other. Even when they're different."

The sincerity in his voice strikes me to the core. This isn't part of our cover story; this is Trent—real Trent—speaking a truth I've never heard him articulate before.

The girl studies him for a long moment, then nods as if confirming something to herself. "You don't believe what they taught you anymore."

Trent doesn't answer directly, but something passes between them, an understanding that transcends words. Then he stands, resuming his maintenance worker persona with seamless efficiency.

"I should return to my section," he says to Kaplan. "Manifold pressure needs constant monitoring."

Kaplan seems torn between suspicion and the need for additional allies. "Your partner has volunteered to help with our project here. I assume you understand the need for discretion."

"Of course," Trent responds. "What happens in maintenance stays in maintenance."

After Trent leaves, Kaplan turns to me. "Your bonded has interesting perspectives for someone from Eastern. They tendto be stricter about Unity protocols there and you did say he was by the book.”

"Elias has always had a soft spot for children," I say, which isn't exactly a lie. I've never actually seen Trent interact with a child before today. "Regardless of protocols."

Kaplan accepts this with a nod. "You'll take first watch tonight? I need to arrange the medical transport."

"Happy to help," I agree, hoping this will give me access to more information about the sympathizer network.

Once Kaplan leaves, it's just me and the child in the repurposed purification chamber. She returns to her bed, watching me with those unsettling amber eyes.

"What's your name?" I try again.

After a moment's consideration, she answers. "Eden."

"That's a beautiful name," I say, pulling up a chair near her bed but not too close. "Where are you from, Eden?"

She shrugs one thin shoulder. "Outside."

"The wasteland?" I clarify.

Eden's expression suggests my terminology is amusing. "It's not waste. It's just different. Like you're different inside."

There it is again—that insistence that she sees something in me, something hidden. I decide to take a risk.

"Why do you think I'm different?" I ask quietly.

She tilts her head, considering me. "I can smell it. You have the same patterns, but they're sleeping. Mine are awake."

"Patterns?"