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A soft chime interrupted me from someone's datapad. Koda checked his device, his expression changing subtly before he schooled it back to diplomatic neutrality. The same pattern I'd seen in Geneva before everything went wrong.

My heart rate picked up, but I kept my voice steady as I continued my point. Across the table, Goernx's eyes met mine briefly. He'd noticed too.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of diplomatic maneuvering and barely concealed tensions. During the lunch break, I retreated to my office, needing time to think. I pulled up the morning's transcript on my holodisplay, searching for patterns.

A knock at my door made me jump. "Come in?"

Martinez entered, holding a datapad. "Delegate Belk, I wanted to discuss your proposal about the neural integration frameworks."

Something about his stance made me uneasy. I gestured to a chair while surreptitiously activating my office's security recordings. "Of course. Which aspect particularly interested you?"

As he launched into a series of technical questions, I noticed his eyes kept darting to my holodisplay. Was he trying to see what I was working on? I casually reached over and minimized the transcript.

"Actually," I said, cutting off his rather circular argument, "I should get ready for the afternoon session. But we can continue this discussion later?"

After he left, I sat back in my chair, my mind racing. Something was definitely off, but what? I pulled out my notebook, flipping through recent observations. A pattern emerged with subtle changes in behavior, unexpected alliances, careful positioning of certain delegates.

My datapad chimed with an incoming message. Unknown sender, but the encryption pattern looked familiar. When I opened it, my blood ran cold:

*GENEVA PROTOCOL ACTIVE - NEXUS PRIME

HISTORY REPEATS

WATCH THE SHADOWS*

The message vanished as soon as I read it, leaving no trace in my system. I sat there, staring at the blank screen, my hands shaking slightly. The Geneva Protocol? They classified that information. How did someone know about it?

I looked up through my office windows at the bustling diplomatic headquarters. Somewhere in this building, someone was orchestrating something potentially devastating. And somehow, Goernx knew, or at least suspected.

The afternoon session was starting soon. I stood, straightening my jacket and checking my reflection. The diplomat in the mirror looked composed and professional, giving no hint of the turmoil beneath.

. After the session, I would confront Goernx. No more cryptic warnings or vague hints. If he knew something about a potential repeat of Geneva, he needed to tell me.

CHAPTER FOUR

Goernx

I crouched in the shadows of the abandoned commerce district, my cybernetic systems running in stealth mode. The dilapidated storefronts and crumbling infrastructure provided perfect cover for clandestine meetings and perfect ambush points. My contact was already twenty-three seconds late.

A flicker of movement caught my enhanced vision. Three levels up, western quadrant. I tracked the motion while maintaining my position, processing the signature. Not my contact. The heat pattern suggested a human, not a cyborg, and someone was moving with too much skill for it to be casual.

We were being watched.

I activated my subvocal comm link. "Meeting compromised. Switch to alternate location beta."

No response. Not unexpected, but concerning. I began calculating exit vectors, my combat subroutines spinning up in the background. The afternoon's diplomatic session had left me with more questions than answers, and now these complications .

A sudden burst of encrypted data hit my neural network. Origin point: directly above. I processed it instantly.

GENEVA WASN'T THE END. IT WAS THE BEGINNING.

The data packet disappeared as quickly as it arrived, leaving behind a familiar digital signature. My processors kicked into overdrive, cross-referencing the pattern against my archived files. The match hit like a physical blow: it was identical to transmissions recorded during the Geneva Collapse.

Movement again, this time multiple signatures. They were closing in. I had nineteen seconds before their converging paths would trap me in this position.

I initiated emergency protocols, my cybernetic enhancements flooding my system with combat optimizations. As I moved, my mind was already processing the implications of the message. Geneva. Always back to Geneva. Back to where Clover lost everything and where this whole conspiracy might have started.

The thought of Clover sent an unexpected surge through my emotional processors. Earlier today, watching her navigate the diplomatic minefield with Syntax-7, I'd admired more than just her professional skills. There was something about her that defied my usual analytical approach.