Erwin lay unconscious in the med bay, wrapped in bandages and monitored by machines. But what he’d brought back—the encrypted drive locked inside a bloodstained pouch—was alive with information. Rashel didn’t sleep; she couldn’t even if she’d tried.
She sat with the Sceptre core team in the east wing’s operations chamber; the room was dimmed and silent except for the whir of fans and soft taps of fingers on keys. Screens illuminated faces taut with tension. One of the younger analysts wiped sweat from her temple as she worked to decrypt the footage Erwin had secured.
“Playback coming,” she said to no one in particular.
A video feed flickered on the main screen.
They watched in silence as the footage revealed exactly what Rashel had feared: rows of marked crates, weapons with Red Circle
