The following morning, Maya awoke to the sound of her door opening. She blinked away sleep to see Director Franklin Oakes of the Federal Analysis Bureau entering her hospital room, his normally stern expression softened by what appeared to be genuine concern.
"Dr. Chen," he said, approaching her bed with measured steps. "How are you feeling?"
Maya reached for the tablet on her bedside table—her primary communication tool when interpreters weren't present. Her hands still trembled slightly from the aftereffects of Verne's sonic weapon.
"Better than yesterday," she typed. "Is James alright?"
Oakes nodded. "Agent Harlow is recovering well. The doctors say his hyperacusis was temporarily amplified by the sonic blast, but the effects are diminishing."
Maya noticed the shift in title—"Agent
