The Resistance base smelled of rust, antiseptic, and burnt ozone. The storm had passed, leaving the metal corridors slick and trembling with leftover thunder. Ethan walked them in silence, every step echoing with the memory of what they’d left behind beneath the sea.
Maya lay in the infirmary, hooked to a dozen monitors that blinked steady green pulses. Dr. Myles sat beside her bed, scribbling notes on a tablet while Dr. Taylor stood at the observation glass, watching the dawn push faint light through the high windows.
“She’s stabilizing,” Myles said quietly. “Her vitals have evened out — though her neural activity is... unusual.”
Taylor turned, brow furrowed. “Unusual how?”
“Patterns like we’ve never seen,” Myles replied. “Her brain is firing in harmonic waves — almost as if she’s syn
