Brael P.O.V
The comm log told me before anyone had the nerve to.
I read it standing, the way I read most things that mattered, because sitting down for bad news had always struck me as a kind of surrender.
Sector Nine, forty-eight-hour mandatory check-in, issued two mornings past.
No response. No automated pulse. No coded silence that meant she was busy and would explain it later. Just an empty line where six years of discipline should have been.
I checked the timestamp twice. Dawn had a way of making a man doubt his own arithmetic, and I wanted to be certain before I let myself feel anything about it.
'Kade.'
My duty officer looked up from the board without straightening, which was one of the reasons I kept him close. Kade didn't waste motion pretending to be surprised by things.
