Page 19 of Marked By the Bounty Hunter

“Noted. Adjust protocols accordingly. The next phase begins at 0300.”

They moved on, their rhythmic steps fading. I let out a slow breath, then froze as I noticed what surrounded me. The shelves held medical supplies, not cleaning materials - specifically, neural interface components disguised as maintenance equipment.

Something clattered behind a stack of boxes - a hollow sound that shouldn’t be there.

The tablet I found wedged in the wall cavity sparked to life at my touch.

I kept one ear trained on the corridor while scanning the data, a skill honed through years of handling intel in hostile territory.

Standard student health records scrolled past, but underneath... My hands stilled on the screen. Genetic scans. Neural plasticity tests. Empathic sensitivity measurements. Each file bearing Dr. Gondon’s unmistakable mark - her distinctive technical shorthand, her precise way of structuring research parameters, even her preferred notation system.

A sound in the corridor.

I pressed deeper in the shadows as voices approached.

“Transfer schedule modified. Moving subjects from Block C to Research Bay in ten minutes.”

I forced myself to continue reading while I counted seconds. The earliest records were clearly imported from Rosicros Station, bearing Dr. Gondon’s meticulous notes on neural plasticity in developing minds.

Her comments in the margins grew increasingly concerned: “Query: Why are you requesting baseline data on empathic resistance?” And later: “Attention required - these modification requests exceed safety parameters established in original study.”

The records grew darker after that - military terminology replacing medical care, test subjects instead of student names. Dr. Gondon’s final note was terse: “These applications violate every ethical standard we established.”

Then her signature vanished entirely, and the project name changed to “Initiative Myriad.”

The transport pods rolled past my hiding spot just as I reached the final entries. Through their windows, I saw the results of those cold military notations - small forms writhing in containment, purple bioluminescence pulsing beneath their skin. The timing couldn’t be coincidence. They were moving evidence, just like these records someone had tried to hide.

The implications turned my stomach. What had they done to make Dr. Gondon abandon her own research?

“Schedule update,” a voice announced outside my hiding spot. “Block C subjects transferring to Research Bay in ten minutes. Full containment protocols.”

“Acceptable. The K-series modifications are proceeding faster than projected. We need to clear space for the next group.”

I waited in the shadows, counting seconds.

The tablet’s revelations about Initiative Myriad still burned in my mind when the procession began. Through a crack in the door, I watched sealed transport pods being wheeled past. Through their small windows, I noticed small forms... and flashes of purple bioluminescence where none should be.

The guards moving them displayed that same unsettling precision I’d seen in the security team outside of Nalina’s bar.

My claws dug into my palms, drawing blood. These were children. Even a hunter had lines they wouldn’t cross. The memory of Nalina’s fierce protectiveness of her bar patrons rose unbidden. What would she do if she saw this? The thought shouldn’t matter. The mission shouldn’t be changing just because she’d somehow slipped past my defenses. But it was. I was.

Everything connected - the missing children, the modified systems, Dr. Gondon’s disappearance. This went far beyond a simple bounty.

I needed to warn Nalina. The information about the children’s location was too valuable to keep to myself, and the connection to Dr. Gondon changed everything. But rushing back to the bar would draw attention we couldn’t afford.

I knew what to do.

Wait. Observe. Track. But seeing those pods, remembering Nalina describe Vami’s broken voice... something else pushed against that training. Something that had started the moment I saw Nalina create that distraction to help Jevik escape.

I moved through the shadows toward the maintenance shaft that would take me back to the bar levels. Nalina’s shift would be ending soon - I could intercept her on her usual route home. Safer than the bar, where too many eyes watched.

My instincts warred within me - the need to maintain my cover fighting against this new, urgent desire to act. To protect.

To protect Nalina.

These impulses were foreign to me. Hunters worked alone for good reason - attachment was a liability, a weakness that could get you killed. Yet every time I thought of Nalina - her fierce determination, her unflinching courage - somethingshifted inside me. The solitary hunter’s path I’d walked for so long felt suddenly hollow.

The station creaked around me, its bones shifting. Or maybe that was just my world, changing with each new piece of this puzzle. With each moment that pulled me further from the solitary hunter I’d been, toward something I didn’t yet understand.

---