Page 24 of Marked By the Bounty Hunter

The service corridors felt colder than usual. My bare arms prickled as Tyrix and I crept through the shadows, our footsteps near silent on the metal grating. My mind kept drifting back to the storage bay, to Tyrix’s skilled mouth, his reverent touches. Heat bloomed in my belly at the memory.

A patrol passed above, boots striking metal in perfect unison. I pulled back against the wall, Tyrix’s solid warmth at my back.

“New checkpoints ahead,” Tyrix murmured against my ear. His breath stirred my hair, sending shivers down my spine. “They’ve doubled the guard rotations since yesterday.”

“This way.” I led him down a maintenance shaft I’d discovered years ago. The walls pressed close, barely wide enough for Tyrix’s broader frame. “Should bypass the worst of it.”

We emerged into a wider corridor. A security scanner swept the intersection ahead, its red beam painting harsh lines across the floor. I counted the pattern - three seconds on, two seconds off. Simple enough to time our movements between pulses.

“Now.” I darted through during the dark interval, Tyrix right behind me.

And then I heard a sound that shouldn’t have been there. Boots struck metal, coming from both directions.

“Cover your ears.” I darted to a nearby junction box - one of hundreds I’d memorized during my maintenance days. “Sorry about this.”

I yanked two wires loose and crossed them, creating a piercing feedback loop through the station’s ancient comm system. The sound echoed through the corridor.

“Station maintenance,” I called out, making my voice carry. “Sorry about that! System glitch!”

The patrol immediately changed direction, moving to investigate the disturbance. Standard procedure would require them to file a report about system failures - which meant paperwork. No one, not even enemy agents, liked paperwork.

“Nice trick,” Tyrix murmured as we slipped past in the opposite direction.

“Amazing what you remember from fixing things around here,” I grinned.

“Dasari’s shop is just ahead.”

The narrow maintenance corridor opened into Green Section’s marketplace. Vendors called their wares, the scents of a dozen worlds mingling in the recycled air. We threaded through the crowd, keeping our heads down.

“New security protocols in effect,” a voice announced over the station’s comm system. “All residents must present identification at checkpoints. Compliance is mandatory.”

Dasari’s shop occupied a cramped space between two larger storefronts. The sign reading “Data Recovery Services” flickered unevenly. Inside, sophisticated privacy screening hummed, masking any electronic signatures.

“What have you gotten into this time?” Dasari’s sensory filaments vibrated rapidly, the tiny metallic beads woventhrough them chiming discordantly. “Security’s gone mad out there. Three new scanning protocols since morning.”

“We noticed.” I placed the child’s ID bracelet on her workstation. “Need everything you can get from this.”

Multiple screens sprang to life, data streams cascading across them. Dasari’s fingers flew over the interfaces, her filaments clicking faster.

“Standard student ID encryption... wait.” She leaned closer. “Storage capacity is wrong. Far too much for basic identification.”

The main screen flickered as deeper scans ran. Medical terminology scrolled past - neural activity measurements, genetic compatibility scores, something called “resistance potential.”

My stomach turned. These were children’s medical records, detailed analyses of their developing brains and bodies. I thought of Vami’s anguish, multiplied across how many families?

My fingers clenched on the edge of Dasari’s workstation. Behind me, Tyrix shifted closer, his warmth steady at my back.

“More encryption layers,” Dasari muttered. “Military grade. This’ll take time.”

While her systems worked, she pulled up other displays. “Been tracking supply manifests. Medical equipment being routed through maintenance requests. Neural interface components listed as environmental sensors.”

The power fluctuated, screens dimming. Dasari’s filaments went rigid.

“Backup systems engaging.” Her hands moved quickly across the controls. “Three... two... one...”

The screens flared back to life. New data poured across them - coordinates in Blue Section, transfer schedules, security rotation changes.

“That sector.” Tyrix stepped closer. “I found a hidden facility there. Modified classroom with neural monitors built into every desk, medical sensors disguised as standard learning equipment. I’d guess from Dr. Gondon’s research they were measuring neural plasticity in developing minds.”

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