Page 12 of Broken Sentinel

"Everything all right?" Trent calls from the other side of the screen.

"Fine," I lie, quickly pressing a sanitization cloth to my nose. "Just tired."

By the time I emerge, I've stopped the bleeding and disposed of the evidence. Trent is already dressed, his Sentinel uniform making him look once again like the perfect Unity soldier—controlled, disciplined, untouchable.

Except I've touched his mind now. I know better.

"We should talk," he says quietly, eyes scanning the chamber for monitoring devices.

"Not here." I tap my wrist communicator twice, Sentinel shorthand for "under observation."

He nods once. "Nutrition center, then training simulation?"

Standard post-sync routine, nothing that would raise suspicions. "Sounds like a plan."

We exit the synchronization chamber side by side, carefully maintaining professional distance. But something has fundamentally changed between us, a shift as profound as the one that created the world we now inhabit.

I catch our reflection in a polished wall panel as we walk, two perfect Sentinels in perfect Unity uniform, the picture of order and control. Nothing to suggest the chaos beneath the surface.

The irony isn't lost on me. We live in a world created by humanity's failure to adapt quickly enough to environmental collapse. When the climate tipping points finally toppled in the 2030s and the Cascade Fever of 2038 decimated global populations, our ancestors had two choices: adapt to a changed planet or create controlled environments where change could be prevented.

Unity chose the latter, building sealed arcologies where every variable could be monitored and managed. The Splinters chose the former, embracing genetic modification to survive in the wasteland Unity abandoned.

Two approaches to the same existential threat.

Two visions of what humanity should become.

And now here I am, a loyal Unity Sentinel with something very non-standard happening to my body and mind. Something that feels suspiciously like change in a system designed to prevent it at all costs.

The nosebleed may have stopped, but the warning it represents lingers. Something is happening to me, something connected to the strange reactions during enhancement, something that created that unprecedented neural alignment with Trent.

As we walk through Central Arcology's perfectly regulated corridors toward the nutrition center, I wonder whichpath I'm on now. Unity's carefully controlled stability or the Splinters' unpredictable adaptation?

And I wonder if Trent—rule-following, protocol-obsessed, perfect Sentinel Trent—will follow me there.

CHAPTER 4

Unity loves a good ceremony.Nothing makes bureaucrats happier than standing around in formal uniforms, congratulating themselves on maintaining perfect order in an imperfect world.

Unfortunately, this particular ceremony requires my attendance.

"Stop fidgeting," Trent murmurs beside me, his eyes fixed forward as Unity's elite gather in Central Arcology's Grand Assembly Hall. "You look like you're planning an escape."

"I am mentally plotting at least three," I whisper back. "Want to hear the one involving the ventilation system and two stolen hydroponic suits?"

The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth is his version of uproarious laughter. "Save it for when Commander Reed starts his 'unwavering duty' speech. I might take you up on it."

It's been three days since our neural synchronization, and we've settled into a strange new normal, professional on the surface with an undercurrent of awareness neither of us acknowledges directly. The memory of that perfect alignment hovers between us like an unspoken promise.

Or threat, depending on how you look at it.

The Assembly Hall gleams with Unity's trademark white-on-silver aesthetic, illuminated by artificial sunlight streaming through the vaulted ceiling panels. Gathered across the polished floor are Unity's highest-ranking officials and their most effective enforcers, the Sentinel teams responsible for maintaining security both inside and outside the arcology walls.

We stand in formation with the other elite teams, a sea of gray uniforms arranged in perfect rows. I scan the gathered dignitaries on the raised platform—Chief Administrator Keller, head of the entire Unity government; Security Director Voss, commander of all Sentinel operations; and various department heads whose names and faces blur together in their uniform perfectness.

History lessons taught us that before the Great Division, governments were chaotic systems of competing interests and messy compromises. Unity fixed that by designing a streamlined, efficient leadership structure where every decision serves the ultimate goal: human survival in controlled environments, untainted by the genetic modifications embraced by the Splinters.

At least, that's what they tell us. I'm starting to have my doubts.

---