Page 27 of Broken Sentinel

"Hello, little one. I'm Lyra. How are you feeling today?"

Eden's eyes dart to me, then back to the woman. "Better. She helped me."

Lyra follows Eden's gaze to me, a new curiosity in her expression. "Did she? That's good to hear."

The man remains by the door, his posture that of a guard rather than a visitor. His continued scrutiny makes my skin prickle with awareness—not fear exactly, but recognition of another predator in the room.

"Transport's arranged," Kaplan tells Lyra. "Two days, southern access point. Medical team will be waiting on the other side."

"Good." Lyra turns back to Eden. "You'll be going home soon, little one. Back to your people."

Eden nods solemnly. "I told them what I saw. But I didn't find who I was looking for."

"It's alright," Lyra soothes. "You've helped more than you know."

As they discuss Eden's care and transport plans, I listen carefully while pretending to organize medical supplies. They're smuggling her back out, not just hiding her, but actively returning her to the Splinter community she came from. The level of organization required for such an operation speaks to something much larger than a few sympathetic maintenance workers.

"The new orders came through," the man says quietly to Kaplan. "All Sentinels on high alert starting tomorrow. Something big is happening."

Kaplan frowns. "Will that affect the transport?"

"Shouldn't. They're focused on the eastern sectors." The man glances at me. "Your helper should return to her regular duties tomorrow. Fewer complications."

I pretend not to hear, continuing my inventory of supplies while processing this new information. High alert for Sentinels means a major operation is planned, possiblyconnected to the increased Splinter infiltration attempts Marlow mentioned.

The timing feels significant. Eden's presence here, the sympathizer network's activities, my own emerging anomalies, all converging now.

"I'll finish the shift today," I offer. "Let Lyra get some rest before transport preparations."

The woman gives me a grateful nod, but the man's eyes narrow slightly. "Awful eager to help for someone who just discovered all this today."

I meet his gaze steadily. "I have my reasons."

"Everyone does," he responds cryptically.

After they leave, with Lyra promising to return in a few hours, it's just me and Eden again. The child watches me with those unsettling amber eyes that seem to see far more than they should.

"He was testing your friend," she says matter-of-factly. "Looking for the mark."

"What mark?"

Eden taps her own wrist. "The one Sentinels have. The one you have."

My heart skips a beat. "You can see that?"

She nods. "It glows, but only a little. Not like your friend's. His burns bright."

Another confirmation of her enhanced perception—she can somehow detect our Sentinel identification chips beneath the skin, chips that should be undetectable without specialized equipment.

"Eden," I say carefully, "when you said I'm like you inside, what exactly did you mean?"

She tilts her head, considering. "The doctors said some of us were born different. Some were made different later. You were made different, but it's been sleeping. Now it's waking up."

"Do you know why? Why now?"

She shrugs one small shoulder. "The older ones said sometimes it just needs the right time. Or the right place." She looks at me intently. "Or you need to be near others like you."

The implication sends a chill through me. If proximity to other modified individuals can trigger dormant adaptations, then my exposure to Splinters during missions might be accelerating whatever changes are happening within me.

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