Page 61 of Duty Compromised
“How long before the system detects the bypass?”
“Ninety seconds to bypass without triggering alerts. But once I do, we’ll have approximately ten minutes before the system notices the irregularity and starts screaming.”
“Then we move fast.”
My fingers flew across the screen, each command exact and necessary. Even under pressure, even with my hands shaking from residual adrenaline, this made sense.
The lock clicked open with a satisfied electronic chirp.
“Nine minutes, forty-seven seconds,” I announced.
We moved through the doorway into the lab proper. The familiar space felt alien in the dark, equipment hulking like sleeping monsters, every surface reflecting our movement in distorted fragments. But turning on lights wasn’t an option.
Ty moved ahead of me, each step careful despite the urgency. His injured body didn’t seem to slow him much—or if it did, he hid it with the same determination that had kept him fighting even when that intruder had come at him. Every doorway received a quick check, every corner a careful approach. He moved like water finding the path of least resistance, and I felt as clumsy as an elephant behind him, every footstep too loud, every movement broadcasting our presence.
My workspace in the janitor’s closet was exactly as I’d left it—organized disorder that made perfect sense to me and probably looked like a tornado’s aftermath to everyone else. Three monitors in a semicircle, each showing different aspects of the stabilizer code. Sticky notes in several colors forming a rainbow of reminders and breakthrough moments. Coffee cups in various stages of scientific interest.
I grabbed the primary tower, fingers finding the release catches without conscious thought. The custom GPU array alone was worth more than most people’s cars, but its real value was the months of optimization I’d done to make it handle the quantum encryption calculations.
“The stabilizer code drive,” I muttered, dropping to my knees to access the secure storage unit under my makeshift desk where we’d locked it after returning to the lab earlier. My fingers trembled as I entered the combination—a sequence based on quantum probability equations that only I would know. The lock clicked open, revealing the small black drive that held everything. “The backup drives are in the server rack?—”
“I’ll get them. Keep packing.”
He disappeared into the darkness while I disconnected cables with quick efficiency. Each piece of equipment got wrapped in the antistatic cloths I kept for transport. My hands moved automatically while my mind raced through contingencies. What if the safe house didn’t have proper power conditioning? What if I needed reference materials that were only on the internal network? What if?—
“Four minutes and fifty-five seconds,” Ty announced, returning with the oscilloscope and frequency generator balanced in his arms. I could see the strain in his face, the way his left arm trembled slightly under the weight.
“You shouldn’t be carrying?—”
“I’m fine. Keep moving.”
My phone buzzed. I almost ignored it—probably Darcy wondering why I wasn’t home yet—but the notification pattern was wrong. This wasn’t a text or call. This was…
“Oh no.” The words escaped before I could stop them.
“What?”
I stared at the screen, watching data flow in real-time. “Someone’s piggybacking on our network connection. This isn’t Vertex security—the signature’s all wrong. Someone else is in the system, and they’re—” My blood turned to ice water. “They’re tracking us through the building.”
Ty’s expression hardened. “Time to go. Now.”
I shoved the last drive into my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. The weight of it—physical and metaphorical—made me stumble. We moved toward the exit, but Ty suddenly stopped, his hand coming up in a sharp gesture to freeze.
He tilted his head, listening to something beyond my perception. Then I heard it too—footsteps, multiple sets, moving with purpose through the building. Not the casual gait of security guards or the tired shuffle of maintenance workers. This was deliberate, coordinated, hunting.
“Back door,” he whispered, already pulling me in the opposite direction. I could see him fighting not to limp, his jaw tight with suppressed pain.
We cut through the adjacent lab, weaving between millions of dollars of equipment that could unravel the mysteries of the universe but couldn’t protect us from whoever was coming. Behind us, a door crashed open, the sound explosive in the quiet building. Voices followed—sharp, urgent, determined, but low enough that I couldn’t tell what they were saying.
“Fuck, we’re trapped,” Ty whispered. “They’re between us and the door.”
“Loading dock,” I gasped, my mental map of the building finally useful for something other than finding the good coffee machine. “There’s an exit through shipping and receiving.”
We ran then—really ran—abandoning any pretense of stealth. My bag bounced against my hip with each step, the equipment inside clanking in what was probably very expensive protest. Behind us, more shouts, closer now, feet pounding through the hallways with the confidence of people who thought they had us trapped.
The loading dock materialized out of the darkness—a vast space filled with shipping containers and pallets of supplies that probably no one had inventoried in years. Ty pulled me behind a stack of boxes just as footsteps pounded into the space behind us.
“Two at the main exit,” he whispered against my ear, his breath coming harder now, pained. “Three coming through the lab. Maybe more in reserve.”
