Page 76 of The Honeymoon Hack
The temperature drop hit me immediately—stupid choice with the T-shirt, Brie—but my technical soul practically melted.
This wasn’t just a server room. It was a cathedral of computing power.
Columns of server rows stretched before us in a grid pattern, each rack enclosed in polished housings with transparent front panels that revealed blinking status lights within. The overhead cable management was pure art—fiber optic lines, power cables, and network connections running in perfect parallel lines across a suspended grid system, everything color-coded and neatly bundled.
The hum was softer than I’d expected. Will had told me about the water cooling, but experiencing it was a different thing altogether. Musical, almost. Loud enough that I’d need to raise my voice, but nothing like the roar of traditional server rooms.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Claire’s face lit up.
Whatever else she was—spy, informant, security specialist—she genuinely loved the technical side. That smile had been genuine.
Don’t let your guard down, Brie. You’re here for a reason.
I walked between the first two rows, absorbing every detail I could. Each server cabinet had its own climate monitoring display, showing real-time temperature and power consumption. The surveillance domes mounted in the ceiling were almost invisible, but definitely there.
“This is incredible,” I said, running my fingers along one of the rack doors. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“The access systems aren’t as awe-inspiring, but they’re pretty elegant.” Claire led me deeper into the facility, navigating between towering server rows stretching in either direction.
At either end of each row, signs displayed row numbers. The aisles were wide enough for maintenance carts but narrow enough that the tall server racks felt imposing, their status lights creating constellations of blue and green dots stretching into the distance.
I tracked the numbers as we walked. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Meridian was in fifty-seven.
“Here’s how we manage individual servers when remote access isn’t enough.” She gestured to a slim panel at the end of a server rack. “KVM drawers—keyboard, video, mouse. There’s one at each end of every row, providing access to the servers on that side.”
Wait. Where was our tech escort? Did she really not need one?
She slid the drawer out on precision rails, revealing a compact workstation built into the rack itself. As though a laptop had been hidden inside the tall rack of servers, the KVM opened to reveal a monitor, keyboard, and trackpad.
“Badge scanner’s right here.” She indicated a small panel embedded next to the keyboard. “Green badges like yours will get a rejection screen. Yellow or higher gets you in.”
Claire tapped her badge. The screen presented a selection interface that asked for the rack and server numbers. Then, a Windows login.
“Most people assume everything down here runs Linux,” she said, opening a command prompt. “But we’ve got a mix. Plenty of Windows Server installations, though the majority are Linux or other Unix variants.”
She began navigating through configuration menus, asking me questions as she worked. I answered automatically, my attention divided between Claire’s explanations and the rows of servers stretching behind us.
A chill that had less to do with the cool temperature ran up my arms. My father’s face flashed through my mind—the way he’d looked during our visit last month. He was almost fully gray now.
This is for him. For Scarlett and Emmett. For all of our team members Fenix has attacked.
Deep breath, Brie.
I wrapped my arms around myself and let out a shaky breath. “God, it’s cold in here.”
“Has to be.” Claire didn’t look away from her work. “All this equipment generates massive heat loads. The temperature’s kept around sixty-five degrees.”
“I should have brought a sweater.” I rubbed my arms, the gesture only half-theatrical. “Would it be okay if I ran back to grab one? I can be quick.”
“Sure, as long as you’re fast.” Claire remained focused on the monitor.
“Thanks!”
Before I’d taken two steps, she stopped me. “You’ll need to go back through security, and probationary Bridge staff aren’t supposed to come through section checkpoints alone.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll call the desk, let them know you’re coming back.”
My heart jumped. “Okay.”
Her call was brief. “Yeah, it’s Claire. I’ve got Brie Stone with me—she needs to grab a sweater from her room. Can you let her back through in about ten minutes?” She paused. “Perfect. Thanks.”
