Chapter 57: Turbulence

The low hum of the jet's engines was the only sound filling the cabin for several minutes. Elira leaned back in her seat, eyes trained on the clouds cutting past the viewport, hands still tingling from the last override command she'd used against Makel.

Fenrir sat beside her—calm, but with an alertness under his skin. Like something coiled had only recently returned to stillness.

Across from them, Vranos tilted his head, eyes locked on Elira with their usual pointed amusement.

"So," he began casually, "you planning to tell us what the hell that was? What Rian Tellar had to do with all this? And what's this talk about the Purpose Core?"

Elira didn't move.

"Rebels. Hidden operations. Secret shutdowns. Don't play dumb, Elira. You've been sitting on pieces of this game for too long."

"I don't owe you answers, Vranos," she replied without turning.

"You do if we're flying straight back into a nest with traitors, infected husks, and puppet strings dangling from every ceiling," Vranos shot back, his voice rising just a notch.

Fenrir sat up straighter. Brakka glanced up from his corner, quiet.

Elira's HUD flickered with an incoming message.

[From: SCIENTIST]"Do not mention me. Do not mention the mission. But you may give Vranos the omitted truth. Keep the core's secrets locked."

Elira exhaled. "Fine. Rian stole the Purpose Core. Years ago. Delivered it to the rebels. After his death, they tried the same trick again—see how deep they could infiltrate Virex. That's what this entire op was. A repeat."

Brakka stirred. His usually impassive face twitched—just slightly—at the mention of the Purpose Core.

"Do the rebels have it now?" Brakka asked quietly.

"No," Elira said. "They have a fake."

Vranos scoffed. "Of course they do. And what even is the Purpose Core?"

Before Elira could answer, Brakka's voice cut in—flat, cold.

"None of your business."

Vranos turned sharply, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"You're not cleared," Brakka said, barely looking up. "You've been getting enough charity."

"I'm getting stonewalled while half the team's operating with blacked-out data feeds. And you think I'll just nod along?"

"You're the soldier," Brakka said. "Not the architect."

"Soldier, huh?" Vranos barked a laugh. "And what does that make you? The janitor?"

"Better a janitor than a bat sniffing after intel above his rank."

Vranos surged forward in his seat. "Say that again."

Before Brakka could reply, the jet's intercom hissed to life with a voice like polished iron.

"Enough."

Dray.

"Drop the topic of the Core. All of you."

A tense silence followed. Vranos leaned back in his seat, muscles taut and jaw ticking.

Elira looked at him. For a moment, her annoyance flickered into something softer. Pity. He was the one with the least information. Still marching forward in the dark, still being used.

He caught her stare and smirked.

"What's that look?" Vranos said. "If you're feeling warm for me, Elira, you could've just joined us in the back during the blackout."

Before she could move, Fenrir lunged.

The punch was brutal and fast, knocking Vranos into the wall. Vranos was up in a second, returning a strike that knocked Fenrir sideways. The two collided, fists and elbows crashing like hammers against the steel hull. The jet shook, artificial balance systems faltering from the sudden violence.

"Stop!" Elira shouted, trying to pull Fenrir back. Brakka stood, ready to intervene, when the cabin lights snapped red.

"Powered systems disengaging."

Dray's voice again, colder now.

"Both of you: power down. Now."

Fenrir froze, then disengaged. Vranos stepped back, breathing hard, lip bleeding.

Elira turned to the console, taking over the controls manually as the autopilot flickered uncertain.

"Make it back fast," Dray said.

The line went dead.

In the silence that followed, only the engine's hum returned.