A New Theory

The med bay had been cleared. The infected neutralized. But Kayla was dead. Five soldiers who'd been zipped in sealed bags had come back to life. And no one—no one—had seen it coming.

Thomas stood at the head of the long table, arms folded, jaw set. His tablet was in front of him, screen dark, unused for now. He wasn't here to read reports.

He was here to ask questions—and he wanted answers.

"Close the door," he ordered.

Phillip, standing near the entrance, did just that.

Around the table sat six personnel. Shadow 6 and Shadow 8—the two who had carried the body bags. Reyes and Garza—the refinery soldiers assigned to catalog and supervise the morgue handoff. Shadow 3, who responded first. And Phillip, who pulled up internal logs and the now-failed sensor data.

"All of you were part of the chain of custody," Thomas began. His voice was calm, but cold. "I want each of you to walk me through exactly what happened."

No one spoke at first.