Hawk sat at the central console longer than protocol required.
The displays told him nothing was wrong.
That was the problem.
Solara's regional signatures rolled across the projection in stable bands—ley activity smooth, population movement normal, atmospheric variance unremarkable. No spikes. No warnings. No anomalies worth flagging.
He layered the data anyway.
Two weeks back.
Ten days.
Then six.
The shift wasn't subtle.
Before his arrival, the region carried noise—emotional turbulence, low-grade fluctuations, the kind of messy instability that came with people living close to power. After his arrival, those readings flattened unnaturally. Smoothed out as if something had pressed a palm over the planet's pulse.
False positives.
Not because things had improved.
Because time itself was being misread.
Hawk leaned back slightly, fingers resting against the console edge.
The last six days had been calm.
Calm never lasted.
Behind him—
"Sable."
Hawk's shoulders twitched before he could stop himself. He turned sharply.
"Can you at least knock?"
Sable stood exactly where she hadn't been a moment earlier. No apology. No reaction. She placed a thin report on the console and sat across from him, posture composed, eyes already waiting.
Hawk exhaled and picked it up.
He skimmed.
Then slowed.
Then frowned.
"You're suggesting…" He turned a page. Then another. Behavioral overlays. Predictive curves. "…social and behavioral therapy for the Balance Keeper?"
Sable nodded once.
"He's new," she said. "Not to existence. To interaction. Consistent social exposure stabilizes him. Isolation increases internal stress."
Hawk read further, jaw tightening.
"The logic is sound," he admitted. "But Central doesn't like this."
He looked up at her.
"They want a weapon."
Sable didn't bristle.
"I don't believe this is a weapon," she replied evenly. "Nor anything resembling Kyros."
She slid an energy profile forward.
"He stabilizes around Rose. Her presence reduces variance. Emotionally speaking, he responds like any human learning boundaries."
Hawk rubbed his jaw.
"I understand why you see that," he said. "But my orders are to secure him so Central has another planetary deterrent."
"And I'm tasked with determining whether that's possible," Sable said. "It isn't."
Hawk's gaze sharpened.
"He would not listen," she continued. "He's a gun that kicks too hard. It would kill the handler before the target."
The bluntness unsettled him more than anger would have.
"Then maybe you're seeing what he wants you to see," Hawk countered. "Not what he is."
Sable didn't argue.
"It's been little time," she said. "Time clarifies. This is now, not then."
The console chimed.
Hawk turned back.
"Sunslope," he muttered. "I'm not seeing anything."
Sable leaned closer, eyes narrowing as she peeled back deeper layers.
"Yes," she said slowly. "There's nothing."
Hawk frowned.
"As in… dead?"
She shook her head.
"No. That's what makes it anomalous."
She highlighted the region.
"No fear. No joy. No anger. No distress."
Empty.
Hawk stared at the readout longer than he meant to.
"We need the team," Sable said. "They know this place."
Hawk nodded and activated the intercom.
"Jax. Cassidy. Weaver. My office."
The channel cut. The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Moments later, the door slid open.
Jax entered first, already tense. Weaver followed, thoughtful, threads faintly brushing the walls without intent. Cassidy came last, alert curiosity barely masking concern.
Cassidy spotted Sable and lifted a hand.
"Hey," she said. "What's up?"
Sable turned to them.
"We have an unknown," she said. "It requires your attention."
They gathered around the console.
Jax's eyes widened.
"Sunslope," he said. "Zero emotional response."
Hawk crossed his arms.
"What does that mean?" he asked. "Does it happen often?"
Jax shook his head.
"No. Never."
He glanced to Weaver and Cassidy.
"It's close. Did anything feel off the last time you were there?"
Cassidy searched memory.
"No," she said. "It was… normal."
She hesitated.
"Could Khelos have destabilized it?"
Sable shook her head gently.
"No residual interference. The new frequency would have flagged it."
Weaver folded his arms.
"The only way to know," he said, "is to go."
Hawk straightened.
"Not until the Balance Keeper is mobile," he said. "For research purposes."
The room tightened.
"He is not your testing ground," Weaver snapped. "And those people are not an experiment."
Hawk's voice hardened.
"You've all seen King Vex's orders. Accept them—or this becomes treason."
Jax met his stare.
"Central never understands variables," he said. "Your reports paint peace where there isn't any. You're protecting yourself."
Hawk stood.
"That's a dangerous accusation."
The air shifted.
Sable rose.
She didn't raise her voice.
"Enough."
The word carried weight it shouldn't have.
"When Allium is recovered," she said, "he will accompany you to Sunslope."
She turned to Hawk.
"You've claimed your presence stabilized this region," she continued. "The data shows it relaxed on its own. An unknown has appeared—and you were already uncertain."
Silence followed.
"Orders are orders," Sable finished. "Follow them."
No one argued.
Jax turned away first.
Weaver followed.
Cassidy lingered just long enough to glance back.
"Can't wait until Jax is back in that chair," she said.
Then she left.
Only Hawk and Sable remained.
Hawk stared at her.
"Who gave you clearance to see my reports?" he demanded.
Sable gathered her papers.
She didn't answer.
She walked out.
Hawk sat alone with the console.
With empty signals.
With the growing realization that something on Fusion wasn't dead—
It was missing.