The elevator ride back up to the pinnacle of Missilis Industry was suffocatingly silent. Arthur Cousland stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the servos in his goddesium arms humming with a frequency that bordered on a growl. Beside him, Rupee checked her makeup in the reflective steel of the doors, but the action was mechanical, devoid of her usual vanity. Her eyes were hard, the kind of flinty determination usually reserved for hostile takeovers or clearance sales, but sharpened now into a weapon intended to draw blood.
They didn't wait for the chime. As soon as the doors slid open to the executive floor, they marched out, boots striking the polished marble like war drums.
Rian was waiting for them. The CEO's personal assistant—a Nikke with sleek tanned skin, pointed ears, and short black hair cut in a severe, professional bob—stood from her desk as they approached. She adjusted her glasses, her expression one of mild, practiced exasperation.
"Commander Cousland. Ms. Rupee," Rian said, stepping into their path with a clipboard held like a shield. Her business suit was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy radiating from the two intruders. "The CEO is currently in a 'Deep Dive Strategy Session' and explicitly requested—"
"Move, Rian," Arthur said. He didn't slow down.
"I cannot permit unauthorized entry," Rian droned, though she didn't physically brace herself. She side-stepped a fraction of an inch to the left, just enough that Arthur's shoulder checked the air beside her rather than knocking her over. "Oh, no. You are too fast. I have failed to intercept. Please, stop."
Her tone was flatter than a heart monitor on a corpse. It was the lackluster resistance of an assistant who wasn't paid enough to wrestle a cyborg commander, or perhaps one who secretly wanted to see what would happen next.
Arthur hit the double doors to Syuen's office with his hand, throwing them open with enough force that they bounced off the interior stops.
"Syuen!"
The shout died in his throat.
The CEO of Missilis Industry, one of the three most powerful individuals in the Ark, was not in a deep strategy session. She was perched on the edge of her massive, floating glass desk, frantically trying to brush crumbs off her lap. In her hand was a half-eaten slice of the dense, alcohol-soaked fruitcake Rupee had sarcastically left behind hours earlier. Her cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk's, and her eyes went wide as saucers.
For a second, the only sound was the panoramic view of the Ark humming outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Syuen choked, swallowed forcefully, and slammed the cake down onto a napkin. "Get out!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "Can't anyone knock in this godforsaken company? Rian! I told you to lock the doors!"
"I tried, Ma'am," Rian called from the hallway, her voice drifting in with utter neutrality. "They were very persistent."
Rupee stormed into the room, tossing her fur-lined coat onto a waiting chair. "Save the indignation for the shareholders, Syuen. We know."
Syuen wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, regaining her composure by sheer force of arrogance. She hopped off the desk, smoothing out her skirt, though a few telltale currants remained stuck to the fabric. "Know what? That I enjoy high-quality confectionary? Get over it. Why are you back? Did the defective trash finally crash? I told you, forty-eight hours."
"We found the mother," Arthur said, stepping forward. His shadow fell over the petite CEO, looming large. "Angelina Miller."
Syuen rolled her eyes, walking around her desk to sit in her oversized chair. She tapped a holographic interface, bringing up a wall of privacy screens. "Good for you. Did you get your tearful reunion? Is the brat sobbing? I really don't care, Commander. Unless you're here to return my property, get out."
"She pays you," Rupee said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. She slammed her hand down on the glass desk, right next to the fruitcake. "Three years, Syuen. Three years of monthly payments. Every credit she earns. For 'Cognitive Maintenance.' For 'Stabilizer Fluid.'"
Syuen blinked. Her hand hovered over her keyboard. "Excuse me?"
"Don't play dumb," Arthur growled. He activated his Omni-Tool, projecting the images of the receipts plastered all over Angelina's apartment wall. The hologram filled the air between them—hundreds of jagged slips of paper, a testament to a mother's desperation. "She's living in a box in Sector Six because she thinks she's paying you to keep her daughter alive. She thinks she's paying for the memory wipes."
Syuen stared at the floating images. Her expression didn't shift to guilt; it shifted to confusion. She squinted at one of the receipts. "Stabilizer fluid? We manufacture that in-house. The cost is negligible. Why would we charge a civilian for..."
She trailed off. Her eyes narrowed. The bratty, petulant facade evaporated, replaced by the razor-sharp intellect that had put her at the head of a megacorporation at a frighteningly young age.
"Project Recall is a Research and Development initiative," Syuen muttered, more to herself than them. "It was funded by the black budget. Subject N102 is a prototype. We don't charge test subjects. We pay them—or we detain them."
"So you admit it," Rupee snapped. "You've been extortion—"
"Shut up!" Syuen hissed. She began typing furiously, her fingers blurring across the haptic keys. "Rian! Get inside here!"
Rian materialized at the door. "Yes, CEO Syuen?"
"Authorize a Level 5 audit on the former Recall and Release division. Specifically, the financial accounts of Dr. Gherman and the oversight committee for the N102 project. Cross-reference with external revenue streams labeled 'Miscellaneous Service Fees'."
Arthur watched as data streams cascaded down Syuen's oversized monitors. The reflection of the red scrolling text danced in her eyes. The confusion on her face was hardening into a terrifying, icy fury.
"Found it," she whispered. The venom in her voice dropped the temperature of the room by ten degrees.
She spun her chair around to face them, pointing a manicured finger at the screen. "These idiots. These absolute, bottom-feeding, microscopic parasites."
"You didn't know?" Arthur asked, skepticism heavy in his tone.
"Of course I didn't know!" Syuen shouted, slamming her small fist onto the armrest. "Do you think I need the pocket change of a Sector Six gutter rat? Missilis Industry creates the gods of this world, Commander! I deal in billions! I don't run a charity, but I don't run a two-bit protection racket! It's beneath me!"
She stood up on her chair to appear taller, trembling with indignation. "They used my seal. They used Missilis official letterhead to scam a woman out of her lunch money? It makes us look cheap!"
Arthur exchanged a glance with Rupee. It was a bizarre twist of morality—Syuen wasn't angry that a woman was being exploited; she was angry that the exploitation was petty and unauthorized. Her ego was bruised because her subordinates were running a hustle she hadn't approved.
"If you didn't authorize it," Arthur said slowly, "then fix it."
Syuen didn't answer him. She pulled a sleek, black handset from under her desk. It wasn't her usual comms device; this one had no screen, only a biometric scanner. She pressed her thumb to it.
"Get me Director Collins in Legal," she barked into the receiver. "And put Perilous Siege on standby."
Rupee's eyes widened. "Perilous Siege?"
"Shut it, shopaholic," Syuen snapped. Then, into the phone: "Collins? It's Syuen. I'm looking at the ledger for Project Recall. Yes. The discrepancy. No, don't give me the variance report, you incompetent hack. I want the entire research team fired. Effective immediately."
She paused, listening to the squawking voice on the other end. A cruel smile twisted her lips.
"Oh, I know they have tenure. I don't care. Breach of contract. Misuse of company assets. Intellectual property theft—make something up if you have to, but I want them gone. And sue them. Seize their assets. I want their bank accounts frozen before they can buy a sandwich at the cafeteria. Take everything. Their houses, their cars, their secret offshore accounts. If they end up begging on the street in the Outer Rim, I might consider it justice."
She slammed the phone down, then picked it up again instantly. "And get me the Rehabilitation Center. I have three new candidates for the mind-wipe program. They seem to enjoy erasing memories for profit; let's see how they like the experience from the other side of the chair."
Arthur watched the display of corporate violence with a mix of awe and horror. Syuen was a tyrant, but directed at the right targets, she was a force of nature.
She hung up the phone with a finality that echoed in the large office. She breathed heavily for a moment, adjusting her red beret, then looked back at Arthur and Rupee. She looked annoyed, like someone who had just stepped in gum.
"There," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "The parasites are being purged. Are you happy?"
"Not yet," Rupee said, crossing her arms. "What about the money? Angelina has been starving herself for three years."
Syuen groaned, flopping back into her chair. "Fine! Rian! Calculate the total sum extorted from Angelina Miller, apply an inflation adjustment, and triple it. Wire it to her account under a 'Settlement and Non-Disclosure Agreement'."
"Tripled?" Rian asked, tapping on her tablet.
"Yes, tripled! And send her a fruit basket. A big one. The expensive kind with the real pears."
"Wait," Arthur interrupted, stepping closer to the desk. "The money isn't the only lie, is it? The doctors told Angelina she was a 'trigger'. They said if Anne saw her, the dissonance would cause a neural collapse. They said she had to stay away to keep Anne alive."
Syuen picked up the remaining piece of fruitcake, inspecting it critically before taking a small bite. She chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed.
"Complete garbage," she said flatly. "N102's instability is inherent to the storage capacity of her NIMPH, not her emotional state. The memory wipes are necessary because her hardware is outdated, not because she loves her mommy too much."
"So..." Rupee's voice wavered. "She can see her?"
"The researchers probably made that up to keep the mother from visiting," Syuen explained, bored. "If the mother visited, she might see the billing discrepancies or ask why the 'cure' wasn't working. Isolating the subject makes the scam easier to maintain. Basic con artist tactics. Frankly, it's embarrassing that Missilis employees were using such primitive methods."
Arthur felt a weight lift off his chest, followed immediately by a new, colder weight. The cruelty of it was staggering. Three years of separation, not for science, not for safety, but for administrative convenience and petty theft.
"So there is no medical risk," Arthur clarified, pinning Syuen with his gaze. "If we bring them together. If Anne sees her mother. Her brain won't melt?"
"Oh, her brain is going to melt anyway in about..." Syuen checked her watch. "Thirty-two hours. But no, the mother won't accelerate it. Emotional stimuli might actually help map the neural pathways better, though the end result is the same. Reset or brick."
"We'll worry about the reset," Arthur said. "But right now, I need written authorization. I want a document stating that Missilis waives all visitation restrictions for Subject N102, effective immediately."
Syuen groaned long and loud, throwing her head back. "You are so tedious! Fine! Rian, draft the waiver. Print it. I'll sign it. Just get them out of my office so I can finish my cake in peace!"
"One more thing," Rupee said, stepping up beside Arthur. She placed her hands on her hips, channeling every ounce of her business acumen. "Angelina is in bad shape, Syuen. Malnutrition, untreated stress fractures, probable respiratory issues from the sector fumes. If this story leaks—that Missilis researchers were starving a mother while using her daughter as a lab rat—your stock dips. I guarantee it. My stream alone could shave four percent off your Q4 projections."
Syuen narrowed her eyes. "Are you threatening me, merchant?"
"I'm negotiating," Rupee smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Full medical coverage for Angelina Miller. Top tier. The same package you give your executives. She gets fixed up, or the Lupins get a very interesting exclusive tonight."
Syuen stared at Rupee for a long, tense moment. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant wail of a siren somewhere in the Ark. Then, Syuen scoffed.
"Fine. Whatever. It's a tax write-off anyway. Rian, add Mrs. Miller to the executive health plan. Retroactive to... I don't know, birth? Just do it."
Rian nodded, the faint ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Consider it done, CEO."
A moment later, the printer in the corner whirred to life. Rian retrieved the document, stamped it with the official Missilis seal, and handed it to Arthur. The paper was still warm.
"Visitation authorized," Rian said softly. "Indefinitely."
Arthur took the paper, folding it carefully and placing it in his breast pocket next to his heart. He looked at Syuen, who was studiously ignoring them, pretending to read a report while sneaking another glance at the fruitcake.
"Syuen," Arthur said.
The CEO looked up, irritation flaring. "What now? Do you want a pony?"
"You did the right thing," Arthur said. "For the wrong reasons. But it counts."
Syuen sneered. "I didn't do it for you. I did it because incompetence offends me. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and have Matis practice target acquisition on your flashy girlfriend."
Arthur nodded once to Rian, then turned and walked out, Rupee right on his heels. As the heavy doors swung shut behind them, he heard Syuen's voice shriek one last time.
"Rian! Where is my coffee? And why does this cake taste like rum? Is everyone in this building trying to poison me?!"
They walked back to the elevator in silence, but the air felt different now. Lighter. The oppressive weight of Sector Six and the cruelty of the lie had been pierced, if not fully lifted.
Once the elevator doors closed, shielding them from the sterility of the Missilis floor, Rupee slumped against the wall, letting out a long, shaky breath. She looked at Arthur, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"We did it," she whispered. "She can see her mom."
Arthur looked at the floor indicator as it began its descent. He thought of Anne, sitting in the Outpost with her notebook, terrified that her memories were a glitch. He thought of Angelina, counting receipts in the dark.
"We cleared the path," Arthur corrected gently, his hand resting on the cool metal of the railing. "But the clock is still ticking. We have thirty-two hours before the reset. We have to make this count."
Rupee reached out and took his hand—his human hand—squeezing it tight. "We will. We're going to give them the best Christmas miracle this city has ever seen. Even if I have to bankrupt Talentum to do it."
Arthur squeezed back. The victory felt fragile, held together by a piece of paper signed by a tyrant, but it was a victory nonetheless.
"Let's go get her," Arthur said. "It's time for a family reunion."
As the elevator plummeted toward the lower levels, Arthur's mind was already racing ahead. The emotional hurdle was cleared, but the medical reality remained. Syuen had been confident—brutally so—that the reset was inevitable. The miracle they needed wasn't in a CEO's office; it was somewhere else, buried in tech they didn't understand or memories they hadn't unlocked.
But for tonight, for Angelina and Anne, the truth would have to be enough.