Chapter 29
Brie
Early Sunday afternoon, I closed the final training video. Four days’ worth of modules. Done. I messaged Ken through the internal system: ‘Ready when you are.’
Ken stood from his desk a few rows away and walked over to me. “Let’s go.”
I looked up at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes. “You look tired.”
“Mnemis is fully climate-controlled, but I swear the pressure differential is still off. Anytime a hurricane passes within fifty miles, I can’t sleep.
” He managed a tired smile despite the exhaustion evident in his posture.
“But at least we can get out of here and see the server rooms. First time in there will blow your mind.”
“I’ve been looking forward to it!” I grabbed my ID card from its slot and stood. “Which section are we headed to?”
He glanced at his tablet. “We’re starting in the Atlantic section.”
Yes!
“I have two updates in there, then another in Pacific. It should take us—” His voice dropped. “Aw, shit.”
I followed his gaze.
Claire smiled at us from her workstation. She stood, tossing the small crossbody bag she wore most days across herself. On her way over, she asked, “Where are you two headed?”
“Got some local updates to handle.” Ken straightened. “Brie’s shadowing me—part of her training schedule.”
Claire stopped beside us. “Which updates?”
“Routine configuration changes. Nothing complicated.”
“Where?”
“Atlantic and Pacific.”
Claire held out her hand. “Assign the tickets to me. I’ll handle the updates.”
No.
Ken’s face fell, exhaustion deepening the lines around his eyes. “Is this about me logging Brie in the other day? I was only showing her the interface, and—”
“It’s not about that.” Claire’s tone was calm, but as firm as her reprimand on Friday. “I have more access than you do, so I can show her a few more things.”
Ken’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he nodded. He was clearly pissed about it, but she was our shift lead, so she was the boss. And she did have white-level access, versus his yellow level.
“Thanks, Ken. You can get the next one.” She turned her smile on me. “Ready, Brie?”
Goddammit. “Absolutely.”
The corridors leading to the Atlantic section stretched ahead of us, yellow caution displays at regular intervals—the only indication Hurricane Lorenzo was directly overhead now.
I pulled out my phone and opened the Mnemis app. I needed to warn Will that Claire had taken over for Ken.
“What are you doing?” Claire asked.
“Just checking where Will is, in case we run into him.”
“Ronnie has Will working in Atlantic today,” Claire said matter-of-factly. “If we run into them, please remember this is work time, not social time.”
“Of course.” I slipped my phone into my pocket without sending the message.
How did she know Will’s schedule without checking? It wouldn’t have surprised me if she knew what each member of The Bridge staff was doing, but why would she know the technicians’ schedules?
It was like Ken and the others had said in the gaming room: Claire was monitoring everything, watching everyone.
Malcolm’s warning echoed in my brain: Be careful of Claire.
What was she up to?
At the checkpoint, Claire placed her bag on the X-ray scanner’s belt. “Each section has its own security layer,” she said as I followed suit with my phone and watch. “It’s a lot, but there’s a method to it.”
The guards waved us through the metal detector.
I collected my items from the conveyor, trying to look like someone on a routine training exercise rather than someone searching for a way to commit what was essentially corporate espionage.
“So we go through the main checkpoint to enter the data center, but the hardware techs have to go through another one every time they switch sections?”
“Will didn’t tell you?” Claire donned her bag and gestured toward the corridor leading into the Atlantic section.
“Each checkpoint focuses on different things. The one when you enter Mnemis is for contraband. The one at the data center entrance is for unauthorized electronics—anything that could be used to extract data or compromise systems.”
We passed through another set of reinforced doors, our footsteps echoing in the utilitarian hallway. The walls were lined with conduits and monitoring panels.
“The section checkpoints are more about equipment control,” Claire continued.
“Making sure anything moving in or out should be moving. That’s why all the maintenance alcoves and tool racks are inside the security perimeter—techs load up their crash carts with cables and replacement parts without having to go back through screening every time. ”
It was practically a fortress. “Do you ever think Tremaine Industries doesn’t trust their employees?”
“Can you blame them? We’re protecting data that could destabilize governments or destroy industries…” She shrugged. “The security has to match the stakes. It’s not personal—it’s just reality.”
We reached the server room entrance, where a mantrap waited—a small chamber with doors on either side.
Claire went first, swiping her badge to enter the confined space.
The outer door sealed behind her with a soft click, then the inner door opened after a moment’s pause.
She stepped through, and I followed the same process, my badge granting access to the chamber.
The brief isolation in the mantrap felt oddly ceremonial—as if crossing a threshold into a sacred space.
When the inner door finally opened for me, I stepped inside.
Holy shit.
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.”
She hung up, returning her attention to the server configuration. “You’re all set. They’ll be watching for you.”
Perfect. And terrifying.
It was almost too easy.
I headed toward the entrance and pulled out my phone as soon as I was out of Claire’s line of sight. I typed a quick message to Will: I’m working with Claire in the Atlantic!
The message was a good start. Nothing anyone would blink at in case someone monitored the traffic on the app. But he wouldn’t know I needed him to cut the cameras. Now. Right now!
I followed up with: But it’s cold, so I’m going back to our room for a sweater. Do you have a break soon?
Would that get the point across?
I stared at the screen, waiting for the delivery notification and then for a response. Nothing came back.
Come on, Will. Where are you?
Instead of continuing toward the exit, I doubled back through a parallel corridor between the racks.
If someone were watching, it would look like I’d taken a wrong turn.
The server room was a maze of identical-looking rows, making it easy for someone unfamiliar with the layout to get lost if they didn’t follow the signs.
Near row forty-six, I encountered two hardware techs wheeling a cart loaded with hard drives.
One of them nodded a hello. “You lost?”
“Just trying to find my way around.” If I were Scarlett, I’d be able to charm them or convince them I had no idea what I was doing. But I wasn’t Scarlett. “I’m working with Claire Lawson today.”
Both men’s expressions shifted immediately. The first tech grimaced while the second actually winced.
Had I said something wrong? Or was it about Claire’s reputation?
“Claire, huh?” The first one shook his head. “Good luck with that.”
“She’s… thorough,” the second added diplomatically.
They continued past me, and I heard the first one muttering something about micromanagement as they disappeared around the corner.
Interesting. So it wasn’t just The Bridge staff who thought she was intense. Maybe she wasn’t suspicious of us at all, and that was simply her personality.
I continued toward row fifty-seven. Six days ago, I wouldn’t have believed I’d be capable of this. Going undercover, sneaking around a data center, lying to people? Without laughing?
A few minutes later, I stood in the narrow aisle between towering racks, staring at Meridian’s server.
Fenix’s server.
Surveillance cameras were watching everything. So what could I possibly do?
My phone remained stubbornly silent. No response from Will. No coordination. No backup plan.
How long could I wait?
This is Fenix’s server. It has everything you need.
If I got in and started transmitting data back to the team, getting caught afterward wouldn’t matter. I moved to the end of the row and pulled out the KVM drawer. As it unfolded, the monitor came to life, displaying a simple startup screen: Please scan credentials.
One more check of my phone.
C’mon, Will! Where are you?