Five #3
Na’ashq’ii clicked from her collar like punctuation.
“And apparently still supervised.”
The door opened and two guards entered with a closed case. They set it on the table and bowed to Det’ae as they retreated.
“We recovered this from the planet’s surface. It was under a larger containment fragment.”
The case opened to reveal a flat black oval the size of Willow’s palm. Its surface shimmered with tiny lights.
Willow’s attention snapped. “Another Scozid data core?”
“We believe it was paired with the transmitter.”
“Oh, goodie. A horrible present with accessories.”
Na’ashq’ii clicked, its plates shuddering.
Renjik moved closer to her. The disk looked wet, but all Scozid tech did to him.
The disk was connected to an isolated reader. “It’s damaged,” the Premiere said, “but we hope there’s recoverable data.”
Fragments of Scozid text scrolled in the projection. He couldn’t read it, but apparently Willow could.
She stood so fast Na’ashq’ii scrambled for balance. “There.”
The scroll stopped and she enlarged a line of text that, with a few taps, resolved into a star chart. A moon on the edge of disputed space.
Renjik recognized it. “Kerrak. An abandoned mining station.”
“Not abandoned.” Willow frowned. She pointed to another line of text. “Civilian labor relocation. They moved one hundred civilians there six cycles ago to recover remaining tech.”
Willow’s face went pale.
“That’s the demonstration site.”
THEY HAD BEEN pulled into the signals room instead of the med bay, which Willow considered a clear downgrade. Med bays had terrible lighting, but at least no one expected her to interpret murder poetry while in a med pod.
Willow stroked Na’ashq’ii and smiled at Razili’s question. “It means ‘lizard’ in Diné, because it crawled through the dirt. Not very original, I know, but ’the armored land octopus thing’ took too long to say.”
Razili chuckled. “Well, it seems to approve.”
“Or it likes the sound. Or it’s waiting for the right moment to burrow into my spine and assume control of my body.” Willow shrugged. “Hard to say.”
Razili stood beside a projection of the intercepted packet. Calyx was on the opposite side with a tablet in hand and the expression of someone who had slept even less than Willow.
“The packet piggybacked on the burst from the planet. It bounced through three dead relays before we caught it. Most of the encryption collapsed, but the timing layer remained intact.”
“Timing layer,” Willow repeated.
“Cadence.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
Razili giggled. Calyx grunted.
Willow leaned closer. Na’ashq’ii tightened one tentacle around her collarbone. “Because why write a normal evil memo when you can hide it in rhythm.”
Renjik had dropped back far enough to give the specialists space, but not far enough to stop watching everyone who came within arm’s reach of her.
The packet played.
No translation appeared at first. Only static, clipped syllables, and long, deliberate pauses. Willow closed her eyes. The pattern beneath the sound became visible in her mind. Not words. Structure.
Challenge opening.
Witness call.
Proof cadence.
Activation phrase.
Her eyes snapped open. “They aren’t sending instructions to a person. They’re sending instructions to the station.”
Razili went still. Calyx looked up from the tablet.
“Explain.”
Willow pointed to the waveform. “This is a public ritual cadence. Scozid use it when a demonstration is meant to be accepted as law by anyone watching. But these pulses underneath it are machine-readable. If the broadcast plays through a prepared system, the ritual speech becomes the control signal.”
Razili’s face tightened. “The weapon listens to the ceremony.”
“Yes.” Willow swallowed hard. “They built a war crime that applauds when the speech hits the right beat.”
Silence settled over the room.
Calyx enlarged a timestamp buried in the damaged packet. “There’s a scheduled transmission window.”
“How long?”
“Six hours from the original burst.”
Willow did the math and felt the floor tilt beneath her. Na’ashq’ii pulsed cool against her throat.
“Less now.”
The packet shifted as Razili cleaned another fragment. A broken star chart snapped into focus. Kerrak.
“Well. That confirms the target.”
Det’ae’s voice came over the room comm before anyone could respond. “All senior personnel to command. We’ve intercepted an open Scozid transmission from Kerrak.”
Renjik’s hand found Willow’s. Metal fingers. Careful pressure. No hesitation. For the first time, neither of them seemed surprised.
“Together,” he said.
Willow looked up at him. The fear in his eyes matched the fear in her chest, and somehow that made both easier to carry.
“Together,” she echoed.
Na’ashq’ii clicked sharply, like it had voted.
Willow nodded. “Then we go listen to the worst speech in the universe.”
Renjik’s mouth twitched. “And stop it triggering the worst weapon in the universe.”
“That too.”
They moved for command with the weapon waiting ahead of them. Not just the freha enhek.
The words that would wake it.
And somewhere on Kerrak, a hundred civilians were waiting to hear them.