And at the center: the quiet private who never missed a step.
Chapter 4 — The Office, the Braid, and the Truth
Marcus summoned her. On his desk lay the severed braid—not a punishment, suddenly a question.
Alara met his gaze. “Permission to speak freely.”
He nodded.
“I didn’t get it,” she said softly. “I earned it. Before Sector 9.”
Memory struck like a flare: fractured perimeter, smoke swallowing coordinates. Radio bursts: ECHO MOVING / STRUCTURE COMPROMI— then silence. Bodies never recovered. Reports stamped uncertain.
“You were there,” Marcus whispered.
“Yes, sir. Others didn’t come home. The story was easier to carry in silence.”
