I picked it up once. It was light, but not suspiciously so. Nothing rattled inside. No smell. Just silence. And that strange diagonal pattern in the tape—something about it tugged at my memory, though I couldn’t place why.
Then my CO, Roy Mendel, walked in.
“Don’t touch it,” he said. “That’s not a gift.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Sir, it’s from my family. Probably something dumb for my birthday.”
Roy didn’t even glance at me. “Report it. Now.”
Internal Security took over like the room belonged to them. The box went onto a steel table. Gloves appeared. Forms. Serial numbers. The careful, slow routine of people who know that ordinary-looking packages can ruin lives.
I stepped into the hallway and called home.
My mom answered on the second ring. Her voice was light. Too light.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart. Did it get there?”
It. Not “your present.” Not “the package.” Just it.
She asked if I’d opened it yet.
The sharp breath she tried—and failed—to hide told me everything.
When I returned inside, one of the sergeants had already scanned the barcode. The supplier name flashed across the screen. I recognized it instantly—from a long-forgotten “favor” my sister once begged me to help with. The kind of favor that uses your name and gives it back damaged.
The air in the room felt thinner.
“So,” the investigator said, gripping the box cutter, “we clear to proceed?”
I stared at the untouched tape under the harsh fluorescent lights. Heard my commander’s warning echo again in my head—steady and absolute.
Don’t touch it.
The blade lowered toward the seam.
“Stop,” I say, my voice sharper than I feel inside. Every set of eyes snaps toward me. “There’s something you need to know first.”
The investigator freezes, blade hovering a centimeter above the tape. Roy turns slowly, his gaze drilling into me now. “You’ve got five seconds,” he says.
My throat tightens. “The shipping company. Blue Glint. My sister got mixed up with them two years ago. Small-time import work at first. I used my name once to help clear a shipment faster. I didn’t know what they really were moving until later.”
Roy’s jaw flexes. “And you’re telling us this now?”
“I thought it was over,” I say. “She said she got out. Swore she cut all ties.”
The investigator exhales slowly and signals another officer. They bring over a portable scanner and sweep it over the box. The screen lights up with chaotic patterns, broken outlines, something dense layered inside. Not wires. Not metal. Organic shapes.
“Not explosive,” the investigator mutters. “But definitely not safe.”
The room tightens around me. My heartbeat is suddenly too loud in my ears. “What is it?”
The scanner tech hesitates. “Could be bio-storage. Or… something preserved.”
Roy looks at me like he’s measuring the weight of my entire life in a single glance. “You don’t open that here,” he says. “You don’t open it anywhere near this base.”
The box is sealed into a hardened containment case within minutes. I’m escorted into a separate briefing room while alarms quietly ripple through sections of the building. Nothing dramatic. No flashing lights. Just the subtle shift of a place preparing for something dangerous without letting panic take the reins.
I sit alone at a steel table, hands clasped so tightly my fingers ache. My birthday passes silently at exactly that moment. No one mentions it.
An hour later, Roy enters with two medical officers and a woman I’ve never seen before—short hair, gray suit, eyes that don’t blink often enough.
“This is Dr. Keller,” Roy says. “Defense Biosecurity.”
She studies me like I’m already part of the incident. “Your sister’s name,” she says.
I give it.
Her lips press into a thin line. “We’ve been tracking Blue Glint under different shells for five years. They specialize in moving restricted biological assets through civilian channels. Samples. Live tissue. Sometimes people.” Continue reading…
