Page 51

A grainy internal image slowly resolved.

Kesta forgot Tavi immediately.

A silver lattice encircled the patient’s adrenal organ, thin metallic filaments spreading outward along blood vessels before converging near the spine on a denser central node. The geometry was too familiar. She had seen diagrams of almost exactly the same architecture buried inside the Project Helix files she had copied before Major Senn’s people arrested her.

Not inside a living body.

On restricted design schematics.

For several seconds Kesta simply stared at the screen while memories crowded close: prisoners listed as deceased while still breathing, compatibility charts, endocrine-response measurements, Senn’s bland insistence that she did not understand the material she had accessed.

Sera noticed the change in her before anyone else did. The older healer moved beside her, studying Kesta’s face instead of the image.

“You know what that is.”

Kesta swallowed and forced herself to look again at the lattice threaded through the patient’s body. “I know what it resembles.”

Tavi’s humor disappeared. All four hands lowered to his sides.

“What?”

“Endocrine compliance architecture.” Kesta pointed carefully toward the screen without touching it. “The filaments are wrapped around the adrenal structure and major vessels. If the design works the way the Helix records suggested, whoever controls that central node can alter stress response—fear, aggression, territorial behavior, possibly attachment and arousal as well.”

Sera’s silver-gray eyes narrowed. “You are saying someone could make Horan angry.”

“I’m saying they built machinery into him that could change what his body tells him he feels.” Kesta’s voice came out quieter than she intended. She looked through the observation panel at the unconscious patient. “That distinction matters.”

For once, nobody argued with her.

Sera turned back to the scan, her mouth tightening as she followed the metallic branches through Horan’s body. “How long has it been there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you remove it?”

Kesta shook her head. “Not here, and possibly not anywhere without significant risk. Those filaments are integrated around blood vessels and neural tissue. Pulling one loose could cause hemorrhage, spinal damage or both.”

Horan’s body jerked again.

Kesta moved immediately to his side, her attention returning to the patient rather than the horror inside him. “Sedative. Lowest concentration you have.”

Sera handed her a narrow vial. Kesta read the concentration twice, adjusted for the body mass and metabolism she could estimate, then administered half the normal dose. The convulsions eased gradually, but his heart rate remained dangerously high.

Sera reached for the vial again.

Kesta touched her wrist. “Wait.”

The older woman looked at her.

“If the implant is actively stimulating him, we could crash his pressure when the signal stops. I’d rather give his body time to respond before we suppress him further.”

“You are certain?”

“No.” Kesta held Sera’s gaze. “I’m making the best judgment I can from architecture I’ve only seen on paper. If you want certainty, we need the laboratory that built this thing.”

Sera studied her for another moment, then gave one decisive nod. “Then we work from the judgment we have.”

The trust implicit in that answer settled heavily on Kesta’s shoulders. She returned her attention to the monitor, watching Horan’s pulse gradually stabilize while Tavi saved the scan.