Swipe Right
Copyright© 2026 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 32: And a Child Shall Lead Them
The mistake was small.
That was the problem.
Llenia the Russian operative didn’t steal anything. She didn’t sabotage systems or trigger alarms. She filed a request—perfectly formatted, properly routed, polite to the point of invisibility.
A cross-domain comparison. Historical system latency correlated with civilian traffic flow. A harmless academic exercise.
Except it wasn’t.
Aisha saw it first—not as violation, but as shape. A question that didn’t belong to the problem it pretended to solve.
“She’s trying to triangulate,” Aisha said quietly. “Not data. Behavior.”
Darius nodded once. “She’s bored.”
“No,” Amina corrected softly. “She’s impatient.”
The operative had mistaken restraint for indecision. Transparency for softness. She believed the board had gone static.
She reached—not far, just enough.
And the board answered.
The extraction was clean.
No confrontation. No accusations. No raised voices.
Darius met with her alone.
“You’re being returned to Earth,” he said evenly.
She didn’t protest. That, more than anything, confirmed the decision.
“I assume this is temporary,” she said.
“I assume nothing,” Darius replied.
A pause.
“You’re making a mistake,” she added. “You’re losing visibility.”
Darius met her eyes. “You mistake presence for influence.”
She smiled thinly. “You’ll see me again.”
“Probably,” he said.
She was escorted to a shuttle under shroud—not as punishment, but as boundary. ARK-1 did not cage her.
It released her.
And in doing so, sent a signal.
The spike came hours later.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
A tremor in subspace telemetry. A resonance where none should exist. Shroud harmonics disturbed—ever so slightly—by a transmission never meant to be noticed.
Maya froze mid-sentence.
“That’s not us,” she said.
Aisha’s hands moved fast, eyes sharp. “It’s echoing. Like something just ... listened.”
The room shifted.
Not panic. Recognition.
Amina felt it like a pressure change. “They’re closer.”
“Yes,” Darius said quietly. “And they didn’t find us by force.”
They recalibrated in silence.
Protocols adjusted. Shroud layers retuned. Latus defenses leaned forward—not awakening, just noting.
The shadow enemy had not arrived.
But it had turned its head.
Later, after the noise settled and the rooms emptied, Darius found himself somewhere small and human.
A low table. A chessboard. Two cups of something that pretended to be cocoa.
Braden sat across from him, feet swinging, brow furrowed.
“You messed up,” Braden said matter-of-factly.
Darius raised an eyebrow. “Did I?”
“You lost your knight,” Braden said, pointing. “You shouldn’t have moved it there.”
Darius studied the board. “Maybe.”
Braden sighed—the long, patient sigh of someone who knew adults complicated simple things.
“The game’s not over,” he said.
“No,” Darius agreed.
“You always say that,” Braden continued, “just because you lose a move doesn’t mean you lose the game. You just ... play the next one.”
Darius leaned back, letting the words land.
“What if you don’t know which move is right?” he asked.
Braden shrugged. “Then you still have to move.”
Darius smiled faintly. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t,” Braden said, tapping the board, “that’s checkmate too.”
Silence settled—not heavy. Clear.
Darius reached forward and moved a piece. Not aggressively. Intentionally.
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