Swipe Right
Copyright© 2026 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 35: Old Oaths
The request didn’t come through official channels.
That alone told Darius everything he needed to know.
It arrived as a secure ping routed through a system he hadn’t touched in years—an old handshake protocol, obsolete by design, kept alive only by people who believed some lines were worth maintaining long after technology moved on.
Col. James H. Walker U.S. Army Darius stared at the name longer than necessary.
“Sir,” he murmured out of habit.
Amina noticed immediately. She didn’t ask. She never did when something reached that deep.
“Go,” she said quietly. “This one matters.”
The meeting space was neutral—no flags, no insignia, no projections. Just two chairs, a table, and a screen that resolved into the face of a man who had once shared rain-soaked foxholes and sleepless nights.
Walker looked older. Not weaker—just worn in the way responsibility leaves its mark. His hair had gone mostly gray. The eyes, though, were the same. Sharp. Assessing. Honest.
“Morgan,” Walker said.
“Sir,” Darius replied.
Walker winced. “I was hoping we were past that.”
Darius inclined his head. “Force of habit.”
They studied each other in silence, two soldiers measuring distance without needing a rangefinder.
“I won’t waste your time,” Walker said finally. “I was asked to talk to you.”
Darius nodded. “I figured.”
“You once took an oath,” Walker continued. “To the Constitution. To the Army. To put the United States above all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
He let the words sit.
“They want to know where you stand.”
Darius didn’t answer immediately.
He remembered sand in his boots that never quite came out. Radios crackling with half-words. The weight of men depending on him to make the right call with incomplete information.
“I haven’t forgotten my oath,” Darius said at last.
Walker leaned forward. “Then help me understand why it looks like you’ve stepped outside it.”
Darius met his gaze.
“Because the frame changed,” he said calmly.
Walker frowned. “An oath doesn’t change.”
“No,” Darius agreed. “But what it was meant to protect does.”
Silence stretched.
Walker exhaled slowly. “You’re not making this easy.”
“I’m not trying to,” Darius replied. “I’m trying to be honest.”
Walker rubbed a hand across his jaw.
“There are people who think you’ve gone rogue,” he said. “Others think you’re building leverage. Some think you’re a threat.”
Darius almost smiled. Almost.
“And you?” he asked.
Walker hesitated—just a fraction too long.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that you’re still the same man who wouldn’t send people into a bad fight. And that scares some folks more than someone reckless ever could.”
Darius nodded. “That tracks.”
Walker’s voice hardened slightly. “They want assurances.”
“Of what?”
“That you won’t act against U.S. interests.”
Darius leaned back.
“I won’t act against human interests,” he said. “If those diverge, then we already have a problem.”
Walker’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a hell of a line, Darius.”
“It’s the only honest one I have.”
The Colonel looked tired now.
“You know they’ll keep pushing,” Walker said. “They’ll use law. Pressure. Public opinion. They’ll use me again if they have to.”
“I know,” Darius replied.
Walker nodded once. “I had to ask.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
Walker’s gaze shifted off-camera for a fraction, as if checking whether he was alone. When he looked back, his voice dropped—not softer, just more careful.
“There’s something else,” he said.
Darius didn’t move. He waited.
“It’s not official,” Walker continued. “Not yet. But it’s coming up in rooms I didn’t expect it to.”
“Which rooms?” Darius asked.
Walker exhaled through his nose. “Chaplains. Senior ones. Interfaith councils. People who don’t usually talk to each other unless something scares them.”
Darius felt it settle—not surprise, but recognition.
“They’re asking what you believe,” Walker said.
A pause.
“Not you personally,” Walker clarified. “You as ... this.” His hand lifted slightly, meaning ARK-1, the island, the protectorate, the quiet fact of something new that didn’t ask permission. “They want to know if you’re claiming authority over meaning. Over God. Over the future.”
Darius shook his head once. “We haven’t said anything about faith.”
“That’s the problem,” Walker replied. “Silence looks like a vacuum. Vacuums get filled.”