Chương 10
Sloane stared at her.
It was the first decision Evelyn had made that night that seemed to surprise her.
“You're protecting her privacy?”
Evelyn turned.
“She isn't evidence.”
Sloane looked away.
At 12:41 a.m., Lena came upstairs alone.
She wore the navy fleece again.
Her badge was gone.
Nobody called her Elise.
That seemed to matter.
She sat on a stool beside Noah.
“Can I see the match?”
Noah looked at Evelyn.
Lena noticed.
“Don't ask her.”
Noah nodded.
“You're right.”
He opened the comparison.
Lena read silently.
“How accurate is this?”
Noah explained what the percentage meant and, more importantly, what it did not mean.
“This is a strong maternal relationship result from the profiles available here. An independent lab should confirm it from newly collected samples.”
“So you could be wrong.”
“Possible.”
“Likely?”
“No.”
She stared at the screen.
“Can Miriam have changed it?”
“Not without leaving signs.”
“Can you have changed it?”
“Yes.”
Everyone looked at him.
Noah shrugged nervously.
“I have system access. Theoretically I could fabricate a display. That's why you don't trust one screen.”
Lena almost smiled.
“You're bad at reassuring people.”
“It's come up.”
He showed her the raw identifiers, audit trail, historical record hash, and archive tag.
He did not pretend any one item was magic.
Together they formed something much harder to dismiss.
Lena looked at Evelyn.
“Can I have one of your hairs?”
Sloane inhaled sharply.
Evelyn nodded.
“Of course.”
“Now.”
Noah said, “Hair isn't ideal unless we have the root.”
Lena sighed.
“Fine. What do you need?”
“A cheek swab would be simpler.”
They used sealed collection kits from the laboratory.
Noah documented each one.
Lena swabbed herself.
Evelyn swabbed herself.
Marcus watched.
Sloane stood at the far wall.
Noah sealed both samples.
Lena pointed toward the cryogenic capsule.
“And that?”
“Archived material.”
“Mine?”
“We think so.”
She walked closer.
For several seconds she stared at the silver tag.
E.C.-01.
“That's creepy.”
Evelyn laughed before she could stop herself.
Lena looked over.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
“You said creepy.”
“So?”
“You used to hate specimen labels.”
Sloane's face tightened.
Lena frowned.
“I was four.”
“I know.”
“You keep remembering things I don't.”
Evelyn's smile disappeared.
“I'm sorry.”
Lena studied her.
“That's going to happen a lot, isn't it?”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
She walked away from the capsule.
At 1:10 a.m., the main generator developed an intake alarm.
The station engineer arrived wearing snow pants over flannel pajamas and asked why half the executive staff had taken over his biomedical lab.
Nobody answered.
He looked at the sealed evidence pouch.
Then at Marcus's cheek, where a faint red mark remained.
“I don't want to know.”
“Good instinct,” Noah said.
The engineer reset the intake heaters and left muttering about management.
Lena laughed.
It was the first unguarded sound Evelyn heard from her.
It lasted perhaps two seconds.
Sloane looked toward the girl automatically.
The expression on her face was unmistakable.
Love.
Evelyn wished it were fake.
She wished everything about Sloane could fit inside one clean category.
Kidnapper.
Liar.
Criminal.
But Sloane knew Lena liked grilled cheese.
She knew how Lena took her tea.
She knew that the girl became quiet when frightened rather than loud.
She had also erased Evelyn from her life.
Human beings were inconvenient that way.
At 1:26, Sloane asked to speak with Lena privately.
Evelyn wanted to object.
Lena answered first.
“No.”
Sloane swallowed.
“All right.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
Sloane sat slowly.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
“That means no.”
“It means I was afraid.”
“Of going to jail?”
“Partly.”
“Of losing me?”
“Yes.”
Lena stared at her.
“Those aren't the same thing.”
“No.”
“Which one mattered more?”
Sloane's eyes filled.
“I don't know.”
Lena shook her head.
“Everybody keeps saying that tonight.”
Nobody had an answer.
The storm reached its peak after two.
Snow covered the lower half of the reinforced windows completely. Wind pressure made the frames groan. Operations reported that the nearest landing strip would remain unusable until at least late morning.
The delay changed the atmosphere.
There would be no dramatic arrival.
No authorities bursting through doors.
No immediate ending.
They were trapped with what they had done.
Noah heated soup from a packet.
Marcus found crackers.
Evelyn realized she had not eaten since noon and still could not make herself swallow more than three bites.
Lena ate half a grilled cheese sandwich at the counter.
Sloane had made it.
Lena accepted the plate without thanking her.
That small cruelty hurt Sloane visibly.
Evelyn noticed and then resented herself for noticing.
Marcus sat alone near the specimen cabinets.
Without his coat, he looked less intimidating.
Just tired.
Lena glanced at him.
“You're the guy who said I was dead?”
Marcus looked up.
“Yes.”
“Why are you answering everything now?”
He considered it.
“Because lying has become expensive.”
Evelyn almost objected to the phrasing.
Lena nodded.
“At least that's honest.”
Marcus looked toward the dark window.
“I should have been honest twelve years ago.”
“Probably.”
He smiled faintly.
“You sound like Evelyn.”
Lena's expression hardened.
“Don't do that.”
“What?”
“Don't compare me to her because of genetics.”
Marcus nodded.
“You're right.”
After a while Lena said, “Was she always like this?”
Marcus looked at Evelyn.
“I didn't know her before.”
“Before what?”
“Before you died.”
Lena stared at him.
Marcus winced.
“Sorry.”
“No. It's weird. Keep saying it.”
Evelyn watched her.
Lena tore a cracker in half.
“I apparently died.”
No one corrected her.
At 2:37, Noah found the deletion queue.
It was hidden inside a routine database maintenance job scheduled for 3:00 a.m.
He stared at the screen.
“Miriam.”
Sloane looked up.
“What?”
“There's a purge task.”
Marcus stood.
“What purge?”
Noah rotated the monitor.
“Historical identity snapshots older than ten years.”
Sloane approached.
“I didn't schedule that.”
“Your credential did.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Everyone went still.
Sloane looked genuinely confused.
Marcus said, “Who else has your credential?”
“No one.”
May you like
“Then cancel it.”
She typed her code.
