The silent hum of the control room did little to ease Cynthia's growing unease. The last few hours had unraveled everything they thought they knew. Marcus wasn't the mole—but someone was still inside, orchestrating every step of their downfall.
Marla leaned over the console, her fingers dancing over the interface as she worked to decode the transmission log. "They're careful," she muttered. "Whoever's doing this knows exactly how to cover their tracks."
Cynthia crossed her arms. "But not careful enough. Marcus's credentials were used, but the timestamps don't add up. If we can isolate the inconsistencies, we might have something."
Marcus, still visibly shaken, hovered near Lena as she navigated a secondary terminal. His voice was quieter than usual. "What if it's not just one person? What if it's multiple?"
Lena paused. "A network?"
"Think about it," Marcus continued. "Every time we get close, something new happens—like we're being redirected. If there's more than one person involved, it would explain how they're always one step ahead."
Marla's fingers froze mid-type. "That would mean we're looking at an entire operation, not just an inside leak."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Cynthia inhaled sharply. "Then we need to stop treating this like a simple security breach. This is an attack—on us, on AeroGallacianSpace, maybe even on something bigger."
Prometheus, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "We've been playing defense this whole time." He turned to Cynthia. "It's time to strike back."
Cynthia met his gaze, determination solidifying in her chest. They'd been cornered, deceived, manipulated—but they weren't defeated. Not yet.
She glanced at Lena, Marcus, and Marla. "Then let's stop playing their game."
Marla smirked. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The tides were shifting. And this time, they were the ones taking control.