The atmosphere in the AeroGallacianSpace headquarters had changed. Tension hung in the air like an unspoken warning, pressing against Cynthia's chest as she walked through the dimly lit corridors.
The discovery of the hidden transmissions had shifted everything. Every conversation, every glance, every movement now carried the weight of suspicion. The true mole was still among them, and whoever it was had gone to great lengths to manipulate their perceptions.
Cynthia entered the control room, where Lena and Marcus were already deep in their work, lines of code streaming across the screens. Marla stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching everything with an intensity that suggested she wasn't going to let anything slip past her.
"We managed to trace the outbound transmissions," Marcus said, rubbing his temples. "But there's a problem."
"Of course there is," Prometheus muttered. "Let's hear it."
Marcus exhaled. "The signals were bounced through multiple relay points. Whoever did this was meticulous. But there was a pattern—every transmission ended up rerouting to a high-security server buried deep within an old research division… one that was supposed to be decommissioned."
Lena frowned. "Which division?"
Marcus hesitated, then turned the screen to face them. The words made Cynthia's blood run cold.
Project Omen.
Silence fell over the room. Marla's expression darkened. "That project was shut down years ago. Completely erased."
"Apparently not," Marcus replied grimly. "Someone kept it alive."
Cynthia clenched her jaw. Project Omen had been one of the company's most classified initiatives—a research endeavor shrouded in secrecy, rumored to have been dismantled after internal conflicts. If someone had revived it… it meant that the betrayal ran deeper than they had feared.
"Who had access to it?" Prometheus asked.
Marcus shook his head. "That's the thing. The records were wiped clean. But there is one name that keeps appearing in archived data pulls—"
A sharp beep interrupted him. The security system had detected movement outside the server room.
Cynthia reacted instantly. "Let's move."
They rushed through the corridors, the silence of the empty hallways amplifying the pounding of Cynthia's heart. As they approached the server room, the door was slightly ajar.
Cynthia signaled for caution. Marla drew her weapon, stepping forward first. She pushed the door open, revealing a single figure standing in front of the central terminal, fingers frozen over the keyboard.
It was Dr. Adrian.
His eyes flickered with something between resignation and defiance.
"You weren't supposed to find out," he said quietly.
Cynthia took a slow step forward. "But we did. And now you're going to tell us everything."
Dr. Adrian exhaled. "I was trying to protect you."
Marla's grip on her weapon tightened. "That's not how it looks from here."
Cynthia studied him carefully. He wasn't just cornered—he looked genuinely torn. As if the betrayal weighed on him as much as it did on them.
"What is Project Omen?" she asked.
Dr. Adrian hesitated, then finally spoke.
"It's not what you think." His voice was barely above a whisper. "It wasn't about sabotage. It was about control."
A cold shiver ran down Cynthia's spine.
And in that moment, she knew—the worst was yet to come.