Sion: Year Zero

Sion steps into the administrative clearance corridor, following Hartwell’s live tracker as it paints a thin pulse on his display. Ahead, Captain Veylan Marr stands at a private terminal, his back rigid, cane ticking while the screen wipes itself clean.

The purge is still running. He is trying to erase the trail now.

Marr’s shoulder angle shifts a fraction, like he senses the air change behind him. The corridor lights glint off his cane and the gold trim of his uniform as the terminal flashes a final warning line and dims.

Sion closes the distance in a straight, controlled line, bringing the restricted pass and his badge into Marr’s view. The corridor’s blast doors remain sealed, hemming them in with humming conduits and sterile steel.

Marr takes one measured step back from the dead terminal, cane angled for balance, eyes fixed on Sion as the last of the memory bank purge finishes. The arrest window is open, and the corridor goes very still.

Sion’s pistol clears the holster with a flat metallic snap, the muzzle leveling on Marr’s chest. The corridor seems to tighten around the sound.

Marr freezes, cane still angled under one hand, then he eases his weight back from the console.

Hartwell’s hologram sharpens at the edge of the room, her gaze hard on Marr while the terminal sits dark behind him.

Marr lifts both hands, cane now hanging loose in his grip, and turns half a step from the purge station. The terminal remains intact, but its screen is blanking out under Sion’s aim.

Hartwell’s hologram breaks apart into drifting blue fragments and vanishes from the briefing room feed.

The sudden silence leaves Marr alone with Sion’s weapon and the dead terminal glow.

Marr keeps both hands up, but he shifts one careful step away from the console, giving up the last bit of reach.

The holotable drops Hartwell’s remote window, replacing her image with the station map and a fresh dispatch stamp.

Sion holds his aim steady. The terminal is still intact, but the room now belongs to the arrest, not the oversight.

Marr lowers his chin a fraction, the first crack in his composure. He glances from the pistol to the terminal, then back to Sion, as if weighing which truth costs less.

He swallows, shoulders tight under the sterile lights. The holotable keeps the station map and dispatch stamp between them like a verdict.

For the first time, Marr looks less defiant than cornered. The terminal sits exposed at his side, and he does not reach for it.

Sion moves before Marr can find the terminal again. In one hard step, he gets behind him and drives him flat to the wall beside the dead console.

Marr’s hands stay high as Sion snaps the cuffs shut around his wrists. The captain flinches at the lock click, then stills.

The briefing room changes with the arrest, no longer tense but settled. Marr is pinned, the purged terminal stays inert, and the holotable’s station map glows cold between them.

Sion keeps Marr facedown against the wall long enough to clear the distance and check the terminal by touch. Its memory banks remain wiped, but the unit is secured in place.

Marr lowers his head, cuffed and cornered at last. The station map still burns on the holotable, and his next answer hangs in the room.