The chamber spits ozone and red clicks. Jackson braces the threshold while the corridor boots hammer closer. Professor Dayton lies on the concrete, blinking through the pain, one hand locked around loose wires.

Dallas cuts to the relay instead of the doorway, crouching low as the indicator light strobes over stamped route marks and a partial personnel tag. The panel is still live, still talking, still hiding somebody behind it.

Jackson grunts as the bulkhead takes another удар, then snaps, "Dallas, now. If that door goes, we lose the room."

Dallas hauls Dayton into a seated position and snatches the wires from his fist. One wire carries a fresh Harbor Unit seal. Another is inked with the same internal routing code Dallas saw on the handler logs.

A second impact shudders the frame. In the relay glow, the stamped code points straight back toward Harbor Unit oversight, and the clicking panel confirms it, whoever set this trap is inside the chain, not outside it.

Dallas jams the relay sequence with a clean twist of the wiring, and the bulkhead shudders, then stops short of sealing. The amber light steadies on the console, holding the door in a half-breath of metal and pressure.

The panel answers with a rapid, nervous clicking, but the latch does not finish its travel. A maintenance route flashes on the monitor for a split second, marked with an internal oversight stamp Dallas has not seen before.

Jackson tears one shoulder off the frame long enough to glance back, breath hard, eyes tracking the screen. The corridor boots keep hammering, but the room now has a blocked door and a live route instead of a closing trap.

Dayton drags himself upright against the concrete, wincing, and points at the glowing code with a shaking finger. The route resolves to a Harbor Unit office node, and the discarded badge on the floor catches the relay light like proof.

Dallas lifts the discarded Harbor Unit badge from the floor and turns it under the amber light. A stamped oversight code sits beneath a smear of grit, fresh enough to read, and the metal still carries a partial rack number from the relay office.

The badge’s edge is nicked where it has scraped concrete, but the laminate seal is intact. The number pairs with the route on the monitor, confirming the badge belongs to the same internal line that is feeding the lock.

Outside the stalled bulkhead, the rapid clicking resumes in short, impatient bursts. The relay holds, but only for the moment, and the monitor keeps the oversight route lit like a breadcrumb into the building.

Dallas folds the badge into view one last time, fixing the code in his mind. Dayton steadies himself against the wall, suddenly exposed by what the badge proves, while Jackson angles toward the door and waits for Dallas’s call.

Dallas drags the badge across the monitor’s route, matching the oversight code to the lit line. The stamped rack number snaps to a relay office node deeper in the Harbor Unit, and the same internal path is flagged twice on the screen.

Jackson steps in beside the console, eyes cutting from the badge to the monitor as the route resolves cleanly. The rapid clicking outside keeps time against the stalled bulkhead, now sounding less like pressure and more like someone waiting for a report.

Dayton reaches for the edge of the monitor, steadying himself as the route finally means something concrete. The office node flashes once, then holds, as if the system has accepted the match.

Dallas folds the badge shut in his palm. The path is no longer a rumor, it is a location, and the chamber waits on what he does with it next.

Dallas traces the lit route off the monitor and into the Harbor Unit directory cache. The node returns a clean office designation, then a personnel card, and then a chain of authorizations stamped with the same oversight code.

Professor Dayton goes still when the name resolves. Jackson leans in harder, reading the badge data as if pressure alone can force it to confess.

A second screen pops the relay office floor plan, and the route line ends at a sealed records cage marked with the mole's approved access levels. Dallas finds the owner attached to the node, a Harbor Unit oversight clerk with the right keys and the wrong hours.

Dallas shuts the badge in his fist, and the edge bites his palm hard enough to leave blood on the metal. The monitor keeps pulsing the office node while the clicking outside speeds up, impatient now that the answer has a face.

Dallas steps out from the console and crosses to the relay office node on the monitor, letting the personnel card fill his sightline. The route trace holds steady, but the amber light on the panel keeps clicking faster behind him.

The floor plan pops wider, sealing the office in black lines and a records cage. Dallas traces the desk location, and the system returns a name, a badge code, and a log of after-hours access tied to the same oversight stamp.

Dallas reaches through the monitor cache and pins the clerk’s desk file open on the screen, exposing the chain of approvals and the room layout. The move costs him, the badge edge bites deeper into his palm, and a fresh smear of blood marks the metal.

Dayton exhales once, sharp and relieved, then braces himself against the wall. Outside the chamber, the clicking speeds up into an impatient rattle, as if someone has noticed the office lighting up.

Dallas keeps his bleeding hand low and steps into the office node shown on the monitor. The desk is there in person now, neat as a lie, while the records cage sits open behind it.

A Harbor Unit man is already at the desk, rigid in his chair, badge clipped too straight, eyes fixed on the screen as if he expects a verdict.

Dallas sets the battered badge file on the desktop. The monitor throws the approval chain across the clerk's face, and the name on the route trace matches the man in front of him.

Jackson angles toward the office door, blocking the clerk's escape route without taking his eyes off him. Dayton stays behind Dallas, pale but upright, staring at the records cage and the blood on the file.

The clerk looks from Dallas to the monitor, then back to the desk, and whatever cover he had left drains out of his face. The clicking in the wall speeds up, waiting for somebody to move.

Dallas drives the clerk down onto the desk, face first, hard enough to rattle the badge file and spray the blood smear wider across the wood.

Jackson stays planted at the door, but Dayton steps closer, eyes fixed on the desk. The clerk's free hand slips out a hidden key card from under his cuff and skids it toward Dallas.

The monitor flickers once, then settles on a routing sheet stamped with the clerk's approval code and a second name beneath it, marked for transfer. The clicking in the wall keeps time like a loose metronome.

Dallas snatches the hidden key card off the desk and palms it before the clerk can flinch. With his other hand, he gets the records cage open in one hard motion, the lock giving up with a dry click.

The cage door swings wide. Inside are transfer logs, stale dust, and a marked ledger sleeve with Bishop's routing stamp. Dallas's knuckles scrape the frame, leaving a bright line of blood on the metal edge.

Jackson shifts at the doorway, eyes cutting once to the hall, then back to the desk. The clicking in the wall grows sharper, as if something on the other side has heard the file cage open.

Dallas pulls the ledger sleeve free. The monitor catches on the clerk's second name, now fully exposed beside the approval route, while the amber light keeps pulsing over the blood-smeared desk.

Dallas flips the ledger sleeve under the amber light and finds a blind-stamped route code tucked in the seam, rubbed almost smooth by handling.

He catches a second mark, a tiny transfer seal pressed beneath the glue line, then lifts a loose corner of paper backing with his thumb.

A partial handler stamp appears, office initials and a maintenance window, enough to tie the shell account to one Harbor Unit oversight chain.

Jackson steps in closer as the clerk goes pale, and the hidden relay keeps its faint rhythmic click under the desk like a ticking metronome.