The metal of the vent groaned again, a slow, screeching slide that vibrated through the floorboards of the server room.

Hayes didn’t look down.

He kept his rifle stock pressed against his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the dark square of the intake grate.

“Carter, get behind the rack,” Hayes said quietly.

Lieutenant Carter scrambled backward, his boots squeaking on the linoleum as he pressed himself against the metal housing of the mainframe.

I forced my attention back to the tablet.

The screen flashed green as the handshake protocol completed.

A waterfall of hex code began cascading down the left side of the display.

“It’s a direct mirror,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Explain, Doctor,” Turner demanded.

He had moved closer to the exit, his hand resting near his holster, though his posture remained stiff.

“Someone has bridged the primary tactical database with the auxiliary environmental array,” I said.

My fingers tapped the glass, pausing the scrolling text to isolate the outbound packets.

“They aren’t just taking technical schematics,” I said.

“Then what is it?” Hayes asked, his eyes still locked on the ceiling.