"Phase zero," he said. "Mask and measure."
Thalatha stepped closer, shoulder brushing his. She pointed at two red corners on the board, small flourishes he had drawn without thinking—curves for style more than function. "Cut those," she said.
"Gone," he replied immediately, erasing them with two taps. I like her exact. Saves us from my need to impress the universe. Save the flourishes for the day we don't die.
They started to work like they had done this together for years. He sketched. She trimmed. Rodion set timers and painted risk in thin lines no one could ignore. The rhythm was simple: propose, test, adjust, move on. The board slowly became a map you could walk with your eyes closed.
On the left edge of the holo, a thin clock counted photoperiods. The crystal had narrowed the window again. It felt like a landlord who loved rules more than people.
Thalatha rubbed her thumb along the rim of her cup and watched the clock. "Shorter again," she said.
