The Triangle's internal network wasn't supposed to be accessible from student terminals.
That was the official narrative.
In reality, it was just poorly segmented, burdened by legacy systems layered on top of newer architecture. Security through obscurity. Compartmentalization without imagination.
Jack had always been good at finding gaps like that.
He sat alone in the auxiliary study hall long past curfew, long after the last patrol drone had passed through the corridor outside. The overhead lights were dimmed to their lowest operational setting, casting thin, uneven shadows across rows of empty desks that smelled faintly of metal and old datapads.
Silence here wasn't peaceful.
It was procedural.
His tablet hovered just above the desk surface, inert to casual observers. To anyone glancing from a distance, it would have looked like he was reviewing archived lecture notes or refining combat simulations.
He wasn't.
