Planet Earth. Central Belt Security Service Building.

  Camilla walks down the corridor. Her steps are confident, but there’s hidden tension in her gaze. Nicholas barely keeps up, his breath heavy—just like his thoughts.

  “Director,” he calls out, trying not to fall behind, “the mercenaries, Yulia and Alex... they’re on our smugglers’ base. Right now—aboard a cargo ship, headed for Mercury.”

  Camilla stops abruptly. She turns—her eyes gleam like sharp, cold blades.

  “You don’t understand?” Her voice slices the silence like icy rain. “They’re just pawns. Operatives. They had no idea of the consequences. Catching them is like grabbing a shadow. The war has already begun, Nicholas. The Mars fleet is en route. And even if we expose the truth—Markus won’t retreat. They’re leaving, and mind you—without Ivor, they wouldn’t be on that ship.”

  Nicholas slows down, feeling the weight of her words. His gaze drops to the floor.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he mutters.

  She doesn’t give him time to dwell. She keeps walking, with the stride of a commander. Ahead—massive doors to the Council Hall. They open with a soft mechanical hiss. Nicholas hurries after her, letting Camilla enter first.

  The Council Hall is a vast chamber. Despite its high ceilings and strict lines, the room exudes pressure. Tall chairs line the walls, each occupied by a Council member. They sit like chess pieces—motionless, watchful. On the background screens—a majestic, somber scene: a snow-covered mountain peak, silent, perilous. This natural backdrop echoes the quiet tension in the room.

  Camilla and Nicholas step into the center, stopping before the Council. Camilla remains perfectly still. Her presence is a challenge—a reminder she belongs here.

  “Intelligence Chief Nicholas, present,” he says clearly.

  “Security Director Camilla, present,” she adds, not looking at anyone.

  From the floor, a podium rises with a soft sound. A man in a checkered suit stands. In his hand—a tiny gavel. He taps it gently before speaking:

  “For those who’ve forgotten—I’m Socrates, Chair of the Earth Council,” he says with slight irony, though his eyes are cold and calculating. “I declare this hearing open.”

  The Council members nod. Socrates steps toward the screen. The display changes, like a heavy shadow falling across the room, highlighting the seriousness of the moment.

  “Let’s begin with the most urgent matter,” he continues. “Mars is going to war with Mercury. We’re caught in the middle. We need an accurate assessment of their forces. Nicholas, report on the Outer Belt squadron.”

  Nicholas steps forward, his shoulders tense. He holds his breath for a moment before speaking. His voice is clear and firm, though underlined with worry.

  “The Martian force includes: one command station, twenty-five cruisers, fifty supply transports, and thirty landing ships.”

  Silence. Thick and suffocating. The Council members exchange glances. One of them whispers a stunned “impossible.”

  Camilla remains silent, but her calm gaze confirms she already knew.

  Socrates scratches the back of his head, looking thrown off—if only for a second. Then he returns to his usual tone:

  “We estimated their strength at one-fifth that. How did this happen, Nicholas?”

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  “They hid the fleet in the asteroid belt,” Nicholas replies. His voice is steady now, but worry still flickers in his eyes. “They built docks there too. Full concealment. We only discovered them when they left the shadows.”

  Socrates narrows his eyes.

  “I’m taking this matter under personal review,” he declares like handing down a sentence. “Now—the second issue. Camilla, how did a diplomat from the Outer Belt get murdered under your jurisdiction? This wasn’t a street thug. This was a diplomat.”

  Camilla steps to the podium. Her stride is confident despite the gravity of the situation. She knows every word she says could be her last.

  “It was a provocation,” she begins, leaving no time for doubt. “Cold-blooded, calculated. Markus is willing to sacrifice his own just to start this war. He used mercenaries—one’s already been silenced to cover the tracks. We believe an unknown technology was used against us—possibly something capable of controlling the operative’s mind—”Socrates cuts her off. His voice slams like a gavel.”

  “Enough,” he nearly shouts. “We don’t need lectures. We know what the service entails. The real issue is—your failure. Yours and Intelligence. So now, Director, we must ask—are you still fit for your roles?”

  Silence. Camilla doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze is calm. Slowly, she tilts her head, thinking.

  “I deeply regret,” she says, her voice carrying quiet strength, “that we couldn’t prevent this war. But I see no grounds to strip Nicholas or myself of our authority. This sounds more like a search for scapegoats.”

  It’s a challenge, but Socrates doesn’t back down. He narrows his eyes, staring at her.

  “You understand full well,” he says, almost syllable by syllable, “that Mercury has no chance. The Martians will crush their fleet. And then? Take the Mercury Corporation. Collapse Earth’s energy grid. A new age of obedience. Androids back in chains. You failed. So tell us—why keep specialists like you around?”

  Camilla feels her inner calm begin to crack.

  “That’s for you to decide,” Nicholas interrupts. He holds back irritation, his patience thinning with every word from Socrates. A combat officer, yet forced to endure lectures from career bureaucrats. “Just don’t think you’ll replace us in a few days. We’re not janitors.”

  Socrates looks at him with a smug smile.

  “That’s a staffing matter,” he snaps. “Everything’s replaceable.”

  Camilla scans the room, studying each Council member.

  “Let’s make something clear. The living have been harboring resentment for a long time.

  They resent free androids—especially those on Mercury and Earth. Those who’ve become stronger, smarter, independent. The only way to reclaim control is war. They needed a pretext. And they got one.”

  Her words roll through the room like heavy waves, forcing everyone to listen. Socrates squints, lips curling in a smirk.

  “And you? When did you plan to come to these conclusions?” he asks mockingly, as if he should’ve been the one to warn them.

  “We already did,” Camilla replies, her voice cool despite the pressure. “Years ago. And all this time, we’ve supported the Corporation. Secretly supplied them with weapons. Prepared them for war.”

  A gasp rolls through the hall. Faces of Council members twist in shock and confusion. One leans forward, troubled.

  “Without our knowledge? Where did the funding come from?”

  Camilla doesn’t flinch. Her voice remains cold, composed.

  “The Mercury Corporation founded the Android Rights Defense Fund. It’s our primary sponsor. With those funds, we removed control chips. Gave Earth androids equal rights. That same money went into arming Mercury’s defenses.”

  A loud rustle—like whispers from dozens of mouths—fills the hall. Camilla can feel her words settling in the air, forcing everyone to weigh them.

  Socrates raises his hand sharply, cutting off the noise. His face is grave, as if he’s staring into a disappointing void.

  “I need full disclosure. Inventory, numbers, everything you’ve delivered over the years.”

  Camilla doesn’t move. Her gaze is firm and unflinching.

  “Apologies, Council,” she says without hesitation. “But I can’t reveal that data on the eve of combat. I can’t vouch for the full loyalty of everyone in this room. What if someone accepts Mars’s offer?”

  Socrates explodes from his seat. Rage distorts his face, as if the fate of the world hangs on his words.

  “That’s outrageous. There are no traitors among us!” he nearly shouts, slamming his hand on the table.

  Camilla smiles faintly. Calmly, almost philosophically, she replies:

  “I believe you,” her words are soft but firm. “But my job isn’t to believe. My job is to verify.”

  A beat of silence. The room holds its breath. Council members glance at one another. They didn’t expect this—but they can’t fault her logic.

  “Very well,” Socrates finally says, exhaling deeply. A heavy, resigned voice. “You’ve said enough. Please leave the chamber. We must discuss... your continued suitability for duty.”

  Camilla nods. Her face remains steady, though she knows her position now hangs in the balance. She and Nicholas turn and calmly exit the hall.

  The doors close behind them with a soft, dull thud—

  —as if the entire Earth is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.