The room hadn't changed. Same table. Same seamless grey walls. Same faint buzz in the lighting. But the tone was different now.

  Dauss stood. Jamaal sitting. Jenna had left, supposedly called away.

  The display on the wall shows nothing but a pulsing red PAUSE icon - the recording has been manually disabled.

  "You're not contained," Dauss says. "But this is not casual."

  Jamaal crosses his arms. "I figured."

  Dauss circles the table once before sitting again.

  "Do you know how many systems went offline within a radius of 50 meters from you, in the last four days?"

  Jamaal raises a suspicious eyebrow but doesn't answer.

  "Seventeen," Dauss says. "Docking control. Comms. An entire fleet hangar door locked and unlocked six times in one minute. One drone stopped mid-motion and began... sketching. In dust."

  He leans forward.

  "Do you know what it drew?"

  Jamaal shakes his head.

  "Your brother's name."

  That lands. Jamaal swallows but keeps his tone level.

  "That doesn't mean anything. He's gone. You scanned the site. You saw the logs."

  "We saw corrupted logs," Dauss snaps. "And telemetry that didn't behave like any system failure we've ever cataloged. We are not just talking about fraud anymore," he says.

  "This is containment-level interference. Systems-wide disturbance. Intentional. Coordinated."

  "We're seeing personality spill. We've mapped linguistic patterns inside engineering terminals that match your recorded conversations. A name. A number. Four – two. Over and over."

  Now he leans in.

  Jamaal says quietly, "I've had dreams. That's all. Static. Voices. Honestly, I still see him everywhere, you know, I thought I was breaking under pressure."

  Dauss's voice lowers.

  "Then you're either a liability with a conscience... or an accomplice in denial."

  A long silence.

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  Dauss presses on.

  "What did you see aboard the Amira?"

  Jamaal's expression shifts - the faintest crack.

  "Nothing I trust."

  "But something happened."

  "...Yes."

  Dauss nods, calm again. He taps the screen in front of him. Brings up a page that Jamaal can't see.

  "Here's the thing," he says. "If you're lying to protect him, that makes you infiltrated. And infiltration cases are handled by protocol Q4. That means EMI termination. Long-term incarceration. Asset seizure. Complete reset."

  Jamaal's voice sharpens. "He's not alive."

  Dauss snaps back, "He is not dead."

  Silence.

  "I know the difference," Jamaal says. "He died. I saw it. And whatever's glitching your systems, it's not him."

  Another silence. Tighter this time.

  Dauss rises. Walks slowly toward the door.

  "Then you won't mind staying in containment until the risk model says otherwise."

  Jamaal stands too.

  "No," he says. "I want to leave, I've done nothing wrong, I'm not under arrest."

  Dauss doesn't turn. "That's not your decision."

  Jamaal steps forward.

  "Open the door."

  Dauss places his hand on the panel. Doesn't move.

  "You are not cleared."

  Jamaal doesn't blink.

  "Then why is it already open?"

  Dauss looks up.

  The door has slid open.

  Soft light from the corridor spills in - blinking, pulsing.

  Dauss steps back, confused.

  A second door opens, down the hallway.

  And another.

  Dauss steps into the hallway as more doors hiss open around him - equipment closets, security alcoves, med bays - a spreading ring of access he didn't grant.

  Jamaal is still watching him.

  The hum of the lights has changed pitch again - a layered tone, subtle, almost like breath.

  Jamaal steps through the open door.

  He doesn't run.

  He doesn't need to

  Dauss backs into the room.

  "Who authorized - ?"

  On the way out, all the doors in front of Jamaal open as if he were an honored guest who isn't supposed to touch anything.

  Whatever is happening... is not his doing.