***

  Hours before the accident with Lizzie Wolter's car Matthias sat anchored in the deep foam of his lounge chair. Despite his projection of veteran composure, his mind was submerged in the enigma of the previous message. He was a creature of the space habitats, long accustomed to the rhythmic pull of simulated gravity, yet today the centrifugal force felt off, leaving him with a faint, persistent dizziness.

  Precisely four standard hours later, the silence was broke. The secure terminal chimed, heralding a second message through the same high secured channel. The parameters remained identical: a fleeting time window of access before the data purged itself.

  "FYI: Incident confirmed on Finnish Cluster terrestrial territory. Key stakeholder Lizzie Wolters presumed deceased. Event probability has decayed to forty-six percent. Remain vigilant. Maintain communication silence. Next communication window opens in seven standard hours. Wipe all remnants of this transmission immediately. No confirmation required."

  "Forty-six percent, still far too high to relax about that." a thought sparked in the cold periphery of his mind.

  The message provided a tangible anchor -- a thread he could finally grasp and pull. The pieces were shifting into a recognisable pattern: sabotage. Someone was moving to decapitate a specific project.

  Needless to say, Matthias immediately initiated a discreet deep dive into the Lizzie Wolters profile. Her influence was significant: a fifteen percent voting block and a lead role in classified research related to the gene therapy. The objective was now more clear. He needed to identify the architects of the sabotage, secure any lingering evidence before the cleaning team arrived, and ensure he was the primary forensic authority on-site when the hammer dropped.

  "Forty-six percent... within a seven-hour window," he murmured, the dizziness fading as his veteran instincts took over. His internal state hardened, shifting into the cold, clinical logic of a man who had survived a century of corporate warfare.

  "Which means ..." he continued, his mind running the silent math of a professional gambler.

  "There is roughly a sixteen percent chance of the event occurring within the next two hours." he calculated.

  "I'm only scheduled with the primary investigation group for the next two hours," he noted, a grim realisation settling in.

  "I can't push for an extension without flagging the technical board. Any deviation now would look like anticipation -- and in this business, anticipation looks like guilt." he finalised a flow of thoughts.

  Matthias decided to move. His plan was survivalist in its simplicity: embed himself in the safety and investigation office, find a colleague to engage in a discussion about nothing and everything, and stretch his presence past the two hour window. It was a gamble to widen his window of opportunity without appearing on a formal schedule.

  He boarded a standard rail pod for the transit from his residential structure to the office. The route spanned only a few kilometres, clinging to the inner curve of the Heidelberg's massive rotating drum. It was a journey devoid of scenic wonder; the monorail tunnels were buried just beneath the habitat's inner upper surface, with utilitarian access nodes positioned at every major structure.

  The cabin was a clean, sterile, six seater box -- as unimpressive as it was efficient. In a space habitat governed by automated logistics, the journey was a lonely one. There were a little chance of unscheduled stops, and quite rare encounters with extra passengers, just the faint, rhythmic hum of the rail and the slight, nauseating tug of the habitat's centrifugal force as the pod accelerated through the dark, subterranean veins of the station.

  This time, the cabin wasn't entirely empty. A single passenger occupied the corner seat -- a woman who appeared to have halted her ageing in her mid-thirties. She was striking, with light yellow hair, pale skin, and sharp, slate-gray eyes. Her silhouette was elegant and proportional, possessing a soft, curved grace that stood out against the sterile, boxy geometry of the transport pod. Matthias found himself staring a moment too long.

  "Something on your mind?" she asked, her voice cutting through the hum of the rail pod.

  "Oh -- no, nothing. Forgive me," Matthias replied, recovering his mask.

  "I thought I recognised you. Are you from the bio tech division?"

  "I'm afraid not," she replied calmly, her gaze steady.

  "You've likely mistaken me for someone else. I only arrived twenty hours ago, and I have absolutely nothing to do with bio tech development at all."

  "My apologies. Welcome to the Heidelberg," Matthias said.

  He felt a slight internal thaw; she was a newcomer. If she was fresh to the station, she was unlikely to be a monitor or someone who would remember his face later.

  "Where are you visiting from, if you don't mind my asking?"

  "It's no secret. I'm in from the Munster habitat."

  "Munster? Not a long journey, but a taxing one nonetheless," Matthias noted.

  "True, but my speciality is cooling system engineering," she said with a quick, practised smile.

  "I decided I wanted to spend a few days on a habitat that was actually finished for once."

  "A well-deserved break, then," Matthias replied, checking his internal clock.

  He didn't push further. The math was still running in the back of his mind, and the sixteen percent probability was more interesting than small talk.

  "Enjoy your stay. I have to exit here -- duty calls." he finalised the dialogue.

  The office was half-deserted when he entered; the air was thick with the stagnant quiet of a shift where nothing ever happens. Matthias knew he had to act quickly. His primary goal was to find the shift lead, engage him in a trivial conversation.

  He spotted the lead hunched over a terminal.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Hey. How's the spinning drummy treating you? Anything new on the boards?" Matthias asked, leaning against a console with practised ease.

  "Oh, thanks for checking in, but it's dead silence," the shift lead replied, rubbing his eyes.

  "Everything is running within specs. It's a ghost shift boring to the death."

  Matthias's internal clock ticked. He realised this man would be clocking out in two hours, ending his own group's window of access. He needed a technical anchor to keep him in the room. This lead was a good man for a drink at a local pub, but right now, he was a bureaucrat standing in the way of an mysterious event with forty six percent probability.

  Matthias looked the diagnostic monitors, his eyes was searching for something unusual in the routine. There, on a procedure display, a red flag blinked: a communication array ADS483, was nearing the end of its visual inspection cycle. The certification would expire in five hours.

  "It's boring. Deathly boring, know the feeling," Matthias said, injecting a note of restless energy into his voice.

  "Let's make it interesting. I see the visual inspection on ADS483 is about to expire. Tell you what -- let's play. If during the inspection something will be found, I'll cover your drinks at the pub after the shift. If it's clean, you owe me a round of the good amber. Do we have a deal?"

  The lead's eyebrows shot up.

  "A wager? Why not. It was scheduled for the next shift, but protocols allow us to trigger the inspection up to eight hours early."

  "The game is on, then," Matthias said with a sharp smile.

  "I'm going to grab a drink. You want anything while I'm up?"

  "No, I'm good. Take your time. I will call Mair to do the visual inspection of this communication array, no worries," the lead replied, already pulling up the local comm interface.

  Before making the call, he decided to check the visuals for communication array ADS483. The feed wasn't as clear as usual. Debris, perhaps a broken reflector, lay near the antennae. It looked like a structure, but the low resolution, the camera angle, and the harsh lighting refused to explain exactly what it was. The most obvious conclusion formed in the lead’s mind: just some broken debris.

  "Mair, please proceed to a visual inspection of ADS483 immediately. There's some kind of debris out there," the shift lead ordered calmly.

  Matthias didn't seem interested in the finding; he turned away, his heart rate steady. He had just bought himself an extra twenty minutes in a worst-case scenario, and in the best case, more than an hour of justified presence in the office. If the coin flipped his way, his success became guaranteed.

  Within an hour, the forecasted event began to unfold. The shift lead's eyes went wide as the quiet flow of his final hour was suddenly interrupted; it had finally become something. He was wearing small headphones equipped with a hidden microphone, and what he heard was completely unexpected:

  "I need assistance here -- an investigation crew, and... undock a shuttle to place near the communications module,"

  "Sending an emergency crew immediately. ETA is fifteen standard minutes," the lead replied to the request.

  He tapped his terminal quickly to muster the emergency team, then moved to the shuttle call.

  "Shuttle undocked. The operator is on their way to the control room," he continued.

  Then he looked up, a grin spreading across his face.

  "Hey Matthias! Prepare your credits -- I win the game!" he shouted with a touch of satisfaction.

  Matthias hadn't expected the game to end at such a fast pace. He walked over to the lead's station immediately.

  "Oh? And what did the winner find?" Matthias asked with a friendly, joking tone.

  "Long story short -- I spotted some garbage on the site, and Mair just confirmed it by requesting an investigation team. They're on the way," the lead answered, clearly intrigued by his own luck.

  Now, both of them were focused on several video streams: one from Mair's suit camera, a second from the array's observation point, and a third -- a real-time feed from the approaching shuttle. At first, they saw something that looked like junk -- formless, just a mess of random light reflections.

  But as Mair drew closer to the object, all their attention shifted to his suit camera. Now it was clear: it was a structure. It had a low-signature design, where a highly reflective surface was mixed with a perfectly black, light-siphoning material. Mair wasn't concerned with the show he was broadcasting; the next thing he noticed was exactly what the viewers saw -- a standard data cable connected directly to the structure.

  "I... haven't seen any debris quite like that..." Matthias whispered, sounding genuinely nervous.

  "That's a double prize... I guess..." the shift lead replied, his voice thick with shock.

  "Moving to the maintenance panel to inspect the connection point," Mair said.

  His breathing was heavy, but he continued to narrate his actions as he moved toward the panel.

  "Emergency crew ETA is two standard minutes, shuttle ETA is four minutes," the shift lead added, trying his best to keep Mair calm.

  "Opening the maintenance panel for ADS483 now..." Mair continued, his breath hitching in the suit's microphone.

  Then, suddenly, the video stream cut out. The viewers weren't able to see exactly which socket the cable led to before the screen went dark. Just a few seconds later, the feed resumed, but it was a chaotic mess -- Mair was spinning helplessly in the vacuum of space.

  Both spectators in the safety office quickly switched to the shuttle's video stream. The pace of events was incredibly fast, but there was just enough time for Matthias to recognise his next move: Mair was safe, but more importantly, the shuttle had collected several pieces of the unearthly structure. One of those fragments was exactly what he intended to deliver to the Technat.

  ***

  While Matthias was settling in the safety and investigation office, the attractive woman he had seen during his short trip in the rail pod was making her way toward the central communication structure. It was an array of different buildings linked together like a sophisticated forest of antennae and dishes -- a fascinating design that spoke clearly to the architecture's singular purpose.

  She was in a hurry, desperate to get into the office as quickly as possible. She fumbled for her key card, searching every pocket before finally finding it. But there was a cost; in her haste, she lost the visual badge she had used at the conferences -- a simple piece of semi-transparent polymer that displayed her name and position: "Anni Wyde, Lead Cooling System Engineer."

  She slipped quickly into one of the communication rooms, opened her personal terminal, and typed:

  "I have identified the Technat spy. Monitoring communication activity now. Expect a report within two standard hours, or sooner if anything happen."

  ***

  The shift lead and Matthias were both deeply shocked by the event, but their years of training and expertise left no room for hesitation. There was no time for reflection; the situation demanded immediate action.

  "I'm heading over to the investigation facility to wait for the evidence. Everything needs to be listed and accounted for," Matthias said, his voice lowering.

  "And I truly hope Mair didn't sustain any serious injuries."

  He paused, then added, "Is there anything else you need me to do here?"

  "Ah, nope, you're exactly right. But my best guess is that Mair is out for a while; after an event like that, he's going to need some time. Also, one more thing -- our shift has to complete the initial report, and yes, that list you mentioned. Sorry, but you'll be getting off-shift later than expected. And... yes, please come back here afterwards. The amber liquid is definitely required today, hope you are in," the lead replied.

  "Agreed," Matthias answered. "We'll take a few to Mair's health later."

  It was exactly what the Technat spy needed. He was going to steal one piece of the strange exploded structure, and this fragment would never make it into the official report -- after all, he was the one writing it. He glanced out the window; everything looked calm, but he knew the remnants of the structure were already being transported somewhere within the habitat. All he needed now was patience.

  The walk to the investigation section wasn't long. As he moved, he sent a message via a secured channel:

  "Position in the primary investigation group secured. Object will be in my possession soon."

  "Object... it's not just an object," he thought, the realisation sparking.

  "It's a piece of a structure. The material... it's strange. I'd guess it's a composite of some kind."

  Upon arriving at the investigation section, his first task was to allocate an evidence room for the accident; the second was to wait for the delivery. He easily secured a room, opened it, and sat down to wait. But his solitude was quickly interrupted by a message:

  "Agents assigned to the case. Collect the sample as soon as possible. Do not get involved in the investigation. Stay low. Report upon receipt."