Kira Dallas's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

Sinclair sat. He talked fast. Red Hills had buried gear under the yard, yes — but the channel underneath it wasn't theirs alone. Someone else was riding the same frequency, and that someone knew Ranger code from the inside. Kira listened, one ear on him, one on Donovan's headphones hissing on the bench. Then the speaker clicked. A voice came through clean — no static, no fumbling. It read off a six-digit string and waited. Donovan went still. "Oh man. That's an authentication code. Current rotation. That should not exist outside HQ." Kira pulled the green codebook from her pack and laid it flat. She ran a claw down the column while Donovan punched the string into the cracked-screen reader beside the tool kit. The reader chirped green. Valid. She matched the cuts in the book a second time, slower. Valid again. Whoever was on the other end had a live key, a working reader, and the patience to use both. "They've been on this line a long time," Donovan said, flat as a field report. "Long enough to learn the handshake. That tends to get around." Sinclair's tail went still. "Friend. That's not Red Hills. Red Hills doesn't have that reach." Kira closed the codebook. The channel wasn't just compromised — it was inhabited. She keyed her shortwave and called Achilles in. Whoever was speaking Ranger from the wrong side of the wire was now her problem, and Kevin's call would have to wait one more hour. The deal she was building rested on a network she no longer controlled.