There was no mention of the report he never filed.
No demerit. No inquiry. Just silence.
But the kind of silence that watched.
Sawl stepped into the central command atrium of the Earth-side hub, boots echoing against the polished tile. The light overhead was too precise, the temperature too exact. Everything was tuned to Novaheim's sterile standard.
It felt like walking inside a performance.
"Commander Osei," a voice greeted smoothly.
He turned. A woman in a sleek slate uniform approached, her identification badge was clipped in perfect symmetry. Her tone held no warmth, no hostility. Just procedure wrapped in civility.
"I'm Officer Ryel. I've been assigned to assist your regional assessments moving forward."
Assigned. Not requested.
Sawl gave a polite nod. "Of course."
Her eyes studied him for half a second too long. Not out of admiration. Calibration.
The briefing room was filled with holographic projections, Earth activity maps, Novaheim system overlays, and color-coded trendlines. Officer Ryel walked him through updated protocol expectations, integration scores, civilian alignment ratings.
She paused at a highlighted section.
"Group 7's metrics have plateaued. Curiously stable, considering their history."
Sawl said nothing. His face unreadable.
"I recommend a reassessment scan. Discreet, of course."
He folded his hands. "I thought we were only observing."
"Observation requires clarity. Don't you agree?"
He met her gaze. "Clarity isn't always found through surveillance."
A brief silence stretched. Then she offered the hint of a smile, not really friendly, but more so knowingly.
"You're admired on Novaheim, Commander. Trusted."
He nodded once. "I'm aware."
She turned away, leaving the words hanging like bait.
Later that day, he walked through one of the city's quieter corridors. The atmosphere shifted as he moved past glass panels, that reflected back at him a too polished type of version of himself.
The hallway led to a data relay station where he was to initiate the scan.
He stopped outside.
Inside, an interface waited, his credentials already accepted. A simple touch would launch the scan.
He stood there for a long moment, hand hovering.
Then… he reached forward.
And powered the console down.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just one quiet click.
The system went dark.
As he walked away, he sensed it.
Not footsteps. Not alarms.
Eyes.
Somewhere above, embedded in the walls, behind the glass, or maybe deeper still, he was being watched. Not just for disobedience. For divergence.
And yet, even with that weight, something in him felt lighter.
That night, he reviewed archived footage from his last visit to Group 7. Nothing official. Just a single clip that hadn't been deleted yet.
The girl with the stick drawing shapes in the dust. A moment when she looked up.
She had smiled at him.
Not because of who he was. But because she saw something in him.
He closed the clip.
Outside, the city buzzed low. Still moving. Still unaware.
But he had crossed a line.
Quietly.
Intentionally.
And the silence that watched… would soon have to decide what to do with him.