Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

C lover

I hurried down the east corridor of the diplomatic headquarters, my mind racing as fast as my heels clicked against the polished floor. Goernx's message burned in my thoughts: Secure location. Before he arrives. What could be so urgent that the usually reserved cyborg diplomat would risk a private meeting?

The biolock on Door 7 chimed its acceptance of my palm print, and I stepped into the secure meeting room. Goernx stood by the panoramic windows, his tall frame silhouetted against Nexus Prime's skyline. He turned as I entered, his cybernetic enhancements catching the morning light.

"Thank you for coming," he said, his voice measured as always. But something in his stance seemed to be tenser than usual.

"Your message wasn't exactly something I could ignore," I replied, keeping my tone light despite my racing heart. "Especially with Syntax-7's arrival."

He moved closer, and I noticed his optical sensors scanning the room in a precise pattern. Looking for surveillance devices? "There are. inconsistencies in today's proceedings that concern me."

I pulled out my notebook, a habit that usually helped me focus. "Care to be more specific?"

"Not yet." He paused, those piercing blue eyes with one organic, one enhanced studying my face. "I need to verify certain information first."

Frustration bubbled up inside me. "Goernx, if there's something that could impact these negotiations?—"

"Everything impacts these negotiations, Delegate Belk." He cut me off smoothly. "The question is: what impacts them fatally?"

The word fatally sent a chill down my spine, memories of Geneva threatening to surface. I pushed them back. "You're not exactly inspiring confidence here."

"Trust is a complex calculation," he said, his lips curving in what might have been a smile. "Even more so between humans and cyborgs."

Goernx straightened. "Watch the other delegates carefully today, particularly Chen, Martinez, and Koda. Their behavioral patterns are... concerning."

"What exactly am I watching for?"

"You'll know it when you see it." He moved toward the door, then paused. "And Clover? Be careful who you trust."

With that cryptic warning, he left me standing alone in the secure room, more confused than ever. I glanced down at my notebook, where I'd unconsciously been drawing circles while we talked. The same pattern I'd doodled during the Geneva talks.

The main conference room was already filling when I arrived. I took my usual seat, watching as delegates filtered in. Dr. Chen caught my eye and nodded, but something about her smile seemed off. Was that what Goernx meant?

Syntax-7's entrance changed the room's entire atmosphere. The chrome-plated cyborg diplomat commanded attention without effort, his reputation preceding him like a physical force. I watched Goernx take his position near his fellow cyborg, his expression unreadable.

The morning session proved grueling. Every proposal met with counter-proposals, every concession with new demands. I divided my attention between the actual negotiations and observing the delegates Goernx had named.

"The neural integration protocols must be standardized," Syntax-7 was saying, his metallic voice filling the room. "We cannot accept regional variations."

I leaned forward. "Standardization has merit, but we need flexibility for cultural differences. Perhaps we could?—"

"Perhaps," Dr. Chen interrupted, "we should focus on the security protocols first." She exchanged a quick glance with Martinez. That set off warning bells in my mind.

"The protocols are interconnected," I countered, observing their reactions. "We can't separate them without?—"

A soft chime interrupted me from someone's datapad. Koda checked his device, his expression changing subtly before he schooled it back to diplomatic neutrality. The same pattern I'd seen in Geneva before everything went wrong.

My heart rate picked up, but I kept my voice steady as I continued my point. Across the table, Goernx's eyes met mine briefly. He'd noticed too.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of diplomatic maneuvering and barely concealed tensions. During the lunch break, I retreated to my office, needing time to think. I pulled up the morning's transcript on my holodisplay, searching for patterns.

A knock at my door made me jump. "Come in?"

Martinez entered, holding a datapad. "Delegate Belk, I wanted to discuss your proposal about the neural integration frameworks."

Something about his stance made me uneasy. I gestured to a chair while surreptitiously activating my office's security recordings. "Of course. Which aspect particularly interested you?"

As he launched into a series of technical questions, I noticed his eyes kept darting to my holodisplay. Was he trying to see what I was working on? I casually reached over and minimized the transcript.

"Actually," I said, cutting off his rather circular argument, "I should get ready for the afternoon session. But we can continue this discussion later?"

After he left, I sat back in my chair, my mind racing. Something was definitely off, but what? I pulled out my notebook, flipping through recent observations. A pattern emerged with subtle changes in behavior, unexpected alliances, careful positioning of certain delegates.

My datapad chimed with an incoming message. Unknown sender, but the encryption pattern looked familiar. When I opened it, my blood ran cold:

*GENEVA PROTOCOL ACTIVE - NEXUS PRIME

HISTORY REPEATS

WATCH THE SHADOWS*

The message vanished as soon as I read it, leaving no trace in my system. I sat there, staring at the blank screen, my hands shaking slightly. The Geneva Protocol? They classified that information. How did someone know about it?

I looked up through my office windows at the bustling diplomatic headquarters. Somewhere in this building, someone was orchestrating something potentially devastating. And somehow, Goernx knew, or at least suspected.

The afternoon session was starting soon. I stood, straightening my jacket and checking my reflection. The diplomat in the mirror looked composed and professional, giving no hint of the turmoil beneath.

. After the session, I would confront Goernx. No more cryptic warnings or vague hints. If he knew something about a potential repeat of Geneva, he needed to tell me.