Shorter.
Then Cameron spoke.
“That report was never validated.”
“It predicts the current telemetry pattern.”
“It predicts one possible pattern.”
“Did you read it in 2017?”
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
Cameron hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Why was it rejected?”
“Methodology.”
“What methodology?”
“Cross-domain modeling outside the qualified heritage envelope.”
Eleanor leaned back in her chair.
“That’s exactly why it matters.”
“Eleanor.”
His voice shifted.
“The man who wrote that report was terminated for security violations.”
“What kind?”
“I can’t discuss personnel matters.”
“You’re telling me to disregard technically relevant analysis because the author was fired, while refusing to tell me whether his technical work had anything to do with the firing.”
“I’m telling you the report did not pass internal review.”
Eleanor looked at the telemetry on her other monitor.
“OBSIDIAN-7 seems to disagree.”
Cameron’s voice hardened.
“Be careful about confusing correlation with validation.”
“I don’t.”
“Then you understand why pulling a former employee into an active classified mission would create unnecessary complications.”
“Are they unnecessary?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor thanked him.
Then she ended the call.
Within an hour, she had Isaac Merritt’s current address.
MERRITT MOTOR & MACHINE.
Harlow, Texas.
She opened satellite imagery.
A small garage.
Two service bays.
Rusting roof.
Pickup trucks.
She checked the address twice.
Then a third time.
That was why she flew to San Antonio.
That was why three black SUVs arrived in Harlow.
Two hours after their first conversation, Eleanor returned to the garage.
Isaac had finished Raymond’s truck.
Raymond himself stood beside it counting cash from an envelope.
“This is too low,” he said.
Isaac closed the hood.
“It’s the number.”
“You spent half yesterday drilling that bolt.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t charge enough.”
“You want me to add a fee for emotional distress?”
Raymond frowned.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Raymond shook his head and handed him the cash.
Then he noticed Eleanor.
“Government?”
Isaac looked toward her.
“Apparently.”
Raymond nodded as though that explained everything.
“If they arrest you, call me.”
“For what?”
“I taught civics.”
Isaac watched him drive away.
The Ford sounded healthy.
Eleanor entered carrying a secure tablet.
“Ready?”
“No.”
She waited.
Isaac washed his hands.
Then followed her to the makeshift table outside.
They spent six hours on telemetry.
Eleanor’s engineers joined gradually.
The first was Adrian Cole.
Twenty-six.
MIT.
JPL internship.
Brilliant.
Polite.
Skeptical.
The second was Grace Nakamura, a structural dynamics specialist connecting remotely from Houston.
The third was Luis Herrera, responsible for propulsion controls.
Isaac did not ask their resumes.
He asked what they had tested.
Adrian showed him the current thermal model.
Isaac studied it.
“Wrong boundary.”
Adrian’s eyebrows rose.
“We validated against flight data.”
“You validated the average.”
“The valve doesn’t fail at the average.”
“Look at transition slope.”
Adrian pulled another graph.
Isaac pointed.
“There.”