A narrow spike.
Almost nothing.
“You discarded that.”
Adrian answered.
“We classified it as sensor noise.”
“It’s phase lag.”
“In the pressure transducer?”
“No.”
“In the structure.”
Adrian looked uncertain.
Isaac drew a quick diagram.
“Sensor sees pressure.”
“Pressure follows regulator motion.”
“Regulator motion follows housing stiffness.”
“Housing stiffness changes with temperature.”
“Your sensor is measuring the final symptom three steps downstream.”
Grace’s voice came through the speaker.
“He’s right.”
Adrian looked toward the screen.
Grace continued.
“If housing modulus shifts during shadow entry, that lag would present exactly there.”
Isaac nodded.
“Now overlay vibration.”
They did.
A second pattern emerged.
Thirty-one minutes.
Three cycles per orbit.
Adrian went quiet.
Isaac understood the expression.
He had worn it himself many times as a young engineer.
The moment when data stopped being abstract and became a physical mechanism inside the mind.
“What are you thinking?” Eleanor asked.
Isaac looked toward the garage.
“I need the original valve drawings.”
“You have them?”
“No.”
“Nexora does.”
“I’m guessing they won’t send them.”
“They will if ordered.”
“That takes time.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“How much?”
Isaac shrugged.
“Depends how angry you’re willing to make people.”
“Very.”
She made the call.
Cameron Ashford arrived in Harlow the next morning.
Unannounced.
Alone.
Rental sedan.
Isaac saw him before he entered.
Some people changed dramatically in six years.
Cameron had not.
Same careful haircut.
Same expensive glasses.
Same habit of adjusting his cuffs before entering a difficult conversation.
He stepped into the garage at 9:40.
The jazz radio played softly.
Isaac was sketching on graph paper.
Neither man spoke for several seconds.
Then Cameron said:
“Good morning.”
Isaac continued drawing.
“Is it?”
“I heard you were consulting.”
“You heard fast.”
“Federal programs communicate.”
“Apparently.”
Cameron looked around.
He had never seen the garage.
His eyes moved over the patched walls, the oil-stained floor, the crates of salvaged components.
“This is where you’ve been.”
“For six years.”
Cameron seemed to consider what that meant.
“I’m sorry about your father.”
Isaac stopped drawing.
“You knew?”
“I heard.”
“Six years ago?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re saying it now.”
Cameron did not answer.
Isaac returned to the paper.
“What do you want?”
“To prevent a bad situation from becoming worse.”
“Which situation?”
“OBSIDIAN.”
“You mean the one I predicted?”
Cameron exhaled.
“I knew this would become personal.”
“You drove to Harlow.”
“You made it personal.”
“No.”
Isaac put down the pencil.
“You fired me.”
“That was a corporate decision.”
“You presented the case.”
“There were security concerns.”
“What security concerns?”