General Vance raised a hand, cutting Olivia off mid-sentence.
"Sorry. She can get a bit… off topic sometimes," he said, shooting her a look.
Olivia sighed.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
With another wave, the lines vanished, and the burn zones returned to the map.
"Long story short — I found out these zones were created by Tariq."
Zora shuddered.
She remembered that oppressive heat that clung to him… that suffocating pressure in the air.
"About six months ago, though, the zones stopped appearing. That's when I lost him. I can't track something that leaves no trace."
She zoomed into a dense, mountainous region deep in Montana.
"But now… I've caught his scent again. He came back here."
She looked at Zora with a smug smile.
"And I've found him."
With a snap of her fingers, a small camp materialized on the map — nestled among the trees.
"Not a big place. Maybe twenty, thirty people. But our boy's there. I can confirm it — no spider activity for miles."
Zora's heartbeat quickened.
He's been out there… this whole time. As himself.
Olivia stretched and turned toward the exit.
"Well, my job's done. Gotta get back out there and all that jazz."
She waved and sauntered away from the platform.
"H-how are you going to get past the spiders?" Paul called after her.
Olivia just laughed and kept walking.
Vance rolled his eyes.
"She can be quite a handful…"
The map zoomed back in on the EWA and its surrounding area, still coated in encroaching darkness.
"You all heard her. We need Tariq here."
Zora shook her head slowly as he continued.
"Your mission is to bring him back — within a month. That's how long I can hold out here."
He gestured to the writhing black mass covering the camp.
"Terri will give you a single-use room. Once he's secured, use it to teleport straight back here."
Ivory leaned forward, voice sharp.
"What about the people in his camp? If they're only alive because of him and we take him—"
"The safety of this camp is our only concern," Vance interrupted.
"We don't have the space for more refugees."
Paul cut in before Ivory could argue.
"What do you mean not enough space? Can't this Terri person just make more rooms?"
A thick Creole voice boomed across the command center.
"Ahm aw-red-ee stretched tin az eez."
A dark-skinned woman stomped her way up the metal stairs.
"Polaris, meet Terri — the one who makes all the special rooms in this building."
Terri was short — Zora's height, maybe less — with thick braids falling to her waist. She wore a plain brown shirt tucked into Type III military pants, her gray boots clanking as she walked.
With a grunt, she tossed a cube onto the table beside the floating map, then stormed toward Paul until she was standing nose-to-chest with him.
"Yu tink ah can jus wehp up mo' roomz? Dat itz oh so ee-zee?"
Paul blinked and looked helplessly at Zora.
"What is she—?"
"Ahm taw-kin tuh yu, rayt now, naht her."
Paul's face turned red as Ivory silently burst into laughter.
"Okay, that's enough, thank you, Terri," Vance said quickly, as if this had happened a dozen times before.
Terri huffed, stomped away, and muttered under her breath.
"Kon-jur up mo' roomz laik ahm de fay-ree gaw-muddah... wah duz he noh abaa dat…"
Zora stepped forward.
"Sir… is there really no other way?"
Vance looked at her — really looked at her.
And for the first time since she met him a year ago… he looked tired.
"If there was, Zora… we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Zora bit her lip, mind racing.
Mara said something... earlier today… something about a seal...
Then it clicked.
She turned toward the map.
"Sir, I think I might have another solution."
General Vance raised an eyebrow.
"Go ahead."
Zora leaned over the platform, tapping a spot near the camp.
"The woman Tariq was with — Mara — she said something about a seal on their camp. What if… when Tariq is gone, that's what they use to keep the spiders away?"
Vance paused, rubbing his chin.
"That would make sense... but we'd have to confirm it."
He slid the cube across the map toward her.
"Find him. Confirm your theory. Or…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Zora picked up the cube. It fit perfectly in her palm — smooth, light, metallic. There was a small button on top, pulsing gently.
Before she could say anything else—
"Sir, we got word back from the EWA in England."
General Vance's head snapped up.
"And?"
The entire room went silent.
A door slammed open with a loud BANG.
"I'm told you 'ave a bug pro-blum!"
A thick, booming British accent echoed through the command center — unmistakably drunk and way too loud.
Vance placed a hand over his face.
"Oh no…"
Zora turned toward the door — and her jaw dropped.
A massive, shirtless man stomped into the room, every step shaking the floor. His stomach jiggled with each movement, and he sloshed a half-empty bottle in one hand, swigging from it as liquid spilled down his long, braided blonde beard.
"Archie Davies at yer ser-vis!" he shouted proudly, then let out a thunderous burp.
"Jesus Christ," Lena muttered, still sitting on the floor.
"This day just keeps getting worse and worse," General Vance sighed.
Archie laughed — a booming, echoing sound that seemed to shake the room harder than his footsteps.