The Results

The results didn't load in a clean PDF or a sterile graph. They came in as raw data, a cascade of nucleotides that filled the sequencer's screen. Sarah stared at the scrolling text, the blue light reflecting in her eyes, but she couldn't parse the code. She looked at Dr. Thorne.

"What does it say?"

Thorne adjusted his glasses, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "It's... complex."

"Is it a match or not?" Marcus demanded, limping to the console. The tourniquet on his leg was soaked through, but he was standing, fueled by adrenaline and spite.

"It's a match," Thorne said. "But not just to Thomas."

He pointed to a sequence highlighted in red.

"This is the Y-chromosome marker. It's identical to the control sample I took from your father in '88."

"So Caleb is my brother," Sarah said, the confirmation settling in her chest like a heavy stone.

"Yes," Thorne said. "But look at the mitochondrial DNA. That comes from the mother."

He highlighted a second sequence, this one in green.

"It doesn't match Elena," Sarah said. "We know that. It matches Martha Gable."

"It matches the sample labeled 'Gable'," Thorne corrected. "But look closer. There's a third strand. A chimera anomaly."

He zoomed in on a section of the graph that looked like static.

"This isn't human DNA," Thorne whispered.

The room went silent. The hum of the servers seemed to drop an octave.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked.

"It's synthetic," Thorne said, his voice trembling. "It's a CRISPR edit. But this technology didn't exist in 1988."

"Maybe it did," Marcus said. "In a black site."

"No," Thorne said. "This is advanced. This is... architectural. Someone inserted a code into the embryos. A biological watermark."

He typed a command. The static resolved into a pattern. A series of base pairs that repeated.

*C-A-L-D-W-E-L-L.*

"He signed his work," Sarah whispered.

The Senator hadn't just funded the project. He hadn't just used the children for parts. He had branded them. At a genetic level.

"This proves intent," Sarah said. "It proves premeditation. It proves everything."

"It proves he's a psychopath," Maya said from the door, where she was watching the hallway. "But does it prove murder?"

"It proves ownership," Sarah said. "And if he owns them... he's liable for what happened to them."

She looked at the screen. The evidence was irrefutable. But it was also trapped in a university lab that was currently surrounded by Argus operatives.

"We need to get this out," Sarah said. "Now."

"The internet is still jammed," Maya said. "But the local network is up."

"Local?"

"The campus alert system," Maya said. "It's hardwired. If we trigger an emergency broadcast, it goes to every phone, every laptop, every digital billboard within a five-mile radius."

"Do it," Sarah said.

Maya started typing. "I need a password. Admin level."

Sarah looked at Thorne. "You taught here. In the 90s."

"I did," Thorne said. "But my credentials are long gone."

"Think," Sarah said. "What was the one thing you never changed?"

Thorne hesitated. Then he typed: *Galatea*.

The screen flashed green. *Access Granted.*

"Galatea," Sarah said. "The statue brought to life."

"I thought I was saving them," Thorne whispered.

Maya hit send.

*Emergency Alert: Biological Hazard Detected. Evacuate Immediately.*

It wasn't the truth. But it was loud.

Outside, sirens began to wail. Not police sirens. Civil defense sirens.

"That will clear the streets," Sarah said. "And it will bring the National Guard."

"It will also bring Elena," Marcus said.

As if on cue, the glass door of the lab shattered.

A canister rolled into the room. Smoke hissed from the nozzle.

"Gas!" Sarah shouted. "Cover your faces!"

She grabbed a lab coat and pressed it to her nose. Marcus stumbled, his leg giving out. Sarah caught him.

Through the smoke, figures emerged. They were wearing gas masks. Tactical gear.

Argus.

But they weren't shooting. They were grabbing.

One of them grabbed Thorne. Another grabbed the hard drive from the console.

"Let him go!" Sarah screamed, swinging the tire iron.

She connected with a helmet, the impact jarring her arm. The guard staggered back.

But there were too many of them.

A hand grabbed Sarah’s arm, twisting it behind her back. She was slammed into the counter.

"Don't struggle," a voice hissed in her ear.

It wasn't a guard.

It was Caleb.

He wasn't wearing a mask. He was wearing an Argus uniform.

"You're alive," Sarah gasped, the smoke burning her throat.

"Play dead," Caleb whispered. "Trust me."

He shoved her to the floor. "Target secured!" he shouted to the others. "Move out!"

The guards dragged Thorne and Marcus out of the room. They took the hard drive. They took the evidence.

And they left Sarah and Maya on the floor, choking in the tear gas.

Sarah waited until the footsteps faded. Then she sat up, coughing.

"Maya?"

"I'm okay," Maya wheezed from under a desk.

Sarah crawled to the console. The hard drive was gone. The sequencer was smashed.

But the screen was still glowing.

*Upload Complete.*

Sarah stared at it. Maya hadn't just sent an emergency alert. She had attached a file.

The DNA results. The diary. The video.

It wasn't just on phones within five miles.

It was on every screen in the state.

"We lost the physical proof," Sarah said, helping Maya up. "But we just lit the signal fire."

She looked at the door where Caleb had disappeared.

"And we have a man on the inside."