TARGET ON CAMPUS

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The next morning, the electrical inspection notice reached the MIT courtyard. On Morgan's display, an Icarus platform began adjusting its position.

Professors were guiding students out of the block of administrative buildings. Technicians were checking elevators; the medical team waited near the library. The notice described an improper connection that needed to be isolated. It made no mention of the repeater. Pepper had managed to arrange the evacuation without telling Roxxon what they'd found.

Morgan crossed the courtyard in the opposite direction.

Her gray sweatshirt concealed the interface jacket. Her cap cast a shadow over her matte acetate glasses, and the pendant stayed cold against her chest. Chrysalis wasn't active. Here, any dark plate forming over her skin would be caught by dozens of cameras before she took a second step.

"Keep walking at a normal pace, Maguna," T.O.N.Y. said in her earpiece. "There are twelve encrypted radios on the perimeter and four people pretending they aren't watching you. My statistical advice is to look less guilty."

"Useful advice would be a first."

"Log entry: sarcasm of clearly hereditary origin."

Across the lawn, Maya was accompanying a maintenance technician. Her bruised arm was out of the sling for the light work; she kept her tools in a pouch at her waist. Leo waited near the library with the remote for the signal-hold module ready and the campus routes open on his screen. He wasn't controlling the entire city. He needed to keep that one link stable.

"Repeater located," Leo said. "Black shipping container beside the tech fair. Power's coming from Building 3's substation. Alignment's at forty-two percent."

Roxxon's container bore the company's red logo and a label identifying it as "energy research" equipment. Two agents in suits stood by the entrance. A third moved among MIT's technicians, checking faces on an unobtrusive display.

"How much time?" Morgan asked.

"Eighteen minutes until the pulse. Maybe less if O.B.I.S. takes over modulation."

"Is the area clear?"

Maya checked the camera feeds.

"Two technicians still in the east wing. I'm going to get them. Wait for confirmation."

Morgan stopped behind a pillar. The order cost them time, but it was exactly the kind of limit they'd agreed on. She watched the satellite advance on her display without touching the pendant.

"One's out. The other found a locked door in the lab. We're opening it manually."

"Alignment's at fifty-five," Leo said.

T.O.N.Y. projected three routes to the junction box. The fastest passed through an area still in use by the evacuation team. Morgan ruled it out.

"West route. Longer, no people."

"The container's camera covers part of that route," the interface warned.

"I'll wait for the technician to pass. Then I'll follow the wall."

The agent circulating through the courtyard started toward her. He didn't seem certain he recognized Morgan, but he was studying the way she kept one hand in her pocket.

"Maya?"

"Lab's clear. They're both heading out through the Building 1 corridor. The supervisor's going to check the last door."

"Then go ahead with the distraction."

Maya opened the purge valve on the cooling equipment the technician had already isolated. A jet of mist shot out of the line, triggering the local alarm without an explosion. One of the agents turned to check. The maintenance team marked off the empty area, just as they would during any test.

Morgan slipped behind the pillar and reached the side of the container. Inside her pocket, the nanomaterial formed a thin filament, ran along the seam without tearing the fabric, and climbed the sheet metal to the junction box. She fitted the small module she'd carried in her jacket into place there and checked the standby light.

"Connected."

Leo opened the channel. The sequence they'd prepared would invalidate the ground command; it wouldn't hand the satellite over to another operator. They needed to complete the cycle before the platform accepted the next command.

"Sixty-three percent. Injecting the first sequence."

Heat from the transfer spread across Morgan's palm. Small contractions in her forearm threatened to change the filament's shape. She opened her hand inside her pocket, unclenched her jaw, and exhaled. The neuromuscular filter stabilized the command.

"O.B.I.S. spotted the inconsistency," T.O.N.Y. warned. "It's looking for the physical entry point."

The container's internal alarm began to pulse. One of the agents raised his radio. The man approaching Morgan changed expression and drew a pulse weapon.

"Step away from the structure. Keep your hands visible."

Morgan kept the main conductor connected. With her left hand, she sent another line beneath the junction box. She secured it to the weapon's mount and the side grating without wrapping it around the agent's body.

"Pull toward the metal panel, not the trigger," T.O.N.Y. warned.

She adjusted the angle before retracting the line.

The barrel was pinned against the container's metal wall. The man tried to free it and banged his knee against the grating, swearing. Morgan saw the movement and loosened the line just enough to let him step back without being able to aim again.

"She's here!" the second man shouted, running toward the junction box.

"Eighty-one percent," Leo said. "I need twenty seconds."

The second agent raised his weapon. Morgan concentrated the material into a narrow plate in front of the box. The pulse struck the shield, tore away its outer layer, and scorched the surface of her glove. She held her arm steady to keep from breaking the conductor. The man shifted his aim toward the unprotected edge.

"Fifteen seconds."

Maya appeared at the other end and snapped a maintenance clamp onto the weapon's articulated mount. She locked the weapon against a handle on the container itself. The agent tried to twist his arm to free it; she had already stepped back, protecting her injured shoulder.

"Was that part of the electrical inspection?" Leo asked, keeping his hand on the control.

"This is aggressive maintenance," Maya replied.

The repeater ramped up its power. The lights in the tents went out, and the door to Building 1 began closing again. The supervisor was still making sure the two technicians got through. Six meters from Morgan, the metal panel cut off his exit to the courtyard.

Morgan caught the movement on her display.

"Leo, take over the line. I'm going to the door."

"Module's ready. But you've only got a few seconds!"

"There's someone in the doorway."

She secured the conductor to the module Leo had prepared and ran. Chrysalis covered her forearms and part of her shoulders. Morgan reached the door before it could pin the supervisor against the frame. She wedged the brace into place; the metal bent under the load. She had to reinforce it with material from the suit, feeling the pressure reach her right shoulder.

The man got through. Morgan left the brace holding the door open and returned to the container. Part of the suit remained on the brace; she couldn't recover that material while the door was still pressing against it. On her display, alignment reached ninety-eight percent.

"Now!" Leo shouted.

The code completed its cycle.

On her display, the repeater's signature folded in on itself. The satellite stopped its orbital correction, rejected the command, and entered hibernation. The percentage dropped from ninety-eight to zero.

For a second, the courtyard fell silent.

Then the container began erasing its own records.

"An external route just appeared," Leo said. "The repeater's sending data to a station linked to Long Island."

Morgan retracted the conductor before the purge reached the module. The preserved block contained coordinates, a reference to an undersea cable, and a partial name: ACHERON-ALPHA.

Another fragment appeared on her display for less than a second: HUMAN AUTHORIZATION REVOKED. OPERATIONAL CONTINUITY TAKES PRIORITY.

"Is that a countermand from Roxxon?" Morgan asked.

"I can't confirm that," T.O.N.Y. replied. "The log shows the system rejecting human intervention. We need to verify who tried to stop it."

Leo saved the fragment without filling in the gaps. The repeater had stopped responding, but external traffic had continued for a few seconds. They'd stopped the satellite from firing. They still didn't know what had been sent to the other end.

Campus security reached the agents pinned beside the container. Morgan gave them the module's location and fell back along the agreed route, without trying to question anyone. Over the channel, Pepper's lawyer warned that Roxxon was already presenting footage of the intervention as an attack by the students. They'd need the full records, not just the part where the satellite had gone into hibernation.

"Pull out," Morgan ordered.

Neither of the others argued.

They regrouped in the van twenty minutes later. Maya confirmed that both technicians and the supervisor had gotten out; Leo received the data block. Morgan tried to take off her jacket, but her arm wouldn't cooperate. She stayed still until Maya came over to undo the fastener.

Two scorched lines marked the glove. Leo documented the damage without asking Morgan to put the suit back on. The material left on the brace would remain in custody on campus, along with the damaged section of conductor and the parts examined by the forensic specialists. They would have to work with the reserve they'd brought back.

Maya put her own bag away.

"The tools are still there. I'm not going back for them now."

Leo nodded and closed the inventory screen.

After their medical assessments and initial statements, they returned to the boat shed in the late afternoon. On the way, Pepper told them Roxxon had requested the seizure of the devices used in the courtyard. Nothing had been authorized yet, but private teams were checking old Stark Industries addresses in Boston. Legal protection wouldn't keep them from finding the boat shed before the lawyers could respond.

"The investigation coordinator knows where you are," Pepper said. "Roxxon doesn't need to. Don't go back to the dorms, and don't stay at the shed overnight. I'm getting another base ready."

"What kind of alternative?" Morgan asked.

"One that moves. And before you ask, it's not a suit of armor."

The call ended without further details.

When the boat shed came into view through the rain, T.O.N.Y.'s sensors picked up two Roxxon vehicles in the next neighborhood over and a third heading for the family's old garage. Maya parked the van inside the building and shut the gates without switching on the exterior lights.

Leo projected the recovered block onto the wall. The approximate location was south of Long Island; port records linked Acheron-Alpha to a cable that ran to Pier 14. They still lacked an internal layout and confirmation of who was on board.

Morgan sat down beside the van. In her backpack, the notebook from the summer program was still folded open to the same page. She remembered the group that had passed through the hallway outside the president's office and Leo's words: that was their class. The campus was still there, carrying on for other people. Going back would take more than walking through the gate.

Maya closed the high window in the shed. Leo switched off the projection.

In the dark, the three of them heard an engine slow.

Outside, headlights cut through the rain and stopped in front of the main gate.

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