Beyond the Celestial Boundaries

The morning after Marla's unsettling discovery, Cynthia barely touched her coffee. The weight of the previous night's revelations pressed heavily on her, making every sip taste bitter. She sat in the control center, scanning through the latest system reports while waiting for Prometheus and Marla to arrive.

She didn't have to wait long. The door swung open, and Marla strode in, followed closely by Prometheus.

"I ran a secondary analysis overnight," Marla said without preamble, dropping a tablet onto the table. "You were right, Cynthia. The sabotage isn't just limited to the propulsion system. There are hidden modifications across multiple subsystems, and they've been there for months—maybe longer."

Cynthia's stomach tightened. "How deep does it go?"

Marla exhaled, crossing her arms. "Deep enough that we can't trust any recent system updates. Whoever planted this didn't just want to monitor you; they wanted control."

Prometheus frowned, leaning over to examine the data. "So, we're not just dealing with a mole—we're dealing with a long-term infiltration."

"Exactly." Marla's tone was grim. "And I have a strong suspicion that whoever's behind this isn't working alone. The patterns are too intricate. This is coordinated."

Cynthia closed her eyes briefly, then stood. "We need to act. If we don't shut this down now, we might not get another chance."

Lena entered the room just as Cynthia finished speaking, her face pale. "I think we have a bigger problem," she said, holding up her own tablet. "There was an unauthorized access attempt early this morning. Someone tried to bypass our security protocols—and they nearly succeeded."

Cynthia took the tablet, her pulse quickening as she scanned the logs. The access attempt had been routed through multiple layers of obfuscation, making it difficult to trace. But one thing was clear—it had originated from within AeroGallacianSpace.

"They're getting bolder," Prometheus muttered.

Cynthia's jaw clenched. "Then it's time we stopped playing defense."

Marla's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I was hoping you'd say that."

That afternoon, Cynthia and her team devised a countermeasure—a carefully laid trap to lure the infiltrator into revealing themselves. If they wanted to play games, then Cynthia was ready to turn the board in their favor.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a sense of quiet determination settled over them. They were done being hunted. Now, it was their turn to uncover the truth—no matter how deep it was buried.