I put on another show in Training Facility 7, leaning into a rougher, less precise application of telekinesis. The force is there, but the control is lacking, deliberately so. Maybe they're buying it, because the guards and monitoring show noticeably less interest in me compared to yesterday, their attention shifting elsewhere.

  Afterwards, I make my way toward CDC-4 for evening nutrition. It’s packed when I arrive, the line for nutrition allocation stretching toward the entrance. The stale air carries the usual blend of bland paste smell and body odor, with undertones of industrial cleaner that never quite masks the human scent of too many bodies in too confined a space.

  "This fucking place never changes," mutters someone ahead of me in line. "Same shit paste, same shit routine, day after day."

  I grunt in agreement, scanning the room for useful intelligence while waiting. Marcus's resistance faction occupies their usual tables near the exit, but their attention has noticeably shifted away from me. Shatter's pragmatists control the central area as always, their territorial presence maintained through calculated positioning rather than explicit threats.

  After getting my food I find an unoccupied table near the wall, maintaining my visible neutrality in faction politics. As I force down the bland paste, I notice facility staff entering CDC-4, standard monitors rather than the specialized assessment personnel from previous days. Their scanning devices pass over the room with routine efficiency, showing none of the focused attention I received after combat assessment.

  My strategy is clearly working as intended, my developmental direction has reduced administrative interest to standard monitoring levels. I've successfully made myself boring to the system, creating crucial space for unobserved development.

  I'm halfway through my meal when an unexpected figure approaches, Elara, the telepath with the limiting circlet I met during my first days of independence. Her presence at my table is surprising given my current status as a declining Integration candidate.

  "Mind if I join you?" she asks, already setting down her tray of gray paste.

  I shrug noncommittally, continuing to eat without interruption.

  "Interesting development pattern you're displaying," she comments after a moment of silence. "Most independents either advance consistently or deteriorate. To suddenly shift developmental direction is unusual."

  What? How does she know? Is it her telepathic abilities? Is she reading my mind right now? I maintain neutral expression while constructing mental barriers against potential reading, another application of telekinetic energy focused inward rather than outward.

  "Just hit a point where progress slowed," I respond casually. "Without sponsor intervention, development paths tend to shift instead of following a straight climb.""

  Elara's circlet pulses with subtle energy as she studies me. "Natural development usually follows gradual shifts rather than abrupt constraints. Your pattern looks less like a natural progression and more like an imposed limitation."

  I meet her gaze directly. "Careful with that kind of speculation. Some might consider it invasive."

  A faint smile crosses her face. "Some might consider manipulation of neural pathways invasive as well. Yet here we are."

  Shit. She knows, or at least suspects. The question now is whether this conversation represents threat or opportunity.

  "What do you want?" I ask directly, keeping my voice low enough that nearby monitoring won't pick it up.

  Elara's circlet pulses again, creating a subtle interference field around our conversation. Not complete privacy, but enough disruption to mask specific words from audio surveillance.

  "Information exchange," she replies, equally direct. "I know techniques for masking mental signatures from telepathic assessment. You’ve demonstrated ways to change your mental signature without triggering alerts. Both valuable skills in current facility climate."

  So that's it, she's offering trade rather than exposure. Her telepathic abilities would be significant assets in evading detection, particularly during Integration assessment which likely includes psionic components beyond standard scanning.

  "Why approach me specifically?" I press, still suspicious of convenient offers in this environment.

  "Because you're doing something I thought was impossible," she answers with surprising honesty. "Sponsorships are valuable because they allow directed development of enhancement pathways. You were able to do so without the help of the sponsors. That suggests a method worth understanding."

  I consider the potential benefits against obvious risks. Telepathic masking would add another layer of security to my deception strategy, particularly valuable for protecting my true neural architecture from psionic assessment. The trade seems potentially worthwhile if her intentions are genuine.

  "Consider it," Elara says, rising from the table without waiting for my response. "My quarters, D-327, after final security sweep tonight. Bring the Null if you want, her development pattern shows similar anomalies."

  With that, she returns her tray and exits CDC-4, leaving me to process this unexpected offer. Her knowledge of both my change in neural architecture and Desta's repair work suggests either significant information gathering capabilities or direct access to monitoring systems I hadn't accounted for.

  Thankfully she seems to have taken my surface architecture to my true enhancement pathways.

  I pause, fork halfway to my mouth, as the inconsistencies in Elara's presence suddenly hit me. Fuck! I'm getting sloppy. Isn't she sponsored? Why would she be eating in Block D's nutrition center? And how could she possibly know about Desta's "development pattern" when Nulls are classified specifically because they don't develop?

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Something doesn't add up.

  I set down my utensil and scan the room more carefully. The facility monitors continue their routine surveillance, showing no particular interest in Elara's brief visit to my table. That itself is suspicious, a sponsored telepath entering independent territory should trigger at least basic security protocols.

  Unless she's not what she appears to be.

  I finish my meal quickly, my mind racing through possibilities. Either Elara has indeed broken from sponsorship without my knowledge, or she maintains sponsored status with unusual movement privileges similar to Helena. Neither explanation fully accounts for her knowledge of Desta's situation.

  For Elara to reference Desta's "development pattern" means either she has access to monitoring systems far beyond standard classification awareness, or she's detected our neural repair work through some other means. Both possibilities represent significant security concerns.

  I dump my empty container in the recycling unit and head for the exit, deciding to follow Elara and figure out what the fuck is going on. Her inconsistencies are too dangerous to ignore, sponsored telepaths don't just wander into independent blocks, and they definitely don't know about Null "development patterns" that shouldn't exist.

  Once in the corridor, I extend my telekinetic awareness outward, scanning for her unique energy signature. Each enhanced human emits distinct patterns, like energetic fingerprints that my abilities can track. Telepaths have particularly distinctive signatures, their brains constantly emitting the subtle frequencies used for mental communication.

  There, about thirty meters ahead, moving toward the eastern sector of Block D. Her energy signature pulses with steady rhythm, the limiting circlet creating a recognizable distortion pattern around her neural outputs.

  I follow at a safe distance, using my telekinetic senses rather than direct visual tracking. I also scramble my tracker for good measure, in case it gives me away. The corridor branches into multiple pathways, other independents moving between their assignments creating useful cover for my pursuit. I stay just close enough to maintain awareness of her signature without risking detection if she happens to glance back.

  Elara doesn't head toward D-327 as she claimed. Instead, she takes an unexpected turn toward a maintenance access point that should be restricted for standard independents. Without hesitation, she places her palm against a scanner that pulses green, allowing her entry to a service corridor that connects different facility sectors.

  Interesting. Either she has higher security clearance than her apparent status suggests, or she's hacked the access system. Both possibilities raise further questions about her true identity and purpose.

  I wait fifteen seconds before approaching the same access point, extending my awareness to check for security presence beyond. Finding none, I focus my telekinetic energy on the scanner, subtly disrupting its internal components just enough to trick it into registering an authorized entry. The panel pulses green, granting me access.

  The passage beyond is dimly lit, utilitarian metal walls lined with conduits and piping. I move silently, tracking Elara's energy signature as it grows fainter with distance. She's moving quickly, with the confidence of someone familiar with these restricted pathways.

  The service corridor extends for nearly a hundred meters before branching into multiple routes. Elara takes the path leading upward - toward administrative sectors rather than deeper into independent territory. Her movement patterns suggest purposeful navigation rather than wandering exploration.

  I follow cautiously, maintaining telekinetic awareness of potential security measures. The upper levels typically have more sophisticated monitoring than independent blocks, making detection increasingly likely the further we ascend.

  After several minutes of pursuit through winding service passages, Elara's signature enters what appears to be a small chamber off the main corridor. I approach carefully, extending my awareness to map the space before risking closer proximity.

  The room contains communications equipment - not standard facility technology but something more sophisticated. Elara's energy signature indicates she's interfacing with these systems, her telepathic abilities somehow connecting directly with the technology.

  I position myself in a maintenance alcove several meters from the entrance, focusing my telekinetic perception to penetrate the chamber's walls. With sufficient concentration, I can detect not just energy signatures but actual movements and even fragments of data transfer.

  Elara stands before a curved console, her limiting circlet removed and held in her hand. Without the restraint device, her telepathic signature pulses with significantly greater intensity. She places her free hand on a specialized interface panel that glows with subtle energy.

  "Report update," she says to no visible recipient. "Asset 7249 shows anomalous development pattern. Neural tracking indicates development inconsistent with previous trajectory. Recommend enhanced monitoring protocols."

  A response comes through some kind of audio system: "Acknowledged. Telepathic assessment authorized for next cycle. Determine whether development represents genuine limitation or deliberate deception."

  Fuck. She's not an independent or even a standard sponsored asset. She's facility security! Some kind of telepathic monitoring agent using false identity to assess potential Integration candidates.

  "Asset also appears to have established connection with Null subject N-4186," Elara continues. "Proximity patterns suggest unauthorized interaction beyond assigned labor cooperation. Recommend surveillance upgrade for both subjects."

  "Approved," responds the disembodied voice. "Implementation timeline?"

  "Next rest cycle," Elara replies. "Subject believes meeting scheduled in D-327. Will initiate comprehensive scan when subject arrives."

  A fucking trap. She planned to get me to voluntarily submit to telepathic scanning under the pretense of teaching me protection techniques. The entire interaction in CDC-4 was calculated to manipulate me into exposing myself to direct psionic assessment.

  "Circlet deactivation period expiring," the voice reminds her. "Maintain cover protocol until assessment complete."

  Elara replaces the limiting device on her forehead, its energy field immediately constraining her telepathic output to the level I've observed in our previous interactions. The disguise is clever, appearing to be limited by the same control devices used on sponsored assets while actually using them as cover for surveillance operations.

  I withdraw my awareness carefully, ensuring no trace of my telekinetic scanning remains detectable. The knowledge gained is invaluable but incredibly dangerous, facility security isn't just passively monitoring for Integration candidates, they're actively using disguised operatives to identify and assess potential targets.

  I backtrack through the service corridors, returning to Block D through a different access point to avoid potential detection. My quarters suddenly feel significantly less secure in light of this discovery. If Elara represents an entire category of disguised security operatives, the level of surveillance within independent blocks is far more sophisticated than anyone realizes.

  The telepathic trap scheduled for tonight would have completely exposed both my neural camouflage and Desta's repair progress. Direct telepathic scanning would bypass those deceptions entirely.

  I need to warn Desta immediately and develop countermeasures against telepathic assessment. The consideration period for Integration now feels secondary to this immediate security threat.