"Until Miss Reina returns," Rynne said, guiding him down another curved passageway—this one quieter, shielded from the main command floor by a layer of sigil-stabilized paneling—"you're to remain inside the base. No external assignments will be authorized. Once she's debriefed and reassumes operational command, your mission queue and Adept-class placement will be finalized."
Astron nodded once.
That was expected.
She led him through a final reinforced door—a seamless plate that peeled open as the embedded system recognized his psion trace.
Inside was his new space.
Clean. Spacious. Designed for function more than comfort, but with clear signs of its elevated classification. A wide work console occupied one side, flanked by walls lined with containment shelves and gear seals. The bed was tactical-grade, with psion-threaded memory lining. The lighting was ambient and adjustable—anchored to a silent core crystal embedded in the ceiling.
