Excerpt
The badge reader took three seconds. Daymund counted them.
One. The credentials Gel had built from six weeks of contractor filings and two borrowed compliance certifications sat inside a card the size of his thumbnail. Two. The reader's indicator light held amber. Three. Green.
He walked through.
Behind him, Zeke's footsteps came at the right interval—not too close, not hanging back the way a nervous man hung back. Daymund didn't look.
Overhead lighting at full spectrum, no shadows worth hiding in, floor panels that broadcast every footstep back up through the soles of your boots. Veyran administrative space was full of corridors like this. The Federation called it transparency architecture in the procurement documents. What they meant was: you are seen.