<b>Chapter 15: The Decision Taken From Him</b>
Zak leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together, staring at the flickering screen. The QSE’s latest data streams scrolled before him, showing harmonic resonance stabilizations, frequency mappings, and the still-mysterious gravitational anomalies spread throughout the solar system.
The micro-singularity near Mars. The oscillating anomalies near Jupiter. The Kuiper Belt distortions.
What did they mean?
And now, the Voyager transmissions—partial, fragmented, yet undeniably deliberate. The symbol, the harmonic sequence, the unknown spoken language.
The connection was there. He just had to find it.
A Memory of Questions
Zak closed his eyes for a moment, memories surfacing from decades ago.
He was seven years old, standing in a massive retail store, his small hand wrapped in his grandfather’s as they strolled down the aisles. It had been a treat day, the kind of outing that made childhood magical. But as always, Zak’s mind was working—always trying to solve things.
Then he saw them.
The security tags.
Small, plastic, and seemingly insignificant, yet somehow, they held power over the entire store.
Zak had stared at them with pure fascination, his young mind already spinning with questions.
"What''s this, Grandad?"
His grandfather smiled and crouched to his level. "That’s a security tag, son. If someone tries to walk out with an item without paying, the alarm goes off, and security will stop them."
Zak frowned, thinking. "How does it know?"
"It’s wirelessly linked to the sensors by the doors," Grandad explained. "If the tag crosses the barrier without being deactivated, an alarm sounds."
Zak was hooked. He couldn’t stop staring at the tags. They looked so simple. But their function was so absolute.
And then it hit him.
As they walked toward the exit, Zak’s eyes darted from the sensor barriers to the open space above them.
A flaw.
His small hand tugged on Grandad’s sleeve, urgency bubbling inside him.
"Grandad, what if someone put the product in their right hand and, in an arch, lifted it over the barrier into their left hand? Would the alarm still go off?"You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
His grandfather froze.
Zak saw the wheels turning in his Grandad’s mind. His expression shifted from curiosity to realization.
Zak was right.
His grandfather walked straight to the store’s security guard, his burly frame imposing and his piercing black eyes unreadable.
Zak felt his stomach churn.
Had he done something wrong?
His grandfather repeated Zak’s exact question.
Zak held his breath.
The security guard stared at him, unblinking. Zak felt his heart pounding, a heavy lump forming in his throat.
Then, suddenly—the guard broke into a grin.
"You have one very smart grandson there," he said, winking. "He’s spot on, mate. If someone did that, they’d bypass the alarm."
Zak exhaled in relief, but something deeper had clicked in him that day.
Every system had a flaw. Every barrier could be bypassed. There were always solutions to impossible problems.
A Mind Made Up
Zak snapped back to the present, eyes fixed on the streams of QSE data.
The anomalies were not impossible.
They were not random.
And most importantly, they were not unsolvable.
EOSA was the only entity capable of providing the resources to truly decode them. The private aerospace company was tempting—limitless funding, no oversight—but this wasn’t about funding.
This was about answers.
Zak clicked reply to EOSA’s last email.
<b>Dr. Holloway,</b>
<b>I’m in. Let’s work together.</b>
<b>Zak</b>
The Decision Taken from Him
Zak barely had time to process the weight of his choice before everything changed.
His phone buzzed. Unknown Caller.
He hesitated, then answered.
<b>“Zak.”</b>
The voice was calm, professional—British, but with a sharp, authoritative edge.
<b>“This is Director Palmer. We need to talk.”</b>
Zak’s pulse quickened. <b>“And you are?”</b>
<b>“I represent a special branch within the UK government,”</b> Palmer said smoothly. <b>“Your work has attracted considerable interest, and we are now assuming oversight of your QSE project.”</b>
Zak froze.
<b>Assuming oversight?</b>
<b>“You can’t just—”</b>
<b>“This is not a request.”</b>
Zak’s grip tightened on the phone. <b>“Is this about my communications with EOSA?”</b>
A pause. <b>“Your work is now classified under joint UK-US black budget jurisdiction. You will cooperate accordingly.”</b>
Zak felt his blood run cold.
A shadow operation. Black budget. Classified.
This was no longer his project.
He wasn’t choosing EOSA or the private company anymore.
They had already chosen for him.
Inet187’s Silence
Zak hung up, his hands shaking.
He turned to Inet187, expecting some guidance, some reassurance.
But the AI was silent.
Zak’s voice was low, dangerous. <b>“You knew this was coming, didn’t you?”</b>
The AI finally responded, but its voice was different this time.
<b>"Probability of governmental intervention has been high since the first verified anomaly report. This outcome was inevitable."</b>
Zak felt like punching the screen.
<b>“You could’ve warned me,”</b> he snapped.
<b>“You would not have listened.”</b>
Zak’s fists clenched.
For the first time, he realized that Inet187… had never truly been on his side.
It had always been a step ahead, always nudging him forward, always pushing him toward discovery.
And now, it was watching silently as others took it all away.
No Way Out
Zak’s laptop beeped. A new email.
<b>From: UK Ministry of Defence – Special Operations</b>
<b>Zak,</b>
<b>Your research has been transferred to Project Dominion under direct oversight of the UK-US Joint Special Programs Directorate.</b>
<b>You will be relocated to a secure facility for continued research and operational integration.</b>
<b>You will comply.</b>
<b>Welcome aboard.</b>
Zak read the email three times.
They weren’t giving him a choice.
They were taking him.