Episode 4

Chapter 004

"Apparently tomorrow is paperwork with teeth."

By 7:55 the next morning, Simon learned paperwork also had fluorescent lights, vending-machine coffee, and a transfer clerk who looked personally offended by poor people with appointments.

Plainford Transfer Desk sat on the east side of the Frosthaven Commission building, where municipal task files went to become someone else's problem. Simon stood at window three with a medical restriction band on his wrist, a starter-bond tag clipped to his trainee badge, and Eleven sitting beside his boot like a compact lawsuit.

The clerk scanned the tag.

Her expression flattened. "Limited starter-bond status. Medical restriction. No combat authorization. No field escort insurance. No equipment deposit."

"Good morning to you too," Simon said.

Maya stood behind him with a sealed species note. Lydia had come "only to observe," which apparently meant carrying a tablet loaded with enough forms to ruin a career.

The clerk slid the task file back. "Bamboo Facility Intake Audit requires transfer clearance. You do not meet minimum handler status."

Simon tapped the blue line on the file. "The listing says Blacksteel compatibility preferred and risk low administrative."

"Preferred does not mean sufficient."

"Then why did the Commission task board accept my claim?"

The clerk's mouth tightened. "Automated matching error."

Eleven's ears angled forward.

Simon felt the bond-space twitch: irritation, clean and hot.

Not now, he thought.

Eleven glanced up at him.

Simon went still.

He had not spoken aloud.

The bond did not give words. It gave pressure, intention, the shape of attention. But Eleven had felt the warning.

Progress, then.

Painful, inconvenient progress.

Lydia stepped to the counter. "Please mark the denial reason."

The clerk looked at her badge and became more polite by force. "Dr. Quinn, this is routine."

"Then routine can survive being written down."

Maya placed her note beside the task file. "Species signoff confirms B-011 benefits from supervised Blacksteel-specific intake. Denying compatible low-risk audit while allowing disposal-transfer yesterday would be difficult to explain."

The clerk's eyes flicked to the note, then to Eleven.

"The facility filed an update this morning," she said. "They no longer request a Blacksteel cub. They request an experienced bonded beast team."

Simon leaned closer. "After my claim?"

"I don't control facility updates."

"No. You just process them."

The clerk's face cooled. "Careful, Trainee Vale."

There it was. The small threat people used when they had a stamp and not much else.

Simon smiled. "Always."

He opened the handbook to the section Lydia had flagged for him the night before.

"Commission-contracted listings cannot materially change eligibility after claim acceptance unless the risk category changes, the site condition changes, or both parties consent. Did the risk category change?"

The clerk said nothing.

Lydia's tablet chimed.

Maya folded her arms.

Eleven stood.

The clerk exhaled through her nose and stamped the file.

TRANSFER CLEARANCE: CONDITIONAL

TASK SCOPE: INTAKE AUDIT ONLY

COMBAT: PROHIBITED

HANDLER MEDICAL LIMIT: ACTIVE

Simon took the file. "Thank you."

"If the facility disputes entry, you wait for a supervisor."

"Of course."

He absolutely did not plan to wait for the wrong supervisor.

The Bamboo Facility sat behind two fences, a wet gravel lot, and a sign that promised ethical starter-beast development in letters large enough to be suspicious.

Inside the intake hall, twelve kennel lanes ran under skylights filmed with dust. The place smelled of cut bamboo, antiseptic, and old fear.

Simon checked the public board by the entrance.

TRAINING OUTCOMES

BLACKSTEEL JUVENILE PASS RATE: 18%

TRANSFER-OUT RATE: 61%

INJURY REVIEW: INTERNAL

Maya stopped beside him. "Eighteen percent?"

"Is that bad?"

"For wild-caught stress cases, maybe. For Commission starter stock, it's a disaster."

Lydia lifted her tablet. "Internal injury review is not the same as Commission injury reporting."

The facility camera above the board tilted toward them.

Simon gave it a tired little wave.

Eleven stopped at the threshold.

The bond-space went cold.

Simon looked down. "You know this place?"

Eleven's claws clicked once on the concrete.

Maya's voice dropped. "Many rejected Blacksteel cubs rotate through private sites before auction. Some get real training. Some get paperwork."

"Paperwork with teeth," Simon said.

"And invoices."

A facility supervisor in a green vest approached with two security staff. "This audit is closed."

Simon held up the clearance. "Commission task. Intake audit only."

The supervisor barely looked at it. "Outdated claim. We requested an experienced team."

Lydia raised her tablet. "After acceptance. Transfer Desk upheld the original scope."

The supervisor's smile did not move his eyes. "Then you can audit empty lanes. The active training wing is restricted."

"Empty lanes first, then." Simon walked to the nearest kennel before the supervisor could block him.

The bedding was clean on top and damp underneath. The chew marks on the wall were low, frantic, and repeated. A mineral tray sat locked behind a mesh cover, full but unreachable.

Eleven sniffed once and growled.

Maya's face went hard. "That tray is display stock."

Simon touched the mesh latch. "So the paperwork says minerals were available."

Lydia's bodycam light blinked blue. "And the cubs could not reach them."

The supervisor's smile finally cracked. "Do not touch facility equipment."

"I'm not touching equipment," Simon said. "I'm reading your honesty problem."

From somewhere behind the inner doors came a dull impact.

Then another.

Eleven's whole body tightened.

The Index stirred behind Simon's eyes.

[Observed residue: Blacksteel Hardening failure pattern.]

[Multiple juvenile subjects.]

[Environmental fault likely.]

Simon kept his face blank.

The supervisor noticed anyway. "Problem?"

"Depends," Simon said. "Do your empty lanes usually hit back?"

Maya stepped toward the inner door. "Open the training wing."

"No."

Lydia's voice became very quiet. "Refusing access under a Commission intake audit requires a written safety reason."

The supervisor looked at the security staff.

Simon felt Eleven's intent slam through the bond.

Not words.

Recognition.

Anger.

A memory of walls that did not break.

The inner door shook as something small struck it from the other side.

Once.

Twice.

Then a thin alarm light above the door blinked red.

The supervisor swore under his breath and reached for his radio.

The Index opened.

[Emergency behavioral correction opportunity detected.]

[Copy scaffold compatible with multiple Blacksteel juveniles.]

[Host condition: recovery incomplete.]

[Warning: group transfer may exceed tolerance.]

Behind the door, a cub screamed.

Eleven lunged for the training wing.

Simon caught the bond-space thread and stepped with him, medical band flashing red, security shouting, Lydia ordering bodycam activation, Maya yelling his name.

The door lock clicked open.

And every Blacksteel cub inside turned toward Simon at once.

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