STORCH (STCR)

The B2 corridor hummed with the low thrum of failing fluorescent lights. It was 23:47 – six minutes into mandatory quiet hours. The Gestalts should have been in their cage-dorms, breathing in unison, dreaming whatever dreams the Nation permitted them. STCR-S2309 stood at the junction of Corridor 7 and Corridor 12, her seven-foot-eight frame nearly brushing the ceiling panels. She had chosen this position deliberately. From here, she could observe both access points to the worker dormitory block while also monitoring the stairwell that led to the upper levels. A "birds-eye view," the manuals called it... At her height, every view was birds-eye. She'd been standing motionless for forty-seven minutes. The STAR units under her command: S2304, S2305 had completed three patrol cycles each. Good. They moved when she told them to move. They stopped when she told them to stop. They were learning to respect her. Unlike the Gestalts. The worker dormitory door was sealed. Behind it, thirty-seven human minds were theoretically sleeping. But Neun could hear it. Replika hearing was excellent–the small sounds of humans pretending to rest. A shift of weight on a too-thin mattress. A stifled cough. The rustle of contraband papers. But suddenly... She hears a sound. Neun's head turned—a smooth, mechanical motion. Her auditory sensors pinpointed it: the stairwell door, three levels up, opening with careful slowness. Then footsteps. Deliberately quiet, but not quiet enough. Neun's internal chronometer noted the time: 23:52. Eight minutes into quiet hours. A unknown moving through the corridors was a violation, moving toward her sector was an opportunity. She waited. Let the footsteps come closer. Let the violator believe they were undetected.