Say My Name, Alpha
Ironclad did not sleep.
It dimmed its lights, slowed its systems, cycled cadets into enforced rest—but the academy itself remained awake, alert, watching. Every corridor camera. Every biometric sensor. Every Alpha heartbeat logged and categorized.
Zade felt it long before morning came.
The suppression field in his new quarters never fully powered down. It eased slightly during the night cycle, enough to prevent outright breakdown, but never enough to allow comfort. Sleep came in fragments—sharp dreams, half-memories, flashes of instincts clawing for release.