RUNE WATCHES THE BUBBLES RISE AND BURST as he pours water into his cup. The simple action offers a brief moment of calm amid his turbulent thoughts. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the heavy breathing of the new soldier on duty nearby.

The door opens, and the woman from last night steps inside, her heels clicking softly against the linoleum floor. At first, she doesn't recognize Rune, her gaze sweeping over him with the same detached professionalism she displayed before. Rune clears his throat, drawing her attention.

"Ma'am, we met last night. You told me to come back this morning," he says, his voice steady but edged with determination.

She pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she wished the encounter never happened. "Yes. The one with the observational skills," she remarks, a trace of sarcasm in her tone. "Wait here," she adds, turning on her heel and disappearing into her office.

Rune takes a sip of his water, the cool liquid doing little to ease the knot of frustration in his chest. He needs answers, and he needs them now.

Minutes later, the woman reemerges from her office. "Alright, looks like I'll be the one to answer your questions. I'll do the best that I can. Let's get this over with," she says, brusque but not unkind.

Rune nods, appreciating her directness. "Thank you, ma'am. I just need to know why I was cut from the deployment. This is the third time, and I think I deserve to understand why."

She raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "What's your NSDPI?"

"76SDGGCS01," Rune responds, reciting the code by memory as he steps into her office. He notices the subtle scent of lavender, mixed with a hint of freshly polished wood. The air is crisp, almost sterile, mirroring the meticulous order of the space. Files are neatly stacked, and not a single stray paper is in sight—everything in perfect order, a stark contrast to the turmoil he feels inside.

His eyes land on the desk, where a sleek nameplate reads "Lieutenant Samantha Rue, Assistant Operational Coordinator." The nameplate stands out against the utilitarian surroundings, an authoritative presence in the neatly arranged room.

Lieutenant Rue stands over a polished table, her posture reflecting the same disciplined efficiency the room exudes. Rune approaches as she inputs his identification code into a small device on the table's edge. A sequence of holographic screens materializes above the surface, displaying personnel files, mission logs, and classified documents related to Rune's service within the Novos Security Directorate. The images shimmer, responding to her precise gestures as she manipulates the data with ease.

"As you can see," she begins, her tone more focused now, "your record shows exemplary performance in training and simulations. However, decisions for deployment go beyond just skill and readiness."

She swipes through the holographic displays, bringing up a chart that highlights various points. "There are factors like mission-specific requirements, team dynamics, and strategic needs that play a role. For this deployment, your skill set didn't align with the immediate objectives... wait a minute."

Lieutenant Rue pauses, her eyes narrowing as she zooms in on a recent entry in Rune's profile. "It appears there was a secondary review of your file," she mutters, almost to herself.

Rune leans in, his heart pounding. "What does it say?"

She glances up at him, her expression more serious. "You were initially the top candidate. Your skills and performance made you the ideal choice. But after a recent scan of your profile, something flagged you as ineligible."

Rune's frustration builds. "What did they find? What was flagged?" His voice tightens with impatience. "If it's because I have a Yellow, I have a waiver for that."

Lieutenant Rue remains silent for a moment as she digs deeper into the data.

Her fingers dance across the holographic interface, and then her expression shifts—her lips pressing into a thin line as she opens a specific file.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak, Rune's wrist device vibrates softly, projecting a small holographic display into his palm. His eyes flick down to the notification, the tension momentarily shifting as he reads the message from Lowe:

PV3 Lowe, Micah: "Hey man, remember when I said Sara wanted to tell me something? Turns out she's... she's pregnant. We're having a baby. I just... needed to tell someone."

Rune stares at the words, feeling the weight of them sink in. This should be a moment of pure joy for Lowe, but all Rune can think about is how his friend will miss it. He pictures Lowe, filled with excitement and pride, but soon to be torn away by orders that will send him far from home. It's a quiet tragedy—Lowe will be thousands of miles away when his child is born, unable to hold his newborn, to share those fleeting moments that never come back.

The knot in Rune's chest tightens with a mix of guilt and frustration. It's an ironic twist—Lowe should be home, celebrating and preparing for fatherhood with Sara. Instead, he's the one being deployed, while Rune is left behind, excluded once again from the very mission that's taking his friend away.

Before the thought can settle, Lieutenant Rue's voice slices through the haze in his mind. "Private Locke. Focus. I'm not in the mood to repeat myself."

Rune blinks rapidly, snapping back to the present, clearing his throat and straightening his posture as the holographic display dematerializes in his hand. "Yes, ma'am. I'm here. Sorry."

She eyes him with something between impatience and a trace of understanding, then continues, the tension in the room tightening once more.

"It's not your Yellow classification. There was a discrepancy with your security clearance renewal," she says, her voice measured. "Due to a clerical error, your clearance wasn't updated in time, making you temporarily ineligible for deployment."

Rune's heart sinks. This security clearance issue has been a constant obstacle, preventing him from deploying since his first mission. Each time, promises were made to fix it, but nothing ever changed. Before he can voice his frustration, Lieutenant Rue continues.

"But that's not the only issue," she adds. "I've uncovered another anomaly with your initial enlistment and entry rank. It seems your pay grade was recorded as an E0, which is unheard of. Most recruits start at E1 or higher based on qualifications."

Rune stares at the holographic screen in disbelief. "How could something like that happen?"

Lieutenant Rue shakes her head. "I don't know. It's unprecedented. But this mistake might have been affecting your career progression. Specifically, it could explain why your security clearance has been in limbo."

Anger and helplessness flare within Rune. "I'm a third-year soldier. If I don't deploy by the fourth year, I'm out. That's the rules. This isn't my fault, but it's going to cost me everything. How can I fix this?"

Lieutenant Rue's expression softens, recognizing the determination in Rune's eyes. "I understand your frustration, Private Locke. This situation is unusual and unfortunate. I can't make any promises, but I will look into it personally. I'll see what can be done to correct the errors in your file and address the oversight. Leave your contact details with me, and I'll reach out once I have more information."

Rune nods, feeling a glimmer of hope amid the mess. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate anything you can do."

They exchange communication details, and Rune leaves the office with a mix of emotions—still frustrated but now carrying a small measure of hope that things might finally change. This time was different. He learned something new, and he finally spoke with someone who pays attention to detail. But now, with the backdoor embedded into the system, he can dig even deeper, poking at the anomaly she found.

The weight of everything hangs heavy on Rune's shoulders as he steps outside. Across the lot, a bus engine rumbles to life, drawing his attention. He watches as Individual Ready Reserve soldiers disembark, their faces a mix of grim determination and nervous energy as they haul their gear toward the reception building. They're the late deployers, called in to fill gaps, and Rune can't help but feel a stab of envy. Even as replacements, they're part of something he's been excluded from three times now.

A group passes by, one soldier catching Rune's eye. The guy is solidly built, with a no-nonsense look that matches the buzz cut beneath his helmet. He nods in acknowledgment as they briefly lock eyes—a silent gesture of camaraderie, or maybe pity. Rune doesn't return it, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Enjoy your night," he grumbles to himself. "Tomorrow, you're deploying with my friends instead of me."

The irony stings. The thought, casual and detached, digs under his skin like an itch he can't scratch. Those words are a reminder that he's still stuck here while others move forward. The mission will go on without him, but he can't shake the feeling that he's supposed to be out there—part of something bigger.