Project Prometheus Ch. 81 - Teaser (Patreon)

The quarters they’d been given were, by any reasonable standard, luxurious, and that was part of the problem.

Connor O’Neil stood near the viewport, if it could even be called that, arms crossed, and jaw tight as he stared out at the distant curvature of Talemkha below. The glass wasn’t glass. It was some kind of reinforced composite, layered with a faint energy shimmer if you looked at it long enough. Strong enough to withstand vacuum, pressure… or someone trying to break through it.

He’d tested that theory on day three and didn’t bother trying again.

Behind him, Maeve sat curled into one of the low, sculpted chairs, a datapad resting loosely in her lap. The device cycled through archives, media, historical reconstructions—real Old Earth content. Not the watered-down, algorithm-sanitized garbage most systems pushed out. She should have been thrilled, and she was, at first. Now it just felt like being handed a library… with the doors locked from the outside.

“They’ve rotated the menu again,” she said absently, eyes still on the screen. “Actual sourced cuisine. I think that was… Italian this morning? Or close enough to it.”

“Yeah. Real generous of our hosts,” Connor said without turning. There was no venom in his voice, as that had burned out about two weeks in. What was left was something colder, sharper, and measured. Maeve glanced up at him, studying his posture more than his face.

“You’re pacing again.”

“I’m standing.”

“You’ve been ‘standing’ in three different places in the last ten minutes,” she told him, her voice accusatory.

“Yeah. Because I don’t like not knowing who’s holding the leash,” he said, exhaling through his nose slowly.

Maeve let that sit, because that was the truth of it, as they weren’t mistreated. The food was better than anything they’d eaten in years, and the water was clean, mineral-balanced, and almost perfect. Their quarters were spacious, temperature-controlled, fully furnished, and the entertainment was endless. There were no restraints, no threats, no guards posted in the room, and yet… they were absolutely, undeniably contained.

“Jaesa’s watching,” Maeve said quietly, tapping the side of the datapad. “Not just visually. She’s studying our patterns, behaviors, and stress levels. Probably using some form of predictive modeling.”

“Yeah, I clocked that week one. Military-grade oversight with a polite voice,” Connor said with a faint, humorless chuckle. “Thing is… whoever programmed her? They didn’t build a jailer.”

“No?” Maeve frowned slightly.

“They built a warden who doesn’t want to be one.”

That got her attention as Connor gestured vaguely around the room.

“If this was hostile detention? We’d know it. This?” he scoffed lightly, “This is containment with… restraint.”

“Ethical containment,” Maeve replied with a tilt of her head.

“Exactly.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment, then Maeve sighed, setting the datapad aside.

“I’m going stir crazy, Connor.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Join the club.”

“I mean it,” she pressed, sitting forward now. “This… this is the biggest discovery either of us has ever stumbled onto, and we’re stuck in a gilded room waiting for permission to breathe.”

“I know,” Connor replied, his expression softening slightly.

She hesitated.

“…do you think they’ll let us go?” Maeve asked hesitantly. He didn’t answer immediately, but he didn’t lie either.

“I think,” he said carefully, “they’re waiting.”

“For what?”

“For whoever’s in charge to get back,” Connor stated.

As if summoned by the thought, the room’s lighting dimmed by a fraction and a soft chime echoed, clean and unobtrusive. Connor’s head snapped toward the far wall as a holographic projector flickered to life. Jaesa appeared in her projection, looking refined, composed, and almost serene.

“Connor and Maeve O’Neil,” she said, her tone calm and measured. “You are requested to prepare to depart your quarters.”

“Depart… as in—?” Maeve asked, already on her feet.

“You will be escorted to the bridge,” Jaesa replied. “The Commodore has returned, and he wishes to speak with you personally.”