Site-Ω-7, Central Command – 07:12 Local Site Time
The red phone on the console did not ring. It simply lit up—a single steady crimson glow that made everyone in the room straighten instinctively.
Dr. Elena Voss lifted the receiver before the second pulse.
"Voss," she said.
A voice answered—calm, genderless, anonymized through layers of modulation. O5-7.
"Report."
Voss glanced once at the live feeds: the cell trio still in their uneasy triangle, the AT-TE stationary like a bronze monument in the rift chamber, clone troopers and Foundation operators holding parallel lines thirty meters apart. No weapons raised. No new incursions.
"Situation stabilized temporarily," she began. "Primary entities remain in Holding 4-B. Secondary clone forces—approximately forty visible, plus one heavy walker—are complying with a limited stand-down order relayed through the Togruta and the small green entity. Communication channel is open but monitored. No active hostilities in the last twenty-seven minutes."
A pause on the other end—long enough that Voss could hear the faint click of someone else listening on the line.
"Assessment of containment viability?"
"Poor," Voss answered without hesitation. "The rift is no longer expanding rapidly, but it is stable at current dimensions. Hume anchors are at 142% capacity and climbing slowly. If we attempt full closure now, we risk catastrophic feedback—possible ZK-class reality failure event localized to the site. The entities themselves… they're cooperating because they want to return home. Push too hard, and cooperation ends."
Another pause.
"Casualties to date?"
"Seventeen security personnel injured, four deceased. Three MTF wounded. Clone side—estimated six to eight incapacitated, no confirmed fatalities."
"And the armored entity—SCP-████-1?"
Voss's eyes flicked to the cell feed. Vader had not moved in nearly fifteen minutes. Just standing. Breathing.
"He is the fulcrum," she said carefully. "Everything pivots around his restraint—or lack of it. The small one dampens. The Togruta mediates. But if he decides we are no longer useful…"
She let the implication hang.
O5-7's voice returned, measured.
"Directive: maintain current stasis. Do not attempt rift closure without explicit O5 approval. Expand the dialogue window—remove time limit on monitored communication. Offer limited resource exchange: medical supplies for their wounded, potable water, ration packs. In return, request detailed technical data on the energy field they call 'the Force' and any schematics related to their faster-than-light travel systems. Frame it as mutual survival necessity."
Voss swallowed once.
"Understood. And lethal force authorization?"
"Remains in effect. Use only if containment perimeter is breached or XK-class indicators manifest. Priority remains data acquisition over termination. We may need these anomalies intact."
The line clicked dead.
Voss set the receiver down slowly. Every technician and analyst in the room was watching her.
She cleared her throat.
"Relay the directive. Extend comm window indefinitely. Prepare humanitarian aid kits—standard Class-B anomalous entity interaction package. No weapons, no trackers. And someone get me a direct line into the cell speakers again."
**Holding Cell 4-B – 07:19**
The speakers clicked with the familiar softer tone.
"Dr. Voss here," the voice said. "We're extending the communication period. No time limit for now. We're also preparing to deliver basic supplies—medical, food, water—to your personnel outside. Unarmed delivery. In exchange, we'd like to ask questions about your… abilities. The Force. How it functions. Any information that might help us stabilize the rift and send you home safely."
Ahsoka looked toward the glass first.
"That's… generous," she said. "We'll take the supplies. As for the Force…" She glanced at Yoda.
The small Jedi Master inclined his head.
"Explain, we can. In part. But understand fully… few ever do."
Vader spoke without turning.
"You seek power without price," he said. "There is always a price."
Dr. Voss's voice remained even.
"We're not seeking power. We're seeking survival. Yours. Ours. Everyone caught in this."
Silence followed—long, contemplative.
Then Yoda spoke, voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of finality.
"Life creates it. Makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us… binds us. Luminous beings are we. Not this crude matter."
A small, tired smile touched Ahsoka's lips at the familiar words.
"But crude matter still bleeds," she added quietly. "And right now, both our sides are bleeding."
On the rift chamber feed, the first Foundation aid team approached under white flag—two security officers pushing a rolling cart stacked with sealed crates. A clone sergeant met them halfway, inspected the contents briefly, then nodded.
Crates changed hands.
No shots fired.
In the cell, Ahsoka exhaled.
"They're accepting it," she said. "That's something."
Yader's helmet tilted slightly toward the monitor.
"For now."
Outside the rift, the whine of repulsorlifts had not ceased. It had only grown steadier—patient, waiting, like a heartbeat in another universe.
The quiet held.
But fractures were forming beneath it—small, invisible, patient as stone wearing under water.
**End of Chapter 10**