Chapter 3

The SkyDome Biodome (Nigel had already commented on the redundancy) rose from central Nairobi like a living jewel. A vast, transparent hemisphere arched over layers of curated ecosystem—miniature wetlands, terraced savanna grass, flowering canopy trees woven with elevated walkways. Above it all, the evening sky deepened into indigo, stars beginning to pierce the horizon beyond the dome’s curvature.

Inside, thousands of suspended light-points mimicked constellations. And beneath them, Zora’s Aurora took the stage.

Natalia counted them in—sharp, precise taps of her sticks. Brian’s keys rolled in smooth and low. Brax’s bass settled like a heartbeat. Zora’s rhythm guitar shimmered across the biodome’s natural acoustics as she stepped into the spotlight.

“Good evening, Nairobi!” she called, voice echoing cleanly through the engineered canopy. “We were told this place is self-sustaining. Try not to break it.”

The crowd laughed—an elegant mix of conservation donors, tech magnates, Federation officials, and curious locals.

Agent Daniel Njoroge stood near the perimeter security station, posture straight, eyes scanning methodically.

Sophie watched him briefly from her position near the auxiliary synth rig.

Then she looked up.

At first, it was nothing. Just a movement in the upper airspace—where maintenance drones usually hovered near the biodome’s structural supports.

But this drone moved differently. Not along the marked maintenance grid. It dipped lower, paused, rotated slightly—its lens glinting faintly in the stage lights.

Sophie narrowed her eyes.

The band surged into the chorus. Zora’s voice climbed. Natalia’s drums thundered.

Sophie slipped a discreet retinal overlay into place and zoomed her focus.

Two more drones. Unmarked. Running a pattern inconsistent with venue security protocols.

Her pulse ticked up.

She tapped twice on the inside of her wristband, activating a low-level scan. The drones pinged back encrypted telemetry signals—not Federation standard.

And obviously, not SkyDome standard.

Zora, mid-verse, noticed the slight change in Sophie’s posture. That was enough. She pivoted toward the center of the stage with exaggerated theatrical energy, as Sophie proceeded to lay down her guitar solo.

“All right, Nairobi,” Zora said when Sophie’s last riff concluded, “who here has ever tried to sneak something past airport security?”

A ripple of laughter.

Daniel’s gaze shifted—briefly distracted.

Good.

Sophie set her guitar on its stand and discreetly slid backward from her station as Brian took over with a keyboard solo of his own. She ducked behind a decorative foliage wall lining the stage’s rear corridor. She’d have to be lightning-quick.

There—a maintenance panel embedded beneath the biodome’s irrigation display. She crouched and popped it open with practiced ease.

Inside, a clean fiber node pulsed with soft green light.

She connected her portable interface.

Up on stage, Zora launched into an improvised monologue.

“You know,” she told the audience, pacing dramatically, “we once tried to smuggle an air horn onto a lunar shuttle. Security was not amused.”

Brian nearly missed a chord. Natalia bit back a laugh mid-fill.

Daniel’s jaw tightened, but his attention remained fixed on the stage—exactly where Zora wanted it.

Back at the panel, Sophie’s screen populated rapidly.

Internal drone registry.

Authorized devices: six.

Active devices in airspace: nine.

Three unregistered.

She isolated their signal threads. They were not merely observing. They were transmitting.

Outbound packet flow mapped to an external server node—masked through layered proxies but anchored locally within Nairobi.

Sophie drilled deeper. A secondary data stream branched from the drones toward a venue subnetwork labeled “Wildlife Logistics – Exhibit Archive.”

Her breath stilled. She followed it.

The interface resolved into transport documentation—relocation manifests tied to conservation exhibits.

Animal species: Lion. Leopard. Cheetah.

But the genetic identifiers embedded in the files didn’t match known wildlife databases. They were altered. Hybrid codes.

More alarming: several manifests marked as “completed relocation” corresponded to animals that did not exist in any verified sanctuary registry. Falsified. Not just movement. Manufacture.

A chill slid down Sophie’s spine.

On stage, Zora raised her arms wide.

“Hit it!”

The band crashed back into the chorus, sound surging upward into the biodome canopy. Sophie quickly copied the data set to encrypted storage. She rerouted a quiet probe into the outgoing transmission channel, tagging its destination signature.

One of the rogue drones drifted lower—almost as if reacting.

Sophie withdrew her interface just as footsteps approached down the maintenance corridor. A SkyDome security officer rounded the corner.

“Ma’am, this area is restricted—”

Zora’s voice rang out from the main floor, suddenly much closer.

“Officer! Quick question!”

The guard turned instinctively. Zora had hopped offstage and was striding toward him, microphone still in hand.

“Yes?” he asked, momentarily thrown.

“Hypothetically,” Zora said earnestly, “if someone were to attach disco lights to one of your drones—purely hypothetical—would that violate local ordinances?”

The officer blinked.

“Yes.”

“Even if they were very tasteful disco lights?”