Zora's Aurora 3 - the Serengeti Exchange
Copyright© 2026 by Art Samms
Chapter 4
The conference room lights were dimmed again, but this time the holographic display showed open savanna stretching toward the hazy western horizon. The footage was grainy—captured from one of the unauthorized drones Sophie had flagged during the SkyDome performance. Wind hissed faintly through the recording’s audio channel.
“There,” Sophie said.
She froze the frame.
At first glance, it was nothing but scrubland and scattered acacia. Then the light shifted, and something geometric interrupted the landscape—angles too straight, shadows too uniform.
Zora leaned forward. “Enhance contrast.”
Sophie complied.
The terrain peeled back digitally, revealing faint hexagonal patterning beneath a camouflage mesh designed to mimic sun-bleached grass.
Brian let out a low whistle. “That’s not a storage shed.”
“No,” Sophie said. “It’s an installation.”
A perimeter fence shimmered faintly at the edges of the thermal overlay. Subsurface heat signatures pulsed beneath the earth.
“Underground containment,” Sophie murmured.
The room fell quiet.
They were back in the Federation Operations Annex in Nairobi, but the projected landscape placed them visually along the northern edge of the Serengeti region.
Daniel stood at the head of the table, posture as precise as ever.
“This footage,” he said evenly, “was obtained through unauthorized drone interception.”
“Through interception of already unauthorized drones,” Zora corrected.
Daniel’s expression did not change. “It was not collected under Federation warrant.”
Sophie folded her hands. “Which is why we brought it to you immediately.”
Daniel zoomed in further. The thermal layer sharpened. Multiple large heat signatures moved beneath the camouflaged roofing.
One paused—and then started pacing.
Even through filtered imaging, the size was unmistakable.
“Cross-reference scale,” Daniel ordered.
Sophie adjusted the overlay grid.
Brian’s voice lowered. “That’s bigger than a standard male lion.”
“Yes,” Sophie said quietly.
Daniel studied the image for a long moment.
“This location lies just within protected buffer territory,” he said. “Jurisdiction is shared between Federation wildlife authority and Serengeti international oversight.”
“In other words,” Zora said, “paperwork.”
“In other words,” Daniel replied, tone sharpening slightly, “legal authority is required before action.”
Zora straightened.
“Danny—”
Sophie’s elbow struck her this time.
Zora pivoted smoothly. “—Daniel.”
Daniel’s eyes turned toward her, but he continued.
“If we conduct a raid without warrant, any seized evidence becomes inadmissible. The operators walk free.”
“And the animals stay there?” Zora shot back.
Daniel’s jaw tightened fractionally. “We proceed correctly.”
Zora gestured toward the projection. “They’re breeding engineered predators under a fake savanna blanket. How correct do you need it?”
“Correct enough to ensure conviction,” Daniel said.
Silence stretched.
Sophie rose slightly from her seat, stepping into the tension.
“Daniel,” she said calmly, “we’re not suggesting a raid.”
Zora blinked. “We’re not?”
“Not yet,” Sophie clarified.
She gestured toward the projection.
“Authorize reconnaissance. Limited. Non-invasive. Confirm facility layout. Confirm number of subjects. Confirm biotech infrastructure.”
Daniel’s gaze shifted to her.
“Surveillance only,” Sophie continued. “No contact. No breach.”
Zora frowned, but didn’t interrupt.
“With reconnaissance data,” Sophie went on, “you strengthen your warrant request. Multiple agencies. Environmental violation, illegal gene manipulation, wildlife trafficking.”
Daniel considered this.
Zora folded her arms but leaned back slightly—allowing Sophie the floor.
“We can deploy micro-drones,” Sophie added. “Passive imaging. Soil sampling via atmospheric sweep. No detectable signal.”
Daniel tapped the table once.
“And if discovered?” he asked.
“We withdraw,” Sophie said.
Zora tilted her head. “Gracefully.”
Daniel ignored that.
Brian spoke up. “You don’t want to charge blind into something like that anyway.”
Natalia nodded. “If they’re engineering hybrids, they may have containment protocols we don’t understand.”
Daniel’s gaze returned to the thermal signature—one large shape pacing in a tight arc.
“You believe this is active breeding,” he said.
“Yes,” Sophie replied.
“And not merely storage.”
“Heat variance suggests growth chambers below ground,” she said. “Controlled environment. That’s not transport staging.”
Daniel exhaled slowly. Outside the glass wall, Nairobi’s skyline gleamed under afternoon light—calm, orderly, unaware of what might be gestating just beyond its ecological boundary.
Zora stepped closer to the table.
“If we wait too long,” she said more quietly now, “they move the operation. We’ve already seen how fast they can empty an enclosure.”
Daniel met her eyes. There was no flippancy in her expression now. Just urgency.
“You are asking me,” he said, “to authorize reconnaissance beyond formal warrant.”
“I’m asking you,” Zora replied, “to look.”
A long pause followed. Sophie didn’t move. Neither did Daniel.
Finally, he turned back to the table interface.
“Limited reconnaissance,” he said. “Under DMI supervision. Data shared exclusively with my office.”
Zora’s mouth curved.
Daniel held up a finger.
“No breach. No engagement. No improvisation.”
Zora pressed her lips together in exaggerated restraint.
Sophie answered for them. “Agreed.”
Daniel keyed in authorization codes. The projection flickered, marking the facility perimeter in red.
“Recon window opens at 0900 hours,” he said. “We wait for twilight to fade.”
Zora stepped back, satisfied.
“See?” she murmured to Sophie. “We’re practically procedural.”
Daniel’s gaze shifted toward her again.
“Ms. Zephyr.”
“Yes?”
“If you refer to me as ‘Danny’ during official operations—”
Zora blinked innocently.
“—recon authorization will be revoked.”
A ripple of suppressed laughter passed around the table.
Sophie closed her eyes briefly.
Zora placed a hand over her heart. “Daniel. I would never.”
Daniel regarded her for a long second.
“I hope,” he said evenly, “that is true.”
He dismissed the projection. As the room lights brightened, the map of the Serengeti buffer faded—but the red perimeter line lingered faintly in everyone’s mind.
Somewhere beneath that artificial grass, something engineered was pacing.
And at 0900 hours, they were going to look back.
If Delta had been in the room, she would have been pacing with a headset and three data feeds open. Instead, her voice filled their transport shuttle as it descended toward the Serengeti buffer zone.
“Remember,” she said crisply over comms, “this is a luxury eco-safari. Which means wealthy donors, hyper-sensitive PR optics, and no improvisational heroics unless someone is actively on fire.”
“We’ll try to keep the spontaneous combustion to a minimum,” Zora replied.
“I mean it,” Delta continued. “Acoustic set. Forty-five minutes. Two encores max. Sophie, you are ‘technical support.’ Brian, no suspicious wandering. Natalia, please remain the most responsible adult in the group.”
“Always,” Natalia said gently.
“And Zora—”
“I’m a delight.”
“—you are a delight who is not to antagonize the host until we have something actionable.”
Zora winced. “That’s a very narrow behavioral corridor.”
“Stay inside it,” Delta snapped. “Coordinates for the private performance platform are locked in. Military convoy staging is ten kilometers east, ready if Daniel gives the word.”
“Copy,” Sophie said.
The comm channel clicked off. Zora leaned back in her seat and stared out the viewport.
Below them, the savanna stretched endlessly—gold grass rippling like water, broken only by clusters of acacia and the occasional gleam of solar-paneled structures disguised as luxury lodges.
The safari compound emerged from the landscape like something grown rather than built—wood, glass, and smart-fabric canopy blending seamlessly with the terrain.
At first glance, it was ecological opulence. At second glance, it was fortified.
Sophie clocked the perimeter drones immediately.
“Security grid’s tighter than advertised,” she murmured.
Brian shook his head mildly. “For animal conservation.”
“Of course,” Zora said lightly.
A line of uniformed staff greeted them at the landing platform. At their center stood a tall man in an open-collared linen suit, sunlight catching silver at his temples. Immediately, he introduced himself as Maxim Vorenko. He smiled like he had been waiting for a camera flash.
“Ah,” he said warmly, stepping forward. “Artists among wilderness.”
His accent was difficult to place—continental, smoothed by years of travel.
“You honor my guests.”
Zora offered her brightest performance smile. “We try to honor wherever we land.”
Vorenko’s gaze lingered on her half a second too long.
“I have admired your work,” he said. “A fusion of energy and restraint.”
“That’s generous,” Natalia said smoothly.
Vorenko inclined his head. “You will find tonight’s audience appreciative. Leaders in sustainable development. Philanthropists. Visionaries.”
“Visionaries,” Zora echoed.
Sophie watched him carefully. Charismatic. Effortless.
And something about his stillness felt calculated.
He gestured toward the open-air performance pavilion overlooking a shallow watering basin. Guests in tailored safari wear mingled nearby, crystal glasses catching the sun.
“An intimate acoustic experience,” Vorenko said. “Art in dialogue with nature.”
“Nature’s got good acoustics,” Brian replied mildly.
Vorenko’s smile widened fractionally.
“I find,” he said, “that boundaries between wild and refined are ... fluid.”
Zora held his gaze.
“Yes,” she said. “They can be.”
They set up on the pavilion stage as dusk painted the sky amber and violet.
The set was intentionally stripped down—Sophie on acoustic guitar, Natalia with hand percussion, Brian using a soft synth pad routed discreetly through portable speakers.
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