Zora's Aurora 3 - the Serengeti Exchange
Copyright© 2026 by Art Samms
Chapter 5
They did not make it back to the landing platform unescorted. The lantern path dimmed automatically as they exited the inner compound. Too automatically.
Sophie felt it first—a tightening in the network spectrum.
“We’ve been flagged,” she murmured.
Brian looked at her, curious. “Define flagged.”
“Telemetry spike. Our devices just got mirrored.”
Zora didn’t break stride. “How rude.”
Behind them, the soft whir of rotors cut through the savanna night. Not the high civilian hum of hospitality drones, but lower and heavier.
Natalia turned slightly.
Three security drones detached from the perimeter canopy and angled toward them—sleek, matte-black bodies with forward-facing optical arrays glowing faint blue.
“They don’t look like they’re escorting,” she said quietly.
“No,” Sophie agreed. “They’re herding.”
The drones shifted formation, cutting off the most direct path back to the pavilion. A fourth drone lifted from a concealed recess near the breeding enclosures.
“Delta?” Brian said into his sleeve.
Her voice came back instantly. “Already tracking. Vorenko’s internal security net just escalated to containment protocol.”
“Containment,” Zora echoed.
“Leave. Now,” Delta said.
The nearest drone emitted a pulse—brief, sharp.
Sophie’s console flickered.
“EMP burst calibrated for electronics,” she said. “Low yield. Warning shot.”
Zora stopped walking. The others halted instinctively.
“Well,” she said softly, “that’s inhospitable.”
One drone dipped lower, projecting a narrow beam that painted the ground at their feet.
A boundary.
Brian’s voice dropped. “We cross that?”
“It escalates,” Sophie replied.
Natalia’s eyes flashed. “We can’t let them box us in.”
The drones tightened their arc. Wind moved through the grass in restless waves.
A light bulb went off in Zora’s head. She glanced at Sophie’s guitar case.
“How attached are you to that pickup array?” she said lightly.
“Depends on what you’re thinking.”
“Feedback,” she said.
Sophie’s head snapped toward her. “Zora—”
“Directional,” Zora clarified quickly. “Localized acoustic spike. Overload their stabilization.”
The nearest drone dipped closer, scanning.
Delta’s voice crackled again. “You have ninety seconds before Vorenko’s ground team reaches you.”
“Copy,” Zora said.
She grabbed the guitar case and flipped it open in one fluid motion. The acoustic-electric hybrid gleamed under moonlight.
Natalia moved automatically, uncoiling a portable amp from their gear pack.
“You are not turning a safari compound into a concert riot,” Sophie muttered—but she was already adjusting frequency parameters on her wrist console.
The drones advanced.
Brian, now figuratively wearing a guitarist’s hat, strummed once—soft.
Zora stepped forward into the open space between them and the hovering machines.
“Gentlemen,” she said brightly to the drones, “we’re leaving.”
One drone surged forward in response.
Zora nodded to Brian. He hit a sharp, resonant chord. Sophie cranked the gain remotely.
The sound wasn’t loud in the traditional sense—it was precise. A focused, oscillating frequency spike tuned to the drones’ rotor harmonics.
The nearest drone wobbled. Zora pivoted, adjusting angle.
Brian slid into a rising harmonic swell. The air vibrated.
Natalia braced the amp as Zora increased the modulation.
The drone’s stabilization field flickered visibly. Sparks snapped along its undercarriage.
“Now,” Sophie said.
Brian struck a final, brutal chord. The feedback loop peaked. The drone spasmed midair and dropped into the grass with a dull metallic thud. The other drones recoiled, recalibrating.
“Oh,” Zora breathed. “That was satisfying.”
The remaining units shifted to aggressive posture—optical arrays flaring brighter.
“Escalation,” Sophie warned.
A sharp beam lanced toward them—and sliced harmlessly through empty air as something else moved faster.
From the eastern horizon, low-profile tactical vehicles burst through the grassline, silent and swift. Black silhouettes against moonlight.
Daniel’s unit.
Precision shots cracked through the night. Two drones lost lift instantly, falling in controlled arcs. The last one veered upward—attempting retreat. A final projectile struck its core.
Silence dropped heavy over the savanna.
Daniel stepped from the lead vehicle, posture immaculate even in tactical gear. His gaze moved from the downed drones to the smoldering grass patch near Zora’s feet.
“You were instructed,” he said evenly, “to avoid improvisation.”
Zora, for once, considered her reply carefully.
“In our defense,” she told him, “they started it.”
Daniel’s eyes flicked to the disabled drone.
“You disabled that with ... audio equipment.”
Brian closed the guitar case carefully. “Acoustic persuasion.”
Sophie stepped forward. “We have full data extraction from Vorenko’s central terminal.”
Daniel looked at her sharply. “Confirmed?”
“Genetic matrices. Compliance algorithms. Shipment routes,” she said. “Encrypted copies are already mirrored to your secure channel.”
Daniel absorbed that.
His tactical team fanned out behind him, securing the perimeter.
Natalia exhaled slowly, tension finally bleeding from her shoulders.
“You came fast,” she said.
Daniel’s gaze shifted briefly to Zora.
“You said,” he replied, “that delay would cost us.”
Zora met his eyes.
“And?”
“And you were correct.”
It wasn’t a grand admission. But it was real.
Zora’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
“Don’t look so surprised,” she said gently. “We can be procedural.”
Daniel’s mouth almost curved.
Almost.
“You are reckless,” he said.
“Selective recklessness,” she corrected.
He studied the fallen drone again.
“You adapted under pressure,” he conceded.
“And you trusted us enough to move,” Sophie added.
Daniel inclined his head slightly.
“Reconnaissance,” he said, “has now escalated to enforcement.”
In the distance, sirens began to rise—Federation wildlife authority converging on the compound. Zora glanced back toward the lantern-lit structures where Vorenko had stood earlier.
“He’s not going to like this,” she murmured.
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“He does not need to like it.”
Wind rippled through the grass again. The savanna felt different now—less curated, more alive.
Zora rested a hand lightly on the closed guitar case.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “you make a very dramatic entrance.”
Daniel gave her a level look.
“Ms. Zephyr.”
She tilted her head.
“Yes, Daniel?”
His gaze held hers just a second longer than necessary.
“Next time,” he said, “wait for backup.”
Zora smiled—less flippant now.
“Next time,” she replied, “don’t take so long.”
Behind them, the first Federation transport lights cut across the dark. And somewhere beyond the compound’s walls, the engineered quiet of the pens was about to be broken.
The café sat on a shaded corner in central Nairobi, its open windows letting in warm afternoon air and the distant hum of sky-traffic.
It was intentionally neutral territory. No safari compounds. No performance stages. No tactical briefings. Just coffee.
Jennix had chosen it. She was already there when they arrived—no couture gown, no luminous makeup. Just jeans, soft linen shirt, and her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She looked younger. Quieter. Real.
Brian slowed slightly when he saw her. Natalia squeezed his hand once before letting go.
Brax and Finn exchanged a glance that communicated Well, here we go.
Jennix stood as they approached.
“Hi,” she said.
No dramatic entrance. No glittering smile. Just honest nerves.
“Hi,” Brian replied.
They settled around a wide outdoor table. For a moment, the only sounds were cups clinking and an espresso machine hissing inside.
Jennix folded her hands together.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I figured ... if we’re going to keep crossing paths in high-stress international crises, maybe we should untangle the past first.”
Finn coughed. “That’s one way to phrase it.”
Brax gave him a look.
Natalia offered Jennix a warm smile. “I’m glad you asked.”
Jennix exhaled slowly.
“I need to say this first,” she said. “None of you chose what happened.”
Brian’s shoulders stiffened slightly.
“We were dosed,” he said plainly.
“Yes,” Jennix nodded. “You were.”
She swallowed.
“And I was given three times the concentration.”
They’d all heard this before, but in this context, it landed heavily.
Finn blinked. “Triple what we got.”
Jennix nodded. “He needed me to fall in love three times, so I got the triple treatment.”
Brax stared. “That’s grotesque.”
Jennix gave a short laugh. It teetered dangerously close to her infamous snort.
“Yeah,” she said. “It really was.”
Brian leaned back in his chair. “We thought we were losing our minds.”
“You were,” she said gently. “So was I.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I couldn’t separate my own thoughts from the induced ones. Every time I saw one of you, it was like ... gravity shifted.”
Finn rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me about it.”
Natalia’s gaze softened.
“And afterward?” she asked.
Jennix hesitated.
“I was hospitalized,” she said quietly. “Two weeks.”
All three men looked up sharply.
“What?” Brian said.
“The triple dose overloaded my endocrine system,” Jennix continued. “Cardiac irregularities. Neural misfires. Withdrawal symptoms when it metabolized.”
Brax’s expression darkened. “We didn’t hear about that.”
Jennix shrugged lightly. “You were dealing with your own fallout.”
Brian glanced at Natalia. She reached for her coffee cup, steady.
“I wasn’t dosed,” Natalia said calmly. “But Jarl was.”
Jennix winced. “I know.”
“He dosed himself to remain attached to me,” Natalia continued, voice even. “Which meant I had to live through someone else’s chemically induced obsession.”
There was no accusation in her tone. Just fact.
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