Zora's Aurora 3 - the Serengeti Exchange
Copyright© 2026 by Art Samms
Chapter 6
Holographic schematics of Nairobi Glass Hall rotated slowly above the table in the hotel room—an elegant dome of transparent smart-glass and interlocking steel ribs, designed to reflect sky by day and citylight by night.
Tomorrow, it would host The Exchange.
Sophie stood with arms folded, scanning entry points.
“Four public entrances. Two service corridors. Sublevel freight access tied to biometric locks,” she said. “The central installation is here.”
She magnified the floor plan—a raised circular platform beneath the highest arc of the dome.
“Neural lattice art piece,” Zora murmured. “Which is not art.”
“Correct,” Sophie said. “Likely the control hub.”
Brian leaned over the table. “So, we infiltrate, extract the control data, and let Daniel’s unit move.”
“That’s the clean version,” Delta’s voice cut in through the room speakers. “The actual version will be chaotic, high-visibility, and legally precarious.”
Natalia glanced toward the door as it opened.
Jennix stepped in.
She wasn’t styled for cameras this time either. No shimmering dress. No luminous aura. Just tailored black trousers and a pale blouse, hair still in that simple ponytail.
But there was resolve in her posture.
“I’ll host it.”
The room stilled.
Zora blinked. “Host it.”
Jennix nodded once. “Publicly. As a collaborative fashion-tech showcase. My foundation’s name has already been loosely attached to wildlife innovation. I can reframe it.”
Sophie’s eyes sharpened. “Reframe it how?”
“As a transparency event,” Jennix said. “I announce that I’m partnering to evaluate emerging conservation technologies. Live. On stage.”
Delta’s voice went very quiet. “That would put you directly beside Vorenko.”
“That’s the idea.”
Brian stepped forward instinctively. “Jennix—”
She held up a hand.
“I was used once,” she said, steady but strained. “My image. My brand. My biology.” A flicker of pain crossed her face. “I’m not being used again.”
Natalia studied her carefully.
“You’re not doing this out of guilt?” she asked gently.
Jennix’s composure cracked just enough to be honest.
“Of course I am,” she said. “My foundation’s name helped him gain credibility. Even if I walked away.”
Zora slid off the edge of the table and approached her.
“You don’t owe us redemption theatre,” Zora said softly.
“I know,” Jennix replied. “This isn’t theatre.”
She turned toward Sophie.
“If I’m the public face of the event, he can’t keep everything encrypted. He’ll need live demonstration access. He’ll want to impress donors.”
Sophie considered that.
“Which means he’ll activate the lattice,” she said slowly.
“And you can tap it in real time,” Jennix finished.
Delta exhaled audibly through the comm.
“This escalates the risk profile exponentially.”
“It also collapses his control narrative,” Jennix said.
Brian frowned. “He’ll suspect something.”
“Yes,” Jennix agreed. “But he’ll assume I want back in.”
The room fell quiet again. Sophie looked at Zora.
Zora’s expression was unreadable for a long moment.
“You’d be standing next to a man who tried to strong-arm you into partnership,” Zora said. “In a building full of his buyers.”
Jennix met her gaze.
“I’ve stood next to worse.”
That landed.
Natalia stepped forward, resting a hand lightly on Jennix’s shoulder.
“If we do this,” she said, “you’re never alone.”
Jennix’s throat tightened briefly. She nodded.
Sophie finally spoke.
“It would work,” she said. “If we time it precisely.”
Delta reentered the conversation immediately.
“If we do this, I coordinate every security vector. No improvisation. Daniel’s unit will stage outside jurisdictionally.”
“Daniel will love that,” Zora muttered.
As if summoned by name, Daniel himself appeared on the wall display via holo-call—impeccable posture, expression grave.
“I have reviewed the preliminary plan,” he said. “It is reckless.”
Zora tilted her head. “Selective recklessness.”
His eyes flicked to her.
“Ms. Zephyr.”
Jennix stepped into view of the holo.
“Agent Njoroge,” she said calmly. “I am volunteering to co-host the exhibition.”
Daniel’s gaze sharpened.
“Volunteering.”
“Yes.”
A weighty pause followed.
“This will generate substantial public scrutiny,” he said. “If we move prematurely, Vorenko’s counsel will claim reputational sabotage.”
“That’s why you wait,” Jennix replied. “Until he activates the control interface.”
Sophie added, “We extract proof of live command functionality. Transaction logs. Biometric authorization.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“And then?”
“And then,” Zora said, stepping closer to the holo field, “you walk in with warrants and impeccable timing.”
Daniel regarded her carefully.
“You are asking me to allow a known suspect to proceed with an illegal auction in order to secure incontrovertible evidence.”
“Yes,” Sophie said.
“Yes,” Jennix echoed.
Daniel’s gaze shifted between them.
“Legal fallout will be significant,” he said.
“I’ll handle the media,” Jennix replied. “Publicly.”
“I will handle the warrants,” Daniel said.
Zora’s mouth curved faintly.
“And we’ll handle the dramatic reveal.”
Delta cut in sharply.
“No dramatic reveals without signal confirmation and perimeter lockdown.”
Zora sighed. “Fine. Moderately dramatic reveal.”
Brian leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face.
“We’re really doing this.”
Natalia looked at Jennix.
“You’re sure?”
Jennix inhaled slowly.
“I won’t let him sell obedience as art,” she said.
Silence followed. Then Sophie nodded once.
“Three days,” she said. “We build the trap.”
Daniel’s holo flickered slightly as he prepared to disconnect.
“Ms. Starlight,” he said.
Jennix looked up.
“You will be under Federation protection from this moment forward.”
Her eyes softened with something like relief.
“Thank you.”
The holo faded.
Zora exhaled.
“Well,” she said lightly, though tension edged her voice, “I always did enjoy a gallery opening.”
Delta’s tone was steel.
“This is not a gallery opening. This is a coordinated sting operation with global visibility.”
Zora grinned faintly.
“Exactly.”
If chaos could be quantified, Delta was currently running it through three parallel spreadsheets and winning.
The hotel suite looked less like a rehearsal space and more like a command center under siege. Holo-feeds flickered in layered panes across the main wall—media speculation panels, architectural overlays of Nairobi Glass Hall, Federation advisories, social feeds exploding with pre-event buzz.
Jennix’s surprise announcement that she would co-host the exhibition had detonated across global channels within minutes. The media was abuzz with speculation.
Innovator or opportunist?
Fashion Icon Steps Into Wildlife Tech Arena.
What Is “The Exchange”?
Delta stood in the center of it all with a headset hooked behind one ear, fingers flying across a projected console.
“Yes, we require secondary credential passes for the stage crew,” she said crisply. “No, I do not care that the guest list is sealed. Create an auxiliary classification. Use cultural liaison protocol if you have to.”
She muted that channel and pivoted to another.
“Cargo shipment 7B needs to clear customs under performance equipment designation. Yes, I know it’s last-minute. That’s why I’m calling you.”
Across the room, Sophie watched perimeter simulations scroll by.
“Security chatter is escalating,” she said. “Two anonymous threats flagged in the past hour. Nothing credible yet, but someone’s nervous.”
“Good,” Zora said from the arm of a couch, where she was pretending not to fidget. “Nervous villains make mistakes.”
Delta didn’t look up. “Nervous villains also overcompensate.”
Brian hovered near the window, arms folded, gaze on the skyline. Natalia sat cross-legged on the floor with her drum pad, tapping out soft, restless rhythms.
Finn entered carrying a paper sack with reverent care.
“I have found it,” he announced solemnly.
Brax looked up. “Found what?”
Finn opened the bag like it contained rare treasure.
“Local variant,” he said. “Spiced. Slightly smoked. The texture is extraordinary.”
Nigel, lounging in a chair with theatrical languor, peered inside.
“You crossed continents, visited other worlds, and your greatest discovery is ... compressed protein fragments?”
“Meat gravel,” Finn corrected with dignity. “Respect it.”
Even Delta’s mouth twitched faintly.
Finn took a bite, closed his eyes, and then—slowly—opened them again.
His gaze drifted across the room to Delta.
She hadn’t sat down in hours. Her blazer was folded neatly over the back of a chair, sleeves of her blouse rolled up, posture still arrow-straight despite the fatigue beginning to etch faint shadows beneath her eyes.
“Delta,” Finn said around a mouthful, “when did you last eat?”
She switched channels again.
“Define eat.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s a functional approximation.”
Natalia stopped tapping. Brian glanced over. Zora’s gaze sharpened slightly.
Delta continued issuing instructions with surgical precision.
“Media staging area needs a secondary barrier—no direct sightlines to sublevel freight access. And someone find out why the lighting director thinks we’re using ultraviolet accent beams.”
She muted the feed again and pressed her fingers briefly to the bridge of her nose.
It was subtle. But the room saw it. Even Finn.
He set the bag of meat gravel down.
“That’s new,” he said quietly.
“What is?” Brax asked.
“The bridge-of-nose press. That goes beyond just a pinch. That’s advanced-stage Delta.”
Nigel leaned forward with interest. “Ah. We are in rare territory.”
Zora stood. She crossed the room casually and leaned one elbow on the edge of Delta’s command table.
“You know,” Zora said lightly, “if you collapse from managerial martyrdom, we will be extremely inconvenienced.”
Delta didn’t look at her.
“I am not collapsing.”
“Mm,” Zora hummed.
Sophie glanced over her shoulder. “She’s been up since 0500.”
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