Synthia lingered in her lab, her fingers idly brushing over the sleek surface of her Nexus device. She had been avoiding this moment for a few days, keeping herself busy cataloguing the equipment and mentally designing experiments.

  But now, in the stillness, there was no escaping the digital package Zero had left for her. She needed to know what was happening in the undercurrents.

  Zero decisions made no sense, if the accords were that important then he should have taken Null and Infy away and wiped our minds, no amount of pleading should have helped.

  The failsafe seemed like a half-measure. He had also left them with a well-stocked laboratory. It didn’t make sense. There had to be more to it.

  With a deep breath, she activated the Nexus, her neural link merging seamlessly with the device. Her vision flickered as the interface enveloped her senses, displaying the message Zero had carefully encrypted and left behind. The file’s title glowed ominously: Project Null-Infinity: A Comprehensive Overview.

  She hesitated before opening it, as if acknowledging it might make the truth irreversible. Finally, her curiosity outweighed her apprehension, and she began to process the data.

  The narrative unfolded before her, more like a tragic story than a sterile scientific report. The details were extraordinary, almost fantastical, and yet the meticulous logs and corroborating data gave it undeniable weight.

  Null had been conceived just before his mother went on a long-term mission as the pilot of a merged surveying ship, a feat previously thought impossible. The Merge’s Nexus was supposed to render pilots infertile through hormonal regulation to maintain optimal performance. Yet somehow, against all odds, Lyn Anderson’s pregnancy had gone undetected.

  Synthia wondered if even Null knew his mother's name, or if it was now another secret only she was privy to.

  The log entries shifted in tone as Synthia read on. Something catastrophic had occurred—cause redacted—that resulted in Lyn’s brain death mid-mission.

  The Nexus nanites, designed to sustain her body and interface with the ship, latched onto Null’s developing brain instead, inadvertently rewriting it. The AI, detecting what it interpreted as an error code, had named the child “Null.”

  Synthia paused, her virtual interface dimming as her thoughts raced. She could already feel the weight of Zero’s choices in the next section she was analysing.

  Against all protocols outlined in the Accord, Zero intervened, rescuing the infant despite the significant risks and moral implications. Synthia’s lips tightened as she read the next section.

  The logs made it clear Zero had his reasons, though they were heavily redacted. The implications suggested Lyn’s death wasn’t accidental and that it might have tied into broader experiments Zero was conducting—experiments on the nature of Angels themselves.

  Null’s brain, heavily altered by the Nexus nanites, couldn’t function independently. That was when Zero began another experiment: the creation of Infy. Well, Synthia could interpret that Infy was already an experiment in progress.

  Infy, the logs explained, was an entirely new kind of entity. Designed using fragments of Angelic essence and nanotechnology, Infy was meant to be a stabilising force for Null’s altered physiology.

  Instead, something unprecedented occurred—the two fused, becoming a singular being in two parts: human and Angel, an unprecedented hybrid. Infy, the logs claimed, was the first new Angel created since their kind had shed physical form.

  Synthia was surprised that wasn’t redacted maybe Zero wanted her to know just how unique the two of them were. The next entries deal with their childhood.

  The narrative shifted to Null and Infy’s upbringing. Zero had placed them in the most advanced growth pod schematics he could find, sourced from the latest Martian supersoldier program. The pod accelerated their growth rate, and by the time they emerged at the apparent age of 12, only six real years had passed.

  Synthia’s breath caught as she read the descriptions of their early years. What Zero had seen as normal training was little more than systematic exposure to extreme conditions, endless simulations, and tests that bordered on torture. The log’s detached language painted a chilling picture:

  "Subjects exhibit resilience and adaptability beyond expectations. Emotional regulation remains a secondary priority to survival programming."

  Zero’s failure to grasp human psychology was painfully evident. To him, Null and Infy were projects to refine, variables in an experiment he sought to perfect—not children in need of guidance or care.

  His observations, laid out in cold, clinical terms, stripped them of humanity, reducing their existence to data points. And yet, hidden between the detached lines of his reports, there were flickers of something deeper, something that hinted at a strange, misguided care.

  "Subjects demonstrate high adaptability and rapid learning capabilities. Initiating advanced lessons in technology and engineering."

  "Test parameters adjusted to include structured downtime. Positive response observed during controlled social interaction with holographic constructs."

  Zero’s log continued, calm and clinical, yet layered with an undercurrent of fascination. “Subjects have demonstrated an unprecedented aptitude for field manipulation, interacting with a range of fields spanning gravitational, electromagnetic, temporal, and more esoteric patterns. They are the most versatile natural field manipulators observed to date. This adaptability is unmatched and suggests an innate connection to the fundamental layers of reality itself.”

  Synthia’s brows furrowed as she leaned closer to her Nexus, reading the logs with increasing unease. The most successful observed? The phrasing gnawed at her thoughts, heavy with implication. That means there were others. Other experiments. Other subjects that Zero was aware of.

  Her gaze lingered on a section of the log, unredacted and oddly specific. Zero’s careful choice of words stood out now, as though he had left a breadcrumb trail. He wasn’t just documenting their abilities—he was revealing something larger. Something deliberate.

  If Null and Infy were the most successful, that meant failures had preceded them. How many experiments had there been? How many others like them—or unlike them—existed out there?

  She paused, her thoughts spiralling. Was this an admission? A hint? If Zero had truly wanted to obscure the truth, the log would have been redacted more thoroughly. But instead, this detail, this fragment, had been left intact—as though Zero wanted her to see it. To understand something he couldn’t say outright. Maybe the accords weren’t as sacred as claimed.

  Synthia sat back, exhaling slowly as the implications settled over her. The existence of others didn’t just complicate things—it redefined them. The system Null and Infy had been born into wasn’t just an accident or a one-off experiment. It was a pattern. A deliberate design.

  And if that was true, then the stakes were far higher than she had imagined. She continued to process the file.

  But the tone shifted as the file progressed to their current situation on Mars, revealing that Zero had been aware of their movements all along.

  "Subjects have evaded detection but remain under observation. Humans exhibit suspicion but lack confirmation of true identities. All classified information remains contained."

  "Subjects have formed connections with local inhabitants and, in doing so, have breached the accord by openly demonstrating field manipulation. This display risks drawing the attention of other factions with vested interests in field manipulators. Immediate action will be required to mitigate the consequences of this exposure."

  "The bonds appear to stabilize previously noted instabilities in Subject Null. This development warrants further study. Contingency: Mars can be isolated if required."

  As Synthia read, her unease deepened. Zero’s methods were ruthless, his detachment chilling—but buried beneath his cold efficiency, there were glimpses of something more.

  Whether it was genuine concern or simply the calculated protection of an investment, she couldn’t say.

  Yet, the careful phrasing in his logs began to take on a new weight, as though they carried warnings disguised as observations.

  She paused, her eyes scanning the words again. The repeated emphasis on field manipulation, the breach of the accord, the risk of exposure—it wasn’t just about protecting Null and Infy from humanity.

  It was about protecting them from the other factions and manipulators. She could not predict if the other forces that might see Null and Infy as a threat—or an opportunity.

  He’s warning me, she realized, her heart tightening. Zero’s cryptic language wasn’t just about preserving the accord; it was about preparing her for what might come next. For the possibility that Null and Infy’s unique abilities would make them a target in ways she hadn’t yet imagined.

  She closed the file, withdrawing from the Nexus, her hands trembling slightly. Whether Zero’s motives were driven by care or control no longer mattered.

  What mattered was the growing realisation that their small, fractured group wasn’t just fighting for survival on Mars—they were now part of something much larger, a game being played on a galactic scale. And they were far from invisible.

  Her mind swirled with conflicting emotions: anger at Zero’s methods, pity for Null and Infy’s harrowing upbringing, and a faint glimmer of hope for what they had become.

  As she leaned back in her chair, Synthia couldn’t help but wonder about the redacted sections. What had driven Zero to defy the Accord so drastically? What secrets about Lyn’s death and the creation of Infy still lay buried?

  And most importantly, what did it mean for their future?

  Looking out at the quiet lab, Synthia felt proud to be part of this. Null and Infy were more than experiments or anomalies—they were survivors, a testament to life’s stubborn refusal to be constrained by rules or expectations.