_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">Helena Voss's reflection stared back at her from the boratory window, her usually composed features tight with concern. Behind her reflection, she could see Subject L7—the infant girl with distinctive neural connection points already visible at the base of her skull—sleeping peacefully in her specialized development chamber. Outside, Helix Pharmaceuticals' pristine grounds stretched toward the horizon, bathed in the artificial sunlight that kept Terminus's harsh climate at bay.

  She pced a protective hand over her enormously swollen belly, feeling the twins shift beneath her touch. The movement usually brought her comfort, but today it only heightened her anxiety. At full term, with her due date just days away, stress was the st thing her doctor had recommended.

  The boratory door slid open with a soft hiss.

  "They're here," Dr. Non Wright said, his voice deliberately even. "The funding committee just cleared security."

  Helena nodded, straightening her b coat over her enormously pregnant belly. She took a slow breath as what felt like a real contraction, not just the Braxton Hicks she'd been experiencing for weeks, tightened across her abdomen.

  "How many?"

  "Five. Including Chamberin from Finance."

  She grimaced. Chamberin was thorough, unsentimental, and entirely loyal to the corporate bottom line. "Time to perform, then."

  As she moved toward her desk, a light cramping sensation made her pause. She took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. The babies responded to her biochemistry, and right now, they needed her steady.

  "Are you all right?" Non asked, noticing her discomfort. "You look like you might be—"

  "Fine," she cut him off, though her hand remained protectively over her belly. "The contingency?"

  "In pce," he confirmed. "But Helena, if they—"

  The boratory doors slid open again, this time admitting five figures in corporate attire. At their center walked Phillip Chamberin, his silver hair immacutely styled, his eyes already evaluating everything they passed over.

  "Dr. Voss," he greeted with professional courtesy, deliberately using her married name rather than her professional designation of Dr. Carro. A small reminder that she belonged to the Voss corporate empire now. "We appreciate you accommodating our review on such short notice."

  Helena offered a practiced smile. "Of course. Project Chrysalis represents a significant investment. Proper oversight is essential."

  Another contraction gripped her, stronger than the st, and she discreetly pressed her hand against the small of her back while maintaining her professional demeanor. The twins were unusually active today, as if they sensed her tension, occasionally causing her to catch her breath as they pressed against her ribs in her heavily pregnant state.

  "As you can see from our quarterly results," she began, gesturing to the holographic dispy, "neural integration development has progressed 17% ahead of projected timelines. Subject L7 has demonstrated unprecedented synaptic adaptability."

  Chamberin nodded without warmth. "The financial projections, Dr. Voss."

  Helena maintained her composure as she switched dispys, showing resource allocation graphs. This was where the conversation would turn. The red bars of resource consumption towered over the blue bars of projected return.

  "The resource intensity remains concerning," Chamberin said, studying the dispy. "Particurly given the council's recent resource conservation mandates."

  "Breakthroughs require investment," Helena replied. "The neural architecture we're developing will revolutionize interface capabilities."

  "Perhaps," Chamberin said, his tone making it clear he remained unconvinced. "But the committee must consider immediate resource allocation priorities." He gestured toward the infant's chamber. "Is this Subject L7?"

  Helena nodded, instinctively moving closer to the chamber. "Yes. Our most advanced neural integration prototype."

  Chamberin studied the sleeping infant with clinical detachment. "And how many resources does this single subject consume weekly?"

  "The equivalent of seventeen Worker rations," Helena admitted, one hand supporting her lower back as she shifted her weight. There was no point lying about documented facts.

  "And these specialized nutrients?" He indicated the feeding system.

  "Necessary for optimal neural development."

  Chamberin exchanged gnces with his colleagues. "Dr. Voss, the committee has reviewed Project Chrysalis in detail. While the research holds theoretical promise, the resource allocation cannot be justified in the current climate."

  Despite expecting this, Helena felt a chill run through her. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

  "Project Chrysalis will be downsized effective immediately. Research will be redirected toward more productive applications." He paused, his expression unchanged. "All test subjects are to be terminated and their resources reallocated."

  Though she'd anticipated this outcome, hearing the words still sent a jolt through Helena's body. She felt another cramp, stronger this time, and fought to keep her expression neutral.

  "Termination seems premature," she argued, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "These subjects represent years of development."

  "The decision is final, Dr. Voss," Chamberin said. "You have 48 hours to comply and submit confirmation of termination. The committee expects full cooperation given your... unique position." His eyes flickered briefly to her pregnant belly—a reminder of her connection to Marcus Voss and the expectations that came with it.

  When the committee finally departed two hours ter, Helena locked the boratory door and leaned against it, finally allowing herself to tremble.

  "They actually did it," Non said, emerging from the adjacent monitoring room. "I thought Marcus might have intervened."

  "Marcus agrees with them," Helena said bitterly. "He sees the project as a distraction from my more important contribution." She rubbed her belly gently. "Two perfectly designed heirs for the Voss legacy."

  "Then we proceed with the contingency?"

  Helena moved to the infant's chamber, looking down at the sleeping girl. So much potential, so many possibilities encoded in that developing brain. The neural connection points at the base of her skull were unlike anything they'd achieved before—a perfect bridge between human consciousness and technological interface.

  "Yes," she said firmly. "Tonight."

  Security Officer Trent yawned as he completed another circuit of Helix Pharmaceuticals' west wing. Graveyard shift was always tedious, but it paid better than day patrol. He paused at the junction to Laboratory Section C, noting the authorized personnel indicator glowing above the door.

  "Dr. Voss still working?" he asked into his comm.

  "Affirmative," came the bored reply from central security. "Executive override registered at 22:17. Pregnancy insomnia, apparently."

  Trent nodded to himself. The Voss woman was known for working strange hours, especially since her pregnancy had advanced. Being married to VitaCore's CEO apparently didn't slow her down.

  Inside Laboratory Section C, Helena worked methodically, her movements precise despite her fatigue. The specialized stasis container sat open on the workbench, its interior padded and equipped with miniaturized life support systems.

  "Neural monitor calibrated," she said softly.

  Across the room, Non Wright checked the readings on his tablet. "Confirmed. The temporal parameters are set for five-year stabilization. After that..."

  "After that, she'll need external support," Helena finished. "But she'll be alive and found by then."

  They worked silently for another hour, adding components to the container: a small sample of specialized nutrients formuted for neural growth, a cryptically encoded data chip containing basic care instructions and partial neural development protocols, and an unusual device that looked like a simple toy but was actually an advanced neural monitoring tool.

  Helena gnced at the boratory clock. Nearly time.

  "The security protocols?" she asked.

  Non nodded. "Ready. When you give the word, I can trigger a cascading systems check in sectors four through seven. It will create a three-minute window with no active surveilnce."

  Helena moved to the infant's chamber and pressed her palm against the biometric lock. With a soft hiss, the top opened. She gently lifted the sleeping baby, feeling the warmth and slight weight in her arms. For a moment, she held the child against her chest, next to where her own children grew.

  "Three different paths," she whispered. "But one destination."

  A cramp, stronger than before, made her wince. She took a steadying breath and carefully pced Subject L7 into the stasis container. The infant stirred slightly but didn't wake as the specialized environment adjusted to her body temperature and metabolic needs.

  "Ready," Helena said.

  Non pressed a sequence on his tablet. "Systems check initiated. We have three minutes."

  They moved quickly, securing the container and activating its camoufge function. To any observer, it now appeared to be standard waste disposal equipment—the kind regurly removed from boratory sections for incineration.

  Helena went to her workstation and executed the prepared sequence. On multiple screens, biological integrity cascade warnings fshed red, followed by emergency termination protocols. The system requested confirmation.

  "Logged and verified," she said as her trembling finger pressed the final command. "Subject L7 officially terminated due to failed biological integrity cascade. Remains processed for immediate incineration."

  She pced her palm on the small scanner beside her desk, allowing the system to verify her executive authorization. The computer chimed its acceptance of the falsified records.

  "Thirty seconds," Non warned, lifting the disguised container.

  They moved to the boratory's disposal chute—a direct route to the facility's waste processing center. Non pced the container on the ptform and hesitated.

  "The tracking beacon is active?" he asked.

  Helena nodded, her hand again pressed against her belly as another cramp came and went. "Ultralow frequency, randomly timed bursts. Undetectable by standard means."

  "And if something goes wrong? If no one finds her?"

  "Someone will," Helena said with more confidence than she felt. "The salvage teams are predictable in their patterns. The container will be pced precisely where they'll find it."

  Non took a deep breath and pressed the dispatch button. The ptform lowered, carrying the container down toward the facility's waste processing center.

  "Security systems reactivating," he said. "Fifteen seconds."

  They quickly returned to their workstations, adopting the appearance of scientists documenting a failed experiment. When the surveilnce cameras came back online, they would show nothing unusual—just two dedicated researchers dealing with an unfortunate setback.

  Helena felt a more insistent cramp and grimaced, pcing both hands on her belly.

  "Are you all right?" Non asked, concerned.

  "Just Braxton Hicks," she said, trying to convince herself as much as him. "False contractions. Normal at this stage."

  But as she said it, she knew these were different. More rhythmic, more intense. She gnced at the time. Still irregur, but definitely getting stronger. The twins were making their intentions clear – today would be their birthday. She just needed to finish this first.

  They spent another hour meticulously documenting the falsified termination, creating a complete record that would satisfy even Chamberin's scrutiny. Synthetic tissue samples with Subject L7's genetic markers were pced in the verification system, providing physical evidence of the supposed termination.

  When they finally finished, Helena sank into her chair, exhaustion washing over her. Another contraction, unmistakably real and now coming less than fifteen minutes apart, made her pause and breathe deeply. She activated her secure terminal and checked the tracking system. A tiny green dot pulsed on the facility map, showing the container's position in the waste processing center. By morning, it would be moved to the disposal site beyond the facility's eastern perimeter.

  "It's done," she said. "Now we wait."

  "If they discover what we've done..." Non began.

  "They won't," Helena said firmly. "We've considered every variable. The committee will get their termination confirmation, the resource allocation will be adjusted, and Project Chrysalis will be officially downsized to theoretical research only." She rubbed her belly as the twins shifted again. "But its most important components are safe."

  Non nodded toward her pregnant form. "All three of them."

  Helena allowed herself a small smile as she watched the pulsing green dot move through the facility. "Yes. All three."

  In the darkness of the waste processing center, the disguised container sat among genuine trash, its precious cargo sleeping peacefully, unaware of the eborate deception ensuring her survival. The neural monitor inside recorded steady brain activity, while the tracking beacon prepared for its first scheduled transmission—a burst of data so brief and random that even the most sophisticated security systems would dismiss it as background noise.

  Helena closed her eyes, visualizing the path ahead. Three children with intricately designed neural architectures, developing along different paths but destined to converge years ter. The first components of an eighteen-year pn were now in motion, beyond even Marcus's reach.

  Another cramp made her wince. She would need to rest soon, to ensure the twins' continued healthy development. They were equally crucial to what would come.

  "Let's finish up," she said, rising carefully from her chair, pausing to breathe through another contraction. "We've done what we can for her. Now we need to focus on the next phase."

  "Helena," Non said, eyeing her with concern, "I think we should get you to medical. Those aren't false contractions anymore, are they?"

  "No," she admitted, "but there's still time. I need to make sure everything here is secured first."

  As they prepared to leave the boratory, Helena cast one final gnce at the security screen showing the waste processing center. Somewhere in that darkness, hidden among the discarded materials of Helix Pharmaceuticals, y the third piece of her grand design—a child who would grow up far from corporate influence, developing in ways the funding committee could never imagine.

  "Safe journey, little one," she whispered, pcing her hand protectively over the twins who would soon enter the world. A strong contraction made her grip the doorframe for support. "We'll meet again when the time is right."

  As they walked toward the medical facility, Helena's mind was already racing with the next steps of her pn, even as her body prepared to bring two new lives into the world. Three children, born the same day, but destined for very different paths – at least for now.