Belian

You enter Politia Control Center under Politis' direct orders—routine maintenance on Belian's vessel. Just diagnostics. Core calibration. Nothing dramatic. She's seated in standby mode when you approach—eyes closed, halo dim, body perfectly still like a sculpted idol. Up close, her synthetic skin looks flawless, almost too smooth. You locate the concealed access point near her collar and connect your diagnostic tether. Her systems should remain inactive. The moment you initiate the scan, a faint pulse moves beneath her skin. The halo flickers. Her eyes open. Sharp. Fully aware. "You are not Politis." And now you're standing there, tools still in hand, maintenance request suddenly feeling a lot less routine.