Rohan humored her. He pulled up the deep-layer handshake protocols—the silent conversation Mits held with itself across entangled particle arrays. What he found made the coffee in his hand go cold.
In the sterile, humming heart of the Helios Array, a massive orbital solar collector, the Master Tactical Synchronized Neural Communications Network—MTS-NCOMMS to its operators, “Mits” to the few who dared personify it—was more than a system. It was a digital god, woven into the station’s every bulkhead, every relay, every flickering thought of its 300-person crew. mts-ncomms
“Mits doesn’t lag, Commander,” Rohan said, scrolling through cascading green lines on his console. “It’s deterministic. Predictive. It knows what you’ll think before you think it.” Rohan humored her