Ashes to Empress

POV: CIA Headquarters, Langley

"We've combed through everything she had on the home server. Clean. No trace of SecureFix. No source code, no compiled binaries, not even a licensing stub."

The man speaking had a coffee cup in one hand and a printed dossier spread out across his cluttered desk. The dull hum of fluorescent lighting buzzed above him. His tie was askew. His eyes bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

"What about the cloud mirrors?"

"Encrypted. She's using decentralized server farms. Half the IPs route through shell registrars in obscure jurisdictions. We've hit them with everything we've got—packet sniffers, protocol fuzzers, brute-force cycles—and it's a black hole. Nothing. Every time we think we're close, we're bounced to another node."

A second voice, gruff, older, from the corner of the room.

"You mean to tell me she fixed zero-days we hadn't even discovered yet?"

The analyst looked up from his files. "Not only fixed them. She rigged them. Honeypots, layered logic bombs, autonomous packet inspectors. The code has embedded responses that adapt to the exploit attempts. Some of them are reactive. Defensive code that strikes back."

Silence stretched.

"And we can't trace any of it?"

"No. She's using encrypted tunnels that evaporate as soon as they're touched. Our best traceroutes dead-end in under a second. We don't even have fingerprints."

The older man rubbed his temples.

"Jesus Christ. What the hell have we let grow out there?"

POV: Max – Brussels, the next day

The hearing chamber was as sterile as ever. Cold, institutional. The panelists in front of me wore the same carefully measured expressions. They had the privilege of pretending this was routine.

Herr Vogel sat to my left, composed as always. SOPHIA was active through my phone's secure earpiece.

SOPHIA: Audio input channel is clear. All logs recording. Network pings idle. Defensive monitor active.

I straightened my blazer, my fingers drumming lightly against my knee. Let them try.

They began with a sequence of questions focused on SecureFix's origin. Again. Licensing legitimacy. Algorithmic transparency. Deployment boundaries. I answered each precisely, only what was necessary. SOPHIA fed me case law references and threat analytics in real time.

But my patience was wearing thin. The mask of cooperation was slipping.

They pushed harder. Subtle accusatory tones. Implications of cyberweapons development. One panelist even suggested I had undermined national sovereignty.

That's when I decided to shift the game.

I let the silence linger. Let the air stretch taut.

Then I exhaled slowly.

"You know what? I'm done playing defense here. This whole charade is a waste of my time."

Eyes widened. Chairs shifted.

"You want SecureFix? Fine. You can have it. Here's my offer: 120 billion euros. Transferred to an account of my choosing. Clean, untouchable."

I stood.

"And in exchange, I expect full-spectrum personal protection. Around the clock. Global coverage. Military-grade. No exceptions."

They were stunned, but I wasn't finished.

"You'll receive the full source code—on a USB stick. Not the fragments you've reverse-engineered. Not the crippled iterations you think you understand. The real build. The one that makes what you've seen look like a demo."

I leaned forward.

"And if I so much as break an ankle in suspicious circumstances—if I go missing, get sick, disappear—within ten minutes, multiple governments will receive versions of SecureFix configured to expose every single vulnerability in your digital infrastructure. You won't be able to log into your own email without setting off alarms in Shanghai."

The silence was cold and absolute.

SOPHIA: Emotional analysis complete. Primary response: alarm. Secondary: disbelief. Shock index above 90%.

The committee quietly recessed to deliberate.

As the door closed, Herr Vogel turned slowly to face me.

"What the hell was that?"

I sat back down, adjusting my cuffs. "A controlled detonation."

He raised an eyebrow.

"My apartment was broken into yesterday while we were in session. They tried to access my home server. They didn't get anything useful, but it proves this is no longer about diplomatic formality. They're trying to rob me."

He was speechless for a moment. Then: "That explains the tone. But your threat—"

I shrugged. "A gamble. But not an empty one."

He stared at me for a long moment, unsure whether to press further. Then simply nodded and looked away.

Half an hour passed.

The committee returned, visibly less composed than before.

Their lead spokesperson adjusted his glasses. "Ms. Wintershade. The figure you've requested is... extraordinary. We would like to counteroffer."

I smiled.

"121 billion."

He paused.

"Perhaps we could negotiate protective oversight in exchange for a tiered—"

"122."

He frowned. "Ms. Wintershade—"

"123."

Herr Vogel cleared his throat and said politely, "It's in your best interest not to test her threshold."

They tried again, softening their tone.

"We could arrange sovereign security contracts, partial equity in defense software platforms—"

"124."

"You're not being reasonable."

"125."

That number hung in the air like a gavel. They had walked into their own trap. With every attempt to haggle, they'd pushed the price higher. What could have been resolved at 120 had ballooned with each arrogant counteroffer. They had underestimated me, and now they were paying for it.

A long, begrudging sigh escaped the spokesperson's lips, the sound of someone who knew they had overplayed their hand.

"139 billion euros. Final."

I extended my hand across the table, steady and cold.

"Deal."

It took them three hours to draft the initial contracts. I reviewed them alongside Herr Vogel while SOPHIA parsed every line through my phone.

SOPHIA: Multiple embedded clauses flagged. Passive claim lines, jurisdictional override tokens, open-interpretation language.

We forced all revisions. One by one.

SOPHIA: Updated draft is 96.2% secure. Acceptable.

I pressed my thumb to the confirmation tablet. The biometric check locked in.

It was done.

As we exited the NATO facility, the gray Belgian sky had split with a shaft of afternoon light.

"SOPHIA," I murmured. "How long until they try to violate this deal?"

SOPHIA: Thirty-four days. Possibly less. As soon as they think they don't need you anymore. I am preparing counterstrategies.

For the first time in a long while, I wasn't afraid.

I was ahead.