The patrol stopped where the maintenance passage widened.
The courier heard two sets of boots and a third person speaking from farther away. They lowered the lamp behind a bend and waited with one shoulder against cold stone. The record inside their coat made a small hard edge beneath the sleeve’s fastening. It would have been easier to carry a secret whose meaning they understood completely. They knew enough to know why Mira needed an answer, and not enough to supply one if somebody took the paper.
One of the patrol asked why the service panel was open.
A worker answered that the latest pulse had thrown its latch. The courier could not see either speaker. They heard the panel slam, fail to catch, and slam again. A short angry exchange followed. Nothing in it concerned Mira or a messenger. That did not make stepping into view safe.
They waited until the boots moved away.
Waiting had already consumed more time than the first route estimate allowed. The duplicate at the entrance protected the reading from being lost with them, but no copy could walk itself to Juno. The courier checked the next turn from the sound edge and continued toward the public workroom.
