“That’s you,” he says.
I shake my head slightly.
“That’s her,” I correct.
Stacy doesn’t react to that outwardly, but I feel the subtle shift beside me.
“Either way,” Vihl continues, “they’re not sure what you are anymore.”
“Good,” I reply.
“That uncertainty cuts both ways,” he says.
“Yes.”
I expand one of the channels, selecting a priority transmission, and the image resolves into a representative I recognize, his posture formal, his expression carefully neutral in a way that tells me he’s already adjusted his approach before even speaking.
“Tyrok,” he says, inclining his head slightly. “We’ve received… updated information regarding your internal doctrine.”
“That’s one way to describe it,” I reply.
He allows a faint shift in expression, something almost like acknowledgment.
“We’re interested in renegotiating terms,” he says.
“Based on what?” I ask.
“Based on permanence,” he replies. “If what we’re seeing is accurate.”
“It is,” I say.
He studies me for a moment, then nods slowly.
“Then the value structure changes,” he says.
“Yes.”
“And with it, risk,” he adds.
“Only if you don’t understand it,” I reply.
He leans slightly forward.
“Then help me understand it,” he says.
I rest my hand against the console, grounding the conversation in something physical as I answer.
“You’re not trading for temporary advantage anymore,” I say. “You’re aligning with something that doesn’t collapse when conditions shift.”
“That assumes stability,” he counters.
“It guarantees it,” I correct.
He considers that, longer this time.
“And in return?” he asks.
“In return,” I say, “you get consistency.”
