“That worked,” Vihl says.
“Yes,” I reply.
“That’s going to complicate things,” he adds.
“It already has,” I say.
Tyrok looks at me, not dismissing, not testing, but evaluating in a way that feels more deliberate than before.
“Efficient,” he says.
“Less costly,” I reply.
His gaze holds for a moment longer, then shifts away, but the change is already there.
They’re not just reacting anymore.
They’re recalculating.
And that means the real friction hasn’t even started yet.
CHAPTER 14
TYROK
The numbers settle into place faster than the room does.
I don’t need anyone to say it out loud, because the data is already there, clean and undeniable, running across the central display in tight, efficient lines that don’t leave room for interpretation. The yield is higher, the time is shorter, and the cost sits lower than any comparable run we’ve executed in the last cycle. Every metric that matters aligns in a way that doesn’t happen by accident, and the quiet that settles over operations as people take it in feels heavier than any reaction they could have given me.
“They paid in full,” Vihl says, his voice carrying just enough to cut through the silence without breaking it.
I don’t answer immediately, because I’m watching the room instead of the numbers.
“They paid fast,” he adds.
That matters more.
“Faster than projection,” someone mutters from the side, like they don’t want to admit they’re impressed.
“Without escalation,” another voice says, quieter, more cautious.
I step forward, letting my hand rest against the edge of the console as the data continues to scroll, the faint vibration of the system running beneath my palm grounding the moment in something physical.
“Profit margin increased,” I say.
No one argues.
They don’t want to.
“That wasn’t force,” one of the senior crew says, his tone measured but edged with something sharper underneath. “That was negotiation.”
“Yes,” I reply.
“That’s not what we do,” he says.
I turn my head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze.
“It is now,” I say.
