“If I return her,” I say slowly, choosing each word with precision, “I maintain that trust.”
“Yes,” Vihl says, immediate and certain.
“And I lose what she provides.”
“And you keep everything else intact,” he shoots back. “Everything you’ve been building toward.”
I let out a slow breath, my gaze shifting back to the projection, to the clean, undeniable confirmation that started all of this.
“And if I don’t?” I ask.
Vihl’s jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment before answering.
“Then you break it,” he says quietly. “Not all at once. Not dramatically. But enough.”
“How much?” I press.
“Enough that people start questioning,” he replies. “Enough that deals get harder. Enough that the next time you say something is binding, someone decides to test that.”
I can see it as he says it, the ripple effect, the slow erosion of certainty that everything I’ve built depends on.
“And after that?” I ask.
He looks back at me, and there’s something in his expression now that wasn’t there before.
“After that,” he says, “we start losing control.”
The words settle deep.
The bridge hums around us, systems running, crew moving, everything functioning exactly as it should while the foundation beneath it all threatens to shift.
“Trade channels are already reacting,” one of the crew calls from across the bridge, his voice careful but not quiet enough to ignore. “Two minor partners have suspended negotiations pending clarification.”
Vihl doesn’t take his eyes off me. “That’s the beginning,” he says.
Another voice cuts in, sharper. “We’re getting queries from three outer-sector contacts. They want confirmation on contract enforcement policies.”
“Say no,” Vihl mutters under his breath, not to them, but to me. “Say you’re honoring it.”
I don’t answer.
“Tyrok,” he says, sharper now.
I lift a hand slightly, silencing him without looking away from the projection.
“Respond with standard protocol,” I say to the crew. “Contracts remain binding. Enforcement unchanged.”
There’s a pause.
“Yes, sir,” the crew member replies, though his tone carries uncertainty.
Vihl lets out a short, incredulous breath. “You hear yourself?” he asks. “You’re saying the words while doing the opposite.”
“I’m maintaining stability,” I reply.
“You’re creating contradiction,” he shoots back.
Before I can respond, another alert cuts through the air, sharper than the rest, the tone distinct enough that every head on the bridge turns toward it.
