A murmur moves through the table. The commander has returned by then, though he does not intervene. Good. He wants to see whether this breaks.
It will not.
I step closer to the table and remove Vhalor’s marker from the central route. “Every advantage Zethon currently holds began with her warning. Velkiron’s overextension, Xalith’sroute, the southern cache, the false signal response. You have verification. You are standing inside it.”
Vhalor’s eyes narrow. “And if she is wrong?”
“Then we adapt. As armies do.”
“And if she withholds?”
Aeryn finally looks up. “Then you ask why.”
He blinks once, not expecting her to answer for herself.
She holds his gaze. “If I don’t give you everything, it is because everything is not always useful at the same time.”
“Convenient.”
“Usually,” she says.
A quiet sound escapes someone near the rear of the table. Almost laughter. Quickly killed.
I almost admire her timing.
The commander steps in then, not to rescue the moment, but to claim it. “Enough. Her visions remain command-priority information.”
Vhalor inclines his head, though his displeasure remains visible.
I am not finished.
“Not enough,” I say.
The commander turns to me.
Aeryn does too.
“Reports must reach her before they are summarized,” I continue. “Not after. She needs raw movement, troop changes, relic activity, weather disruption, messenger delays, anything that alters probability. If filtered intelligence reaches her late, her value declines and your losses increase.”
The commander considers this. “You want intelligence channels rerouted.”
“I want them corrected.”
Vhalor looks displeased enough to confirm I chose the right word.
Aeryn watches me now with an expression I cannot fully read, though I know she understands what I am doing. This is not defense for its own sake. It is infrastructure. She cannot remain central if every man with rank tries to turn her into an ornament and call it caution.
The commander looks to her. “Can you use that volume of information?”
“Yes,” she says. “If it comes clean.”
“And if it overwhelms you?”
“It won’t.”
A lie. Possibly. Or pride. I make a note to address it privately, where she can insult me without an audience.
The commander looks back to the table. “All movement reports, relic findings, intercepted messages, and battlefield anomalies pass first through joint review.”
