Page 13 of Reaper Said Mine

The word slides between us with delicate malice. Skahar stills beside me, and the nearest weapons officer lowers one hand toward the blade at his hip. I lift two fingers, and the movement freezes my warriors before anyone embarrasses me.

Theryki notices that too.

"You have command," she says quietly. "Real command. I do not flatter when I say that many in Coalition space misjudged you."

"Many in Coalition space still do."

"Then sign, and make them revise their opinions."

I laugh, because she makes it sound so clean. "There it is. You corner me in my own command center, compliment my discipline, insult my legal footing, and offer me salvation in exchange for my throat."

"Your throat would remain your own."

"Your emergency access clause says otherwise."

She tilts her head. "A standard provision."

"So is poison, in some courts."

The aides shift behind her. Theryki remains poised, but her pupils narrow, and I enjoy that more than diplomacy recommends.

She steps closer to the tactical table and lowers her voice so the room must strain to hear without seeming to. "You are standing at the edge of history, Lord Gnash. Your people have been scattered, hunted, caricatured, and used as a convenient nightmare by every civilized power in the galaxy. The Coalition is offering you a path out of that darkness."

"My people are not in darkness because you have only just learned how to see us."

"A poetic answer. It does not solve your material problem."

"I solve material problems daily."

"With tariffs, intimidation, salvage, and raids." Her voice stays smooth, but the edge beneath it shines. "That may sustain a warband. It will not sustain a state."

The command center seems to tighten around us. I hear the low growl from Vakka near the dock feeds, the minute scrape of Skahar shifting his cane, the distant clang of machinery through the deck. Outside the viewport, a freighter drifts into berth beneath the red wash of docking lights, trusting my station not to swallow it whole.

I let Theryki see me look at that ship.

Then I look back at her.

"You are right," I say.

Surprise flickers across her face before she can hide it.

"Tariffs and raids will not sustain a state," I continue. "Neither will pride. Neither will blood songs or old grievances or the joy of watching Helios executives lose sleep. My people need doctors, shipyards, schools, water rights, supply chains, recognition, trade partners, and laws that mean something after I leave the room."

Theryki softens her posture by a fraction, and I know she thinks she has found the opening.

"But," I say, allowing the word to land heavily, "if I sign any agreement before it serves those needs rather than your map, then I have not built a state. I have sold you a border with Reapers painted on it."

Her softness vanishes.

Skahar makes a quiet approving sound that I pretend not to hear.

Theryki clasps her hands before her. "You overestimate your leverage."

"Everyone says that until the invoice arrives."

"The Coalition does not need Guyver Station."

"No," I agree. "You merely want it badly enough to tolerate my company."