Page 169 of Reaper Said Mine

Skahar’s cloudy eye narrows. “Did Ursa receive the request?”

Vakka checks another feed, then swears under her breath. “Yes. Direct to her press channel.”

I turn toward the exit.

Skahar catches my arm with his cane, not hard enough to stop me physically, but enough to remind me that killing an elder would upset several scheduling priorities. “Let her answer.”

“He does not get near her.”

“Agreed. But if you storm in before he speaks, you learn nothing except that you remain predictable.”

Vakka’s mouth twists. “I hate when the old bastard is right.”

“He usually is,” I say.

Skahar looks pleased. “Put that in writing before you die of shame.”

I open a secure channel to Ursa, but she has already accepted the meeting under restricted observation protocols, because of course she has. Vakka routes the feed to my wrist without asking. The image blooms small and sharp above my comm: Ursa in the archive room, standing rather than sitting, hair tied back, green eyes cold, compad in hand. Zune appears in holo only, not physically present, which is the first intelligent decision he has made aboard my station.

His smile is paternal.

I hate it immediately.

“Ms. Ramone,” he says. “Thank you for agreeing to speak.”

“I agreed to listen. Those are not the same.”

His smile deepens. “You are every bit as direct as advertised.”

“You should hear what people say about you.”

“I imagine much of it is unkind.”

“Accurate things often are.”

Vakka makes a low approving sound beside me.

Zune clasps his hands before him. His legal aide is not visible, but I hear paper shift somewhere off-frame, which tells me he has witnesses of his own. “I will be brief. Your recent reporting has created turbulence. Markets dislike turbulence. Governments dislike turbulence. People who maintain necessary systems dislike turbulence most of all.”

Ursa’s expression does not change. “That sounded almost like a point.”

“It is a warning.”

The catwalk seems to shrink around me.

Ursa tilts her head. “Good. I prefer when threats stop wearing perfume.”

Zune’s eyes cool. “You misunderstand your position. You are very visible at the moment. Visibility can feel like protection to people inexperienced with power. In truth, it often provides a cleaner target.”

Vakka’s hand tightens on her carbine.

Skahar says softly, “Listen.”

Ursa’s voice remains steady. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Zune?”

“I am explaining consequences. You are far from Earth, dependent on hostile hosts, entangled with a violent non-state actor, and increasingly isolated from your own institution. If something unfortunate happened to you, there would be many plausible narratives.”

My vision narrows.