Page 206 of Reaper Said Mine

“I am old. I contain contradictions.”

A harsh sound leaves me. It is almost a laugh and almost something else.

He steps closer, lowering his voice for me alone. “You made mistakes. You will make more before this is done. If guilt teaches you, let it speak. If guilt tries to rule you, rip out its tongue.”

I look back at the feed. The Reaper woman reaches another hatch. Static breaks across the image. When it clears, the corridor behind her is full of smoke.

“What if revenge has ruled me longer than I knew?”

Skahar’s expression does not soften, but his voice does. “Then perhaps it is tired.”

The words settle somewhere deep.

Perhaps it is tired.

Perhaps I am.

I think of Ursa in Earth space, facing Dawson, politicians, analysts, and every polished coward who would rather let the Badlands burn than admit the first spark came from clean offices and legal agreements. I think of her message. Then I will make here matter. She is fighting with evidence while I fight with ships I do not have enough of and allies I do not trust.

I envy her blade.

“Lord Gnash,” Vakka says. “Coalition wing engaged at Rekk. They report heavy resistance and request authorization for bombardment of hostile cutters near Habitat Two.”

“Civilian risk?”

“Moderate if shields fail.”

“Then no bombardment. Boarding action only.”

Theryki’s head turns sharply. “That increases Coalition casualties.”

“It also keeps my civilians from being cooked in their own halls.”

“Your response ships are still fourteen minutes out.”

“Then your soldiers can earn their poetry.”

Her mouth tightens, but she relays the order.

I turn to Krell. “Send all available evacuation routes to Coalition command. Give them schoolroom locations, med-bay access codes, and civilian shelter markers.”

Skahar’s gaze cuts to me.

Internal access codes. More doors.

I feel the cost.

I give the order anyway.

Krell sends the packet with shaking hands.

The command center becomes a storm of voices, coordinates, casualty estimates, and desperate calculations. For nearly an hour, we fight for Rekk through other people’s cameras. Coalition soldiers breach through Dock Two. Reaper reinforcements arrive behind them, roaring across comms. Combine cutters attempt withdrawal. One escapes. Two die. One surrenders and begins transmitting civilian distress claims before its engines cool.

By the time the first stable report arrives, thirty-nine people from Rekk are dead.

Eleven are children.

The command center does not fall silent. War does not allow that kindness. Reports continue, orders continue, repairs continue, the living continue demanding attention with their inconsiderate need to survive.