Page 29 of Reaper Said Mine

"That is your advice?"

"It has served me well."

"It has put you on every watchlist in civilized space."

"Civilization watches because it cannot stop staring."

Theryki taps one claw lightly against her glass. "You mistake attention for legitimacy."

"No, Ambassador. I mistake nothing. That is why you find me irritating."

By the time I dismiss them, Gobold’s aides look pale, Theryki’s legal clerks look murderous, Wilcox looks exhausted, and I feel almost cheerful.

Skahar waits until the doors close before speaking.

"You are a gifted disaster."

I turn toward the viewport. Outside, a salvage tug guides a battered freighter into the repair dock. Its hull bears Helios markings that someone has burned through with a cutting torch. "That sounded like praise."

"It was grief wearing a thin coat."

"I got medical composite, hazard channel language, and public acknowledgment that Coalition observer authority remains unresolved."

"You also goaded Gobold into nearly threatening mass death in front of Coalition witnesses, accused the Alliance of historical cowardice, told Theryki her offer was a collar, and suggested Wilcox improve her career prospects by becoming harder to ignore."

"She appreciated the advice."

"She looked tempted to stab you with a dessert fork."

"That may be how humans express gratitude."

Skahar limps closer, each step punctuated by the tap of his cane. "Listen to me, boy."

I glance down at him. He calls me that only when he is worried enough to forget I command the station.

He continues before I can object. "You are provoking every faction at once. The Coalition wants to own your future. The Alliance wants to prevent that future from existing. Helios wants you erased because your survival is bad for business and worse for memory. You are making each of them angrier while believing anger makes them careless."

"Often, it does."

"Often is not always."

I look back through the armor-glass. The shipyard lights shimmer across my reflection, throwing my crimson eyes back at me as if some other creature watches from the dark. "Fearful enemies wait. Angry enemies move."

"Yes. Sometimes they move together."

The words sit heavily in the chamber.

A door opens behind us before I can answer. Vakka enters with two intelligence officers, both carrying sealed compads. The amusement drains from me before they reach the table. Reapers do not bring sealed compads for rumors.

"Report," I say.

Vakka places the first compad on the table and activates the display. A star map blooms above the Combine border, threads of red and amber marking recent fleet movement. "Outer listening posts picked up staggered Helios traffic through three commercial relay shadows. Six confirmed military hulls. Maybe more running cold. Two cruisers, three escort carriers, one logistics spine."

Skahar’s cane stops moving.

I study the map. "Destination?"

"Officially, maintenance rotation near Veyr’s Anvil."