Page 31 of Reaper Said Mine

"She spent the morning in docking appeals," Orkan says. "Denied four times. Press office denied her once. She attended the upper concourse reception and spoke with Wilcox, Theryki, Gobold, two merchant captains, a sanitation supervisor, several market residents, and one school administrator. She recorded public shipyard activity and filed no broadcast segment yet, but her compad pinged independent encryption twice."

"To IHC?"

"First ping likely IHC. Second packet is harder to trace. Could be private archive."

Skahar’s gaze sharpens. "You are monitoring her transmissions."

"I monitor all journalists."

"How many by name?"

I ignore him. "Did she attempt restricted access?"

"No," Orkan says. "She stayed inside permitted corridors. Asked questions at every stop. Security reports she is persistent but compliant."

"Persistent but compliant," Vakka repeats. "That means annoying with paperwork."

"She asked the press clerk how to become relevant," Orkan adds.

I turn my head slowly. "What did the clerk say?"

"That becoming relevant was the queue Lord Gnash actually sees."

Despite the map glowing with Combine threat lines, laughter rises in my chest. It comes out low and rough. Vakka grins openly now, and even Orkan seems pleased by the absurdity of it.

Skahar does not. "You are entertained."

"She adapts."

"She is a reporter."

"She is on my station while every power within reach sharpens utensils."

"All the more reason to keep distance."

I look again at the map, at the lines of Helios movement, at the crowded corridors of my station represented by shifting lights, at the territory everyone around me intends to claim in one way or another. Ursa Ramone arrived with a camera, a reputation made by surviving other people’s war, and the inconvenient habit of noticing what official stories omit. That makes her dangerous. It also makes her useful, though perhaps not in any way I can safely control.

"Continue surveillance on her activities," I tell Orkan. "No interference unless she enters restricted areas or someone moves against her. I want to know who approaches her, what they offer, what they fear she will ask, and whether any Combine asset breathes too close to her."

Skahar’s cane strikes the floor once. "Gnash."

I meet his gaze. "She is a variable."

"She is a person."

"Those are often the most disruptive variables."

His old face tightens, and for once he looks less irritated than sad. "You hear yourself, yes?"

I do. I hear the coldness in the words. I also hear the shipyards working beyond the glass, the distant voices in my station, the memory of refugee bones under Badlands dust, and the gathering hum of fleets moving through dark corridors while polished ambassadors argue over who gets to put my people in a footnote.

"I hear everything," I say.

Skahar studies me for several seconds. Then he turns away first, which means he is angrier than if he had shouted.

Vakka gathers the intelligence compads. "Any further orders?"

"Yes. Find out where Ursa Ramone goes next."