For the truth.
And the cost.
Dowron stares at the crystal like it’s a loaded weapon.
And it is.
Not the kind that explodes, not the kind that leaves blood on the walls. But the kind that blows holes in power structures. In lies. In empires.
He doesn’t speak at first. Just holds it between his fingers, turning it like a relic, like he can feel the weight of all the dead embedded in the data. All the disappearances. The accidents. The silences.
Then he exhales through his nose.
And laughs.
Low. Bitter. Old.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he says.
Rhea stiffens beside me. “We’ve done what no one else would.”
“Brave. Stupid. Both.” He turns to me now. “And you, son... I thought I raised you smarter.”
I almost smile. Almost.
He looks like a ghost wearing armor—thin, hunched just slightly, dressed in a moth-eaten uniform that doesn’t fit right anymore. His medals are polished, but the pin holding them has snapped. His boots don’t shine. His fingers tremble when they curl into fists.
But his eyes?
His eyes haven’t changed a damn bit.
Still sharp enough to cut bone. Still full of fire.
He turns and walks—limps, really—around the table, pausing by the bulkhead. His shadow pools against the gleaming floor. When he speaks again, the brittle act falls away.
Voice sharpens.
Spine straightens.
He’s not some relic anymore.
He’s AdmiralCaius Dowron, war-hardened tactician, survivor of the Kessik Coup, orchestrator of the Silent Shield accords, and the one man the Combine hasn’t been able to kill or corrupt.
Yet.
“Listen carefully. We don’t have time for speeches. The Combine is three moves from full control. Not hypothetical. Not potential.I mean they’re in position.Ministries, relay hubs, ghost fleets—all theirs. The damn Council doesn’t even know they’ve already lost. You just gave me the only surviving thread that can unravel the whole weave.”
He holds up the data crystal.
“Every other source we had? Burned. Killed. Discredited. Hell, even thedead dropswe used back in the Shadowfront days got scraped. But this?” He tucks the crystal into a recessed slot in the table. “This gets to the right ears—maybewe stop them before it’s all too late.”
I breathe out through my nose. Slow. Focused.
Dowron’s words sit heavy on my shoulders.
Not surprising.
Not anymore.
