Sable peels back the first layer.
“Med patches,” she says, unimpressed.
Then she digs deeper, and her posture changes.
“What?” I ask.
She holds up a case.
Alliance-issued.
My stomach drops in the slow, sick way it does when a theory becomes a fact.
Inside the case: encryption modules.
Not civilian grade. Not black-market spares.
Alliance procurement stamps. Serial numbers. Proper packaging. A set of communication keys that can slide into military systems like they belong there.
For a moment, the room goes very quiet.
The air smells like chilled plastic and the faint metallic tang of my own anger.
Nera, standing behind me, whispers, “Those are?—”
“Alliance-issued,” I say, voice flat.
Sable nods once. “Fresh. Not old surplus.”
Orin’s eyes are wide now. “So the Nine is?—”
“Embedded,” I finish.
The word tastes like poison.
Bribery is one thing. Bribery is messy. Bribery leaves trails.
This?
This is deeper.
This is procurement.
This is communications access.
This is someone inside the Alliance stamping boxes and sending them to the Nine like it’s routine.
Morazin’s smug voice echoes in my head again:Someone in High Command signed the access keys.
I stare at the modules until my vision sharpens around the edges.
“They’re not just bribing officials,” I murmur. “They’re inside the bloodstream.”
Nera’s voice is tight. “Or someone’s selling Alliance stock to them.”
“Either way,” I say, “it confirms the same thing.”
I look up, meeting their eyes one by one.
