It’s not much visually—sealed strips, a drive, a printed digest of key logs—but it feels like setting a live grenade down and hoping the right person recognizes the pin.
Clint steps forward and adds his own verification stamps—time-synced hashes, chain-of-custody markers he generated on his ship.
Dowron sits. He doesn’t touch the packet at first. He studies it like it’s trying to trick him.
Then he opens it.
He reviews in silence for a long minute, eyes moving fast, fingers precise. He doesn’t ask questions while he reads. He doesn’t perform outrage. He just absorbs.
When he finally looks up, his voice is flat.
“Mercenary impersonation,” he says.
My chest tightens with relief and fury at once. “Yes.”
Dowron nods slightly. “Those units moved like hired professionals, not Alliance shock troops.”
Clint’s mouth tightens. “We verified the encryption header too. Spoof chain. Not Alliance military.”
Dowron leans back and steeples his fingers. The jammer field makes the air feel thick, like it’s pressing on my ears.
“The cruiser,” I say carefully. “Alliance-marked. How?—?”
Dowron’s eyes cut to mine. “Captured or repurposed.”
My heart pounds. “How do you know?”
He holds my gaze, and something cold flickers there.
“I’m not answering that,” he says.
Of course he’s not.
Because institutions don’t give you the truth. They ration it.
I lean forward anyway, hands flat on the table. “Then do something.”
Dowron’s expression doesn’t change. “We will.”
“Publicly?” I ask, hope and dread tangling.
Dowron’s gaze hardens. “No.”
The word hits like a door slamming.
“What?” I snap, unable to stop it. “You have proof that this is a false flag. People were executed. A prison station was bombarded. You can stop a war.”
Dowron’s voice stays calm, which makes me want to scream. “Public admission triggers retaliations. Weakens Vakutan credibility. Gives hardliners exactly the excuse they want.”
“That’s—” My throat tightens. “That’s cowardice dressed up as strategy.”
Dowron’s eyes sharpen. “Watch your tone.”
Clint shifts slightly, like he’s bracing for impact. He looks sick, like he knew this was coming and hoped anyway.
Dowron leans forward, voice low and blunt. “Truth is not always stability.”
The phrase lands like a weight on my chest.
