Page 103 of Reaper Said Mine

Ursa’s humor vanishes. She reaches for one of the papers with my glance for permission, then frowns as she reads. “He keeps using the phrase temporary stabilization presence.”

“Yes,” Skahar says. “A soldier’s lullaby.”

“He wants boots here before Theryki gets observers here,” Ursa says. “Not because he thinks you’ll accept it, though. He knows you won’t.”

I fold my arms. “Then why send it?”

“Because he wants a rejection in writing.” She taps the document. “If you refuse security assistance after multiple reported irregularities, he can later argue you knowingly ignored Alliance warnings. If something happens, he’ll say you chose pride over safety.”

Skahar looks at me.

I look at Ursa.

She continues, warming into the analysis now, the exhaustion burning off under the force of focus. “And if you accept even limited Alliance presence, the Coalition says you compromised neutrality. Theryki then pressures you to balance it with Coalition observers. Either way, outside forces gain physical or legal entry.”

I growl.

Skahar smiles faintly. “Useful, this one.”

Ursa does not look up from the paper. “This one has a name.”

“So does trouble.”

She finally glances at him, unimpressed. “I can see why you two get along.”

“We do not get along,” I say.

Skahar nods. “We endure each other for the good of history.”

“And because I have not thrown you.”

“And because he loves me,” Skahar tells Ursa.

I stare at him in silence.

Ursa’s face softens as she looks between us. She sees too much again. The old bond between captain and successor, father and son though neither of us would use that language without choking on it, survivor and survivor. She files it somewhere behind her eyes, not as weakness, but as evidence. In another journalist, that would frighten me. With Ursa, it only makes me feel more seen than is comfortable.

Skahar’s expression shifts, his humor turning blade-thin. “You must answer pressure with pressure.”

“I know.”

“No, boy. You know how to answer threat with threat. This is not the same.”

Ursa folds her arms. “He should make demands they can’t easily accept.”

Skahar’s cloudy eye brightens. “Say more.”

I look at her too.

She takes another bite of broth, apparently deciding she can dismantle three factions while eating. “Theryki is using morality against him, so he needs to force the Coalition to put their morality in writing. If they want anti-trafficking partnership standards, fine. Demand full Coalition recognition of all refugees currently residing on Guyver Station as protected residents, including former Coalition contract laborers and anyone with disputed legal status.”

Skahar’s cane stops tapping.

I lean toward the projection. “The Coalition will hesitate. Some of those workers were moved through Coalition-aligned contractors.”

“Exactly,” Ursa says. “Make them choose between looking benevolent and protecting the people who profited.”

A slow smile pulls at my mouth. “Continue.”