Page 252 of Reaper Said Mine

His expression hardens. “No.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Ursa.”

“Gnash.”

The people around me suddenly develop an intense interest in looking anywhere else. Bellamy turns slightly, but he stays close enough to intervene if my heart tries to make decisions my brain regrets.

Gnash lowers his voice. “Earth space is tightening. Routes are watched. Enemy forces track humanitarian corridors. You cannot come through now.”

“I can.”

“You should not.”

“I know the difference.”

His nostrils flare. “This is not stubborn bravery. This is walking into open jaws.”

“You live in open jaws.”

“I have teeth.”

“I have evidence.”

“Evidence does not stop a missile.”

“No, but it may stop the person authorizing one.”

That lands. I see it.

For several seconds, neither of us speaks. His command center crackles behind him with distant voices and sensor alerts. My spaceport roars around me with announcements, rolling luggage, security drones, and rain hammering glass. We are both surrounded by movement, both standing still inside it.

“I did not ask you to return,” he says.

“No. You asked me to see clearly.”

“I also need to ask you things you cannot dodge through a relay glitch,” I continue. “I need the treaty negotiation logs. I need internal casualty data tied to Coalition access expansion. I need proof of what Theryki pushed for and what you refused. I need to know whether there were terms you didn’t send because you thought they made you look weak.”

“I sent the agreement.”

“You sent the final text. I need the fight that produced it.”

His eyes narrow slightly, not in anger but recognition. “You think the negotiations themselves contain evidence.”

“I think every desperate clause tells a story. I think your amendments may prove the agreement was signed under coercive crisis pressure, not voluntary strategic alignment. I think that matters if the Alliance tries to justify intervention by calling you a Coalition proxy.”

Bellamy whispers, “Damn, that is good.”

Gnash’s gaze shifts briefly toward him. “Do not encourage her.”

“I tried discouraging her. It bounced off.”

I almost smile.

Gnash does not.

“Little reporter,” he says, and the softness of it hurts. “If they find your route⁠—”