Page 258 of Reaper Said Mine

“That’s not good,” she says.

“No kidding.”

My compad vibrates.

Gnash, live text.

Your route just lit three threat monitors.

My pulse kicks hard.

I type back.

I noticed.

His reply comes immediately.

Turn back.

I look at the sleeping courier, the cargo handler, the narrow aisle, Rana’s too-calm face, and the evidence moving in hidden places around me. I think of Guyver’s shelters, of the Alliance officer’s sister on Bravax, of Tomas, of Rekk, of Gnash telling me revenge had failed him.

Then I type the truth.

Too late.

For several seconds, no reply comes.

Then:

Then be harder to kill than they expect.

I almost laugh.

Rana arches a brow. “Good news?”

“He’s being supportive in Reaper.”

“Which means?”

“Basically, don’t die and make it humiliating for them.”

“Solid relationship.”

“It has texture.”

The transport changes course.

Not much.

Enough.

My stomach understands before the navigation display confirms it. We are being nudged toward the medical inspection corridor where the registered cutter waits. Maybe legitimate. Maybe hostile. Maybe someone’s idea of a polite abduction.

I activate the third contingency and open a public-safe recording window. My face appears in the preview, pale but steady, with the transport cabin behind me.

“My name is Ursa Ramone,” I say quietly. “I am aboard medical freight transfer Hestia-Seven en route to Ceres Relay under committee authorization. If this recording publishes, our route has been illegally intercepted while carrying evidence relevant to the Badlands crisis, including data tied to Combine shell vessels, Alliance intervention planning, Coalition treaty leverage, and civilian casualty events at Dakkor and Bravax.”

Rana watches me with unreadable eyes.