Page 280 of Reaper Said Mine

Skahar grips his cane. “You go yourself.”

“Yes.”

“You take how many?”

“Enough.”

“That is not a number. That is a young captain’s answer wearing a ruler’s armor.”

I step close enough that only he and the nearest officers hear me clearly. “If I strip the corridors, they win. If I leave Ursa to be taken, they win differently. I will take the Black Mercy, two fast Reaper cutters, and whatever Coalition craft Theryki can spare without weakening the civilian shield.”

Vakka’s eyes flash. “You are asking Theryki for rescue support?”

“I am using every tool on the table.”

Skahar’s mouth shifts, not quite a smile. “That sounds unpleasantly mature.”

“I dislike it too.”

Krell’s voice cuts in. “Boarding signal from Hestia-Seven just dropped. Internal comms gone.”

The command center narrows around that sentence.

Ursa in a damaged cabin.

Ursa with smoke in her lungs.

Ursa clutching evidence while armored cowards step through a blown hatch.

The old monster inside me wakes, stretches, and asks for the coordinates of every throat.

I do not cage it.

I aim it.

“Open channel to Theryki,” I say.

Her image appears above the table almost instantly, as if she has been waiting for the request. Her scales shine blue under fleet light, and her expression hardens when she sees my face.

“I received the distress packet,” she says.

“I need fast craft.”

“You have them.”

No bargaining. No clause. No elegant poison.

For one moment, I almost like her.

Almost.

“Do not pull from civilian shield.”

“I will send two interceptors from the rear screen and one medical skiff. They will rendezvous with your launch vector.”

“Good.”

“Lord Gnash,” she says, and something in her voice changes. “If this is a trap designed to draw you out⁠—”