Page 6 of Reaper Said Mine

"According to whom?"

"According to the screaming survivors."

"Survivors can be truthful and incomplete."

He looks at me as if I have just suggested adopting a venomous pet. "That is the kind of sentence that gets carved on a memorial plaque."

I set my compad on the desk and open my research queue. "Gnash took Guyver Station from the Helios Combine eleven months ago. Since then, reported ship disappearances in that corridor have dropped."

"Reported by whom?"

"Independent insurers, two League merchant houses, and one Alzhon shipping cooperative that clearly hates admitting it."

Bellamy frowns despite himself. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Why did that not make the network packet?"

"Because 'Reaper warlord creates stable trade zone' is less clickable than 'spike-covered pirate king threatens civilized space.'"

He rubs a hand over his face. "I hate when you make the depressing point."

"Then stop giving me openings."

My desk display fills with files as I authorize the transfer to my private compad. Gnash's image appears in the upper left quadrant, pulled from a long-range diplomatic feed. Even through grain and distortion, he is impossible to mistake for anyone else. He stands among a cluster of Reaper warriors, massive even beside his own kind, his jet-black skin broken by pale bone spurs along his shoulders and forearms. Long silver hair falls loose around a face too severe to be handsome by any ordinary human standard, though ordinary standards tend to collapse when confronted with that much raw presence. Crimson eyes catch the camera's distant lens.

I should look away and focus on the documents.

I do not.

Bellamy notices because Bellamy notices everything except where he left his styluses. "That is him."

"Yes."

"He looks like a nightmare learned how to negotiate docking tariffs."

"Poetic."

"I do have hidden depths."

"You have hidden unpaid bar tabs."

"Also true." He watches the image with me. "What are you seeing?"

I enlarge the file and pull up adjacent footage. "Discipline."

"Where?"

"Look at the warriors behind him. No one fidgets. No one interrupts. Their formation is loose, but the sightlines are deliberate. They are positioned to shield him without crowding him. That is not a rabble."

"It could be fear."

"Fear breaks formation when panic starts. Loyalty holds."

Bellamy's expression changes. "You really believe there is a story there."

"I know there is."