Page 97 of Reaper Said Mine

“Then why?”

“Because she was using me.”

His expression darkens.

I lift a hand before his protective fury can take over the whole room. “No. Listen to me before you start looking like you want to bite through a bulkhead.”

His eyes narrow. “I do not look like that.”

“You absolutely look like that.”

One of the guards near the door suddenly becomes fascinated by the ceiling.

Gnash gives him a lethal glance, then turns back to me. “Speak.”

I set my compad on the table and project my notes into the air between us. Lines of text, arrows, time stamps, clause references, and color-coded faction notes bloom in a messy halo. Gnash’s brows draw together. He steps closer, and the heat of him brushes my arm.

“Theryki is not prioritizing military access the way it looks on the surface,” I say. “She lets Gobold attack those clauses because they’re obvious. While he swings at them, she keeps embedding administrative dependency into trade, legal review, tariffs, and emergency dispute processes.”

Gnash scans the notes. “I saw the data-sharing trap.”

“Yes, but it’s bigger than data. Look here.” I flick two clauses together. “Traffic information feeds into anti-piracy coordination, which feeds into emergency review authority, which triggers observer access when disputes exceed a volatility threshold. Who defines volatility? A joint board. Who appoints the first neutral chair? Coalition arbitration under provisional recognition standards.”

His face goes very still.

I continue, because the pattern is bright now and ugly. “She doesn’t need you to hand over defense corridors on day one. She needs you to accept a framework where ordinary station operations produce enough procedural disputes to invite Coalition oversight. Once that oversight exists, she can argue increased presence is not expansion. It’s compliance.”

Gnash’s claws flex.

“Clever,” he says.

“Very.”

“You sound almost admiring.”

“I admire skill. I dislike what she’s doing with it.”

His gaze shifts from the projection to me. “And Gobold?”

“Gobold wants something simpler. He wants you afraid enough of Coalition capture to accept Alliance steel in your corridors. He uses words like deterrence and advisory support, but his version of stability requires armed presence close enough to force escalation if anyone twitches.”

Gnash grunts. “Yes.”

“And Wilcox knows it.”

“She serves the Alliance.”

“She serves Earth inside the Alliance, and those are not identical interests.” I highlight several of her comments. “She pushed back whenever Gobold’s proposals risked civilian trade or Earth merchant exposure. She doesn’t trust you, but she also doesn’t trust the Alliance military to protect human interests if this becomes a chest-thumping contest.”

“Chest-thumping contest,” Gnash repeats.

“It is a technical term.”

His mouth curves faintly. “Human diplomacy is colorful.”

“Human diplomacy is mostly paperwork and caffeine, but we have our moments.”

He studies the projection again. The longer he looks, the more I sense his anger shifting into calculation. This is the version of him people keep underestimating. The strategist. The builder. The man who can put revenge in one hand, survival in the other, and still ask which weighs more when his people are at stake.