Bryan closed his eyes briefly.
"I knew we would return to this."
"We never left it."
"No. I suppose not."
Bryan opened a drawer and removed a folded scrap of treated paper.
He slid it across the table.
Rohan unfolded it.
It was not a plan. Not exactly.
It was a list.
Merchant-controlled movement categories.
Empty container return.
Guard rotation.
Waste reclamation.
Private crew stores.
Damaged equipment transfer.
Medical quarantine.
Atmospheric shuttle maintenance.
Each line had notes beside it: visibility, scan likelihood, Veyrhold trace risk, physical access probability.
Rohan stared.
"You made this."
"I made observations."
"This is more than observations."
"This is not permission."
"But it is help."
Bryan looked away.
His voice, when it came, was rougher than before.
