Page 102 of Traitor For His Heir

To the human eye, nothing shifts.

To me, time fractures.

I close the panel and rise smoothly just as the technician announces, “Balance corrected.”

“Better,” I say, returning to the platform.

“Continue,” the media officer prompts.

Instead of speaking, I let the delay loop stabilize and glance toward the logistics terminal embedded into the wall—an auxiliary display for fleet deployment visuals during major broadcasts.

“That terminal,” I say, nodding toward it. “Does it mirror command projections?”

The technician glances at it. “Approved overlays only.”

“Show me,” I request. “If I’m acknowledging compromise, I’d prefer to understand the scale of what I jeopardized.”

The media officer hesitates, then gestures for limited access.

The technician unlocks surface-level fleet data.

I step toward the terminal, fingers hovering above the interface.

Three-point-eight seconds.

I pivot from fleet position overlays into projection modeling, riding the mirrored pathway deeper than the restrictions anticipate. Alliance systems are layered, but they rely on segmentation more than obfuscation.

A secondary panel opens.

Strategic simulations.

Outcome forecasts.

Casualty probability arcs.

I select a model flagged Stabilization Through Total Resolution.

The projection expands into a sweeping simulation of Badlands encirclement, phased escalation tightening across territory. Red lines collapse inward over cycles.

Projected outcome: 94% Reaper population loss.

Strategic benefit: Long-term trade corridor stabilization.

Acceptable attrition: Confirmed.

The air in my lungs feels momentarily insufficient.

I scroll.

Time stamps align with summit scheduling.

Authorization: Admiral Serrik Valen.

Another file surfaces—blast analytics. Data injection logs. Artificial harmonic signature embedding.

Kael’s clan baseline seeded into explosive trace prior to detonation.

It is not opportunism.