Page 178 of Red Scale Daddy
Command is colder than engineering, or perhaps it only feels that way because every surface has been built to imply judgment. Displays curve around the central platform in overlapping tiers, each one filled with tactical projections, sensor cones, weapon statuses, and fragments of the core rendered in violent color. Throgg stands at the center beneath a suspended map, his hands clasped behind his back while my false data rotates in front of him.
He does not turn when I enter.
“You found him,” he says.
“I found evidence of a signal-handling structure consistent with his methods.”
“Careful wording.”
“Accurate wording.”
He lifts one hand, and the map expands. The Thorn Shelf blooms in three dimensions: debris fields, shear currents, heat signatures, and predator movement estimates. My inserted path glows along the outer edge, just close enough to promise pursuit and just dangerous enough to punish impatience.
Throgg turns then, his eyes fixed on mine. “This route leads toward Zenos territory.”
“Yes.”
“You think your father hides near predators.”
“I think my father uses danger the way other people use walls.”
That earns the faintest curve of his mouth. “And you inherited this habit?”
“I prefer doors.”
“You prefer systems you can control.”
“Doors are systems.”
He studies me for the space of several breaths, and I keep my face arranged around irritation rather than fear. Fear would be honest. Irritation is useful.
“Why transmit this immediately?” he asks.
“Because the signal was unstable.”
“You could have hidden it.”
“Yes.”
“You did not.”
“No.”
“Convince me this is not bait.”
I let out a short laugh, controlled enough to sound contemptuous. “Everything in the core is bait. Your ship is bait. My ship is bait. My father’s signal is bait whether he intends it or not. The useful question is whether the bait has a hook in the right place.”
His eyes brighten.
He likes that.
Predators appreciate predatory framing.
I step closer to the projection and point toward the false convergence region. “This sector has repeating heat anomalies consistent with small-craft operation under intermittent power. The movement pattern avoids your usual patrol cones, which suggests he has mapped your habits. If he detected my ship, he may shift position again within the next cycle.”
“And if I move too quickly?”
“You spook him.”
