Chapter 17. Report
I stood in front of the mirror in my chambers, adjusting the high collar of my dress uniform. Scarlet velvet, silver embroidery in the form of stylized drops, a perfect strict silhouette. Today I had to do more than just report on the mission. Today I had to convince the Council of the need for a new, crazy course.
In the reflection, it wasn't a sixteen-year-old girl who looked at me, but the heir to the Clan. A cold, detached face. Eyes in which the last sparks of recent excitement had died out, giving way to a steely gleam. I hid my obsession with the dark Hunter deep inside, under layers of practiced restraint. They couldn't see anything but confidence and calculation.
The large doors to the Council Chamber slid open in front of me with a thud. The air inside was thick with the smell of old wood, incense, and silent, oppressive power. They were sitting at a massive oval table in the semi-darkness, under the light of blood-red stained-glass windows. The elders. Those whose decisions determined the fate of thousands.
My father, Solomon, sat at the head. His face was an impenetrable mask. On my right hand was my grandfather, Michael, and his gaze, heavy and all—seeing, felt physically like an X-ray. On my left was Uncle Ragnar, who wasn't looking at me, but was staring at the map on the table, but every muscle in his body was tense, like a predator ready to spring. There were others nearby, their faces merging into a single austere canvas of expectation and judgment.
I walked to the center of the room and stopped, standing at attention.
"The report on the mission to eliminate the Rift in sector 7-Gamma is ready to be submitted," my voice sounded flat, metallic, without a single note of tremor.
"Speak, heiress,— Solomon said. His tone was neutral, matter-of-fact.
I started it. Clearly, dryly, without unnecessary emotions, as I was taught. Coordinates. The composition of the group. Fault Characteristics. Initial contact with the enemy. A coordinated SP-series attack. I described everything, right down to the desperate decision of one of the soldiers... and the subsequent appearance of the Unknown.
And that's when my voice, trained over the years, almost faltered. I forced myself to continue, putting into words not horror and admiration, but cold analytical interest.
— An unknown subject has displayed unclassified combat abilities. The threat was eliminated with efficiency surpassing all known analogues, without the use of Will or other detectable energy signature. The subject acted alone, and his motivation remains unclear. After the threat was eliminated, the subject entered into verbal contact, demanding to leave the territory, and retreated. No harassment attempts were made due to the priority of the main task.
I finished. There was silence in the hall, broken only by the crackling of logs in the giant fireplace.
The first to break the silence was one of the elders, a gray-haired man with a scarred face. —And you're saying that this... subject... destroyed more than three dozen SP-07s on his own?" Without using your Will? It's impossible.
—I'm saying what I saw with my own eyes, Elder," I retorted, not looking down. — The records from my personal recorder are damaged by a powerful empirical surge from the closure of the Fault. But my testimony, as well as that of my father and uncle, is consistent.
—His description,— Michael chimed in, his deep, booming voice filling the room without needing to raise his pitch. — Corresponds to zero data in all our archives. Ghost. An anomaly.
—An anomaly with the power to turn the tide of any battle," I immediately interjected, clearly and clearly. This was my chance. — A force that does not obey the laws known to us. A force that we cannot ignore.
Another elder, a woman with razor—sharp eyes, said tartly, "Or who will ignore us." He told you to leave. He's obviously not looking for acquaintances.
"He wasn't looking for a confrontation either,— I retorted. "He was responding to a threat. To the "noise," as he put it. His actions were not aggressive, but... preventive. This indicates the presence of primitive logic, not blind rage. You can use this.
I paused, letting the words settle. — I suggest not waiting for this anomaly to manifest itself again, perhaps already against us. I suggest we find her. Study. And... offer a deal.
There was a murmur in the hall. "A deal? With a wild beast?", "Madness!", "He will cut out any squad that dares to approach him!".
"He didn't hurt us," I said loudly over the noise. "He had his chance. He didn't use it. This is the key. He doesn't kill for no reason. He has rules. So you can talk to him.
I looked around the room, meeting everyone's gaze. — We are spending enormous resources to contain the Abyss. We're losing our best fighters. And he... he solves the problem alone. Imagine if this force were on our side. Directed. Controlled.
— And how do you propose to achieve this, girl? The gray—haired elder asked skeptically. — Should I bring him a treat and ask him to serve?
—No,— I replied coldly. "I suggest we offer him something he doesn't have." What he, a lone hunter in the deadlands, needs. Information. Resources. Access to what is hidden from others. And... an interesting goal. He's looking for a use for his power. We can give him the hardest part.
I saw my father nod almost imperceptibly. Grandpa Michael looked at me carefully, assessing me.
"It's extremely risky, Quinn,— Solomon finally said. — One wrong step…
—... and we'll have the most dangerous enemy in our history," I finished for him. — But there are no risk-free victories. I am ready to lead this mission. A small group. Observation. Intelligence service. Establishing contact only with full confidence.
My voice didn't waver. I was burning from the inside, but from the outside I was ice.
The Council began to make noise again. There were arguments, the pros and cons were weighed. But I saw that the seed had been planted. They were intimidated by this power, but they couldn't give up on its potential benefits. Greed and fear are the perpetual motion machines of politics.
Eventually, Solomon raised his hand, demanding silence. — The Council accepts the proposal of the Queen heiress for consideration. A decision will be made after reviewing all the data. Quinn, you're free. Prepare a detailed plan of operations. We will study it.
I saluted, turned around, and left the room. The heavy doors closed behind me, cutting off the hum of voices.
Only then did I lean against the cold stone wall of the hallway and let myself exhale. My palms were wet. My heart was pounding.
I did it. I not only reported, I challenged. I suggested a ghost hunt. And I was given a chance.
Now everything depended on me. And from him. It depends on whether a wild hunter with brown eyes wants to accept my rules. Or he will install his own.
I pushed off from the wall and walked away with firm steps. I needed maps, reports, anything that could lead me to him. The hunt had begun.