A Quiet Summons
Anja found Jaya in the small, makeshift armory, methodically cleaning and recharging the pulse rifle. The air smelled of ozone and sharpening oil. Jaya's movements were economical, precise, her focus absolute. She looked up as Anja entered, her eyes narrowing at the cold, hard resolve on Anja's face.
"What is it?" Jaya's voice was a low command.
Anja didn't waste words. She laid the fisherman's logbook on the table beside the disassembled rifle. "Kael's solo trip north," she said, her voice tight. "The date he returned matches the timestamp on the transmission detailing the weakness in Tomas's perimeter. To the hour."
Jaya stopped her work. She picked up the logbook, her gaze scanning the entry, then moving to Anja's face. She didn't need to see the data slate. She saw the proof in Anja's eyes. Her expression, already hard as iron, seemed to solidify into granite.
"He was their courier," Anja stated, the words tasting like ash. "Sami told me. He brought back a special resin. A payment." Anja's voice broke on the last word, the simple, domestic detail a fresh wave of pain.
Jaya's knuckles were white where she gripped the rifle's stock. For a long, silent moment, she stared at the logbook, her mind re-aligning past events, past vulnerabilities, into a new, horrifying kind of sense. The near-miss with the patrol. The uncanny timing of the first attack. It was all there.
"Show me," Jaya said finally, her voice devoid of all emotion. It was the voice she used on the battlefield.
The Fisherman's Net
They found him on the eastern pontoons, his back to them, methodically mending a net. The familiar, rhythmic pass of the wooden shuttle in his capable hands was a hypnotic, peaceful sight that churned Anja's stomach. The sun was low, casting long shadows, and the scene was so achingly normal it felt like a violation.
He heard their footsteps on the planks and turned, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face as he saw Anja. "Anja! I was just thinking about you. I have that resin for Sami's wheel." His smile faltered as he saw Jaya standing behind her, and the cold, unforgiving look on Anja's face. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flicker of something guarded, cornered.
"Kael," Jaya's voice was quiet, conversational, but it held the flat, deadly tone of a blade being drawn from a sheath. "Anja tells me you've been taking long trips north. Finding any new fishing grounds?"
Kael's hands stilled on the net. He didn't look at Jaya. His eyes were fixed on Anja, a silent, pleading question in them. "The old grounds are fished out," he said, his voice a little too casual. "A man has to look further afield to make a catch."
"And what is it you've been catching, Kael?" Jaya pressed, taking a slow step forward. "Or is it what you've been delivering?"
Kael dropped the shuttle. The small piece of wood clattered on the deck, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden, tense silence. He finally tore his gaze from Anja and looked at Jaya, his face a mixture of terror and resignation. The hunt was over.
The Confession
"They have my family," Kael whispered, the words a raw, broken confession. "My parents. My sister. They never made it to a real camp after the floods. They were captured by Voss's crew years ago."
He looked back at Anja, his eyes swimming with a desperate, pleading grief. "I didn't know who you were, at first. But they found me on a scouting trip. They showed me proof they were alive. A recent picture. They looked… thin. But alive." He swallowed hard, his composure crumbling. "They offered me a deal. Information for food. Medicine for my mother. They promised that when they took this place, my family would be safe, would have a place here. A real home."
His voice dropped to a choked whisper. "What was I supposed to do? Let them starve? Let my family die because of a loyalty to people I had only just met?" He looked around at the flotilla, at the home he had been systematically betraying. "This place… it started to feel like a real home. You, Anja… you made me feel that. And every message I carried felt like I was poisoning my own well. But I kept seeing their faces."
The betrayal was no longer simple. It was a tangled, agonizing knot of impossible choices. He was not a monster. He was a son and a brother, caught in a trap, forced to sacrifice one family for another. The knowledge didn't lessen the sting of his betrayal, but it made it a profound, human tragedy.
The Price of Betrayal
Jaya listened to his entire confession without a flicker of emotion on her face. Her expression was as hard and unreadable as a stone. When he was finished, a long, heavy silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle lapping of water.
"You chose your family," Jaya said finally, her voice flat. "And in doing so, you condemned ours."
She drew the heavy pulse pistol from her hip. Anja's breath caught in her throat. Kael didn't flinch. He simply closed his eyes, a single tear tracing a path through the grime on his cheek. He had made his choice. He was ready for the consequences.
"Jaya, no," Anja whispered, stepping forward.
"Stay back, Anja," Jaya commanded, her voice like steel. She was no longer a member of the council. She was the absolute commander of security, and a threat had been identified. The sentence was clear. "He is a threat. As long as he is alive, they have leverage. He cannot be trusted."
But she didn't fire. She held the pistol steady, her gaze locked on Kael. It wasn't a trial. It was a tactical assessment.
"Tell me everything," Jaya said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "Every route you took. Every dead drop. Every signal. Every face you saw. You will hold nothing back. Your family's survival now depends on how useful you are to me. And if I find you've lied about a single detail," she pressed the barrel of the pistol to his forehead, "I will not be so merciful."
Kael opened his eyes, the terror in them replaced by a tiny, desperate flicker of hope. He began to talk, his voice a torrent of information, the words spilling out of him, a final, desperate attempt to re-align his loyalties, to save what little he had left in a world that had taken everything else.