SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

The door opened without a knock, and Trafalgar knew who it was before he looked up. Rhosyn stepped inside with an oilcloth bundle held against her chest, soaked through and leaving a trail of seawater across the floor. Her hands were shaking badly enough that the bundle moved with them.

”Shit.” Trafalgar was out of the chair at once. ”Are you hurt?”

”I’m fine. I found—”

”Later.” He took the bundle from her and set it on the table without opening it. ”Sit down first.”

Rhosyn looked at him, then at the bundle. ”Trafalgar—”

”Whatever’s in there survived quite some time underwater. It can wait another hour.” He guided her toward the bed, and she let him, which worried him more than the shaking did.

She sat on the edge of the mattress with both hands on her knees. Trafalgar brought her water, then a towel and blanket from the press by the window, putting the towel over her shoulders while seawater still ran from her hair.

”Drink.”

She finished the cup without speaking. He filled it again, and this time she drank more slowly while some colour returned to her face.

”How long were you holding the shell?”

Rhosyn took a moment before answering. ”Too long to be honest. After a while I couldn’t think about anything except keeping it stable.”

”Then the report can wait.”

”I’m not going to collapse.”

”I know.” Trafalgar glanced at her hands. ”Lie down anyway.”

Rhosyn held his gaze for a few seconds, then did it. Trafalgar pulled the blanket over her, left the water within reach and carried the oilcloth bundle to the far side of the room without opening it.

She watched him put it down. Nobody had done this for her in Euclid. There, you came back from a job and reported first, and if you were bleeding you reported while someone dealt with it.

Rhosyn kept the thought to herself and closed her eyes. She was asleep before Trafalgar returned to the chair.

When she woke, the room smelled of hot food. Bread and fish stew sat on the table beside more water, while Trafalgar sat near the window reading a port schedule.

”How long?”

”A few hours. Eat first.”

Rhosyn didn’t argue. She finished the bowl, most of the bread and another cup of water before Trafalgar moved his chair closer.

”All right. Tell me what you found.”

”The sector is still completely flooded. Floor to vaulting.” Rhosyn leaned back against the headboard. ”The silt makes it hard to see once you start moving. Most of the warehouse is damaged, and the ledgers on the shelves are gone.”

”The sealed crates?”

”Two survived. One had material inside, double-wrapped and dry. The other had records in a sealed box. Most of the pages are readable.”

Trafalgar crossed the room and brought the bundle back. He opened the oilcloth on the floor between them, careful with the wet edges, then loosened the cord around the first sack and stopped.

Rhosyn noticed. ”You know what it is.”

”I’ve seen it before.” Trafalgar leaned closer without touching the contents. ”In a mine on Morgain land. Somebody had been feeding a brood below on a fixed schedule, and they used this. But it seems to have had a different effect in this case; instead of mutating like that monster did, the person here has died. However, they undoubtedly share some things in common.”

”The same material?”

”The smell and colour match. So does the packing.” He closed the sack carefully. ”I’d want someone who knows the substance before calling it identical, but it’s close enough that I don’t like it.”

”Then it came from outside Meraval.”

”Much farther than that.” Trafalgar looked toward the records. ”Now we have something physical connecting this place to what happened back home.”

He opened the first packet. The edges were swollen and some of the ink had bled, but the central columns were still readable. Most of it was ordinary warehouse work: quantities, shelf locations, dates and names.

Trafalgar went through the delivery pages twice before setting one aside. ”Every delivery came through during a closure window, and each one has a fleet authorisation stamp.”

Rhosyn looked down at the page. ”So Brenn was right.”

”At least now I have paper saying the same thing.”

Until now, that part of the case had rested on a conversation at a reception. These dates matched the closures, and the fleet stamps were still there.

Rhosyn watched him continue through the pages. ”What’s missing?”

”The supplier.” Trafalgar spread the records apart. ”No port of origin, no seller, no manifest from the other end. Nothing that tells us where the shipments started.”

”I looked for it. The intake side of the warehouse is gone.” Rhosyn set her cup down. ”The rubble runs straight out through the breach.”

Trafalgar stopped turning pages. He pictured the four explosions again, moving through the ring in sequence before the dome opened.

”The eastern side?”

”Yes.”

Trafalgar looked down at the papers. ”Rhavel wasn’t just flooding the sector. The records showing where this came from would’ve been in the part he destroyed.”

”The charges started there.”

”Exactly.” His voice lowered. ”I thought he was willing to destroy part of Meraval to make sure I died with him. He was destroying the evidence too.”

Rhosyn looked at the sack and the records. ”We still brought enough back to prove something.”

”Enough for us.” Trafalgar gathered the pages carefully. ”Not enough for Ithanne. The sector is sealed and under an official recovery operation. If I put this in front of her, the first question is how it got into my room.” He looked at Rhosyn. ”I either tell her the truth and expose you, or refuse and give her a reason to distrust everything else.”

Rhosyn didn’t argue. She knew what her presence inside the flooded sector would look like if it became part of an official investigation.

Trafalgar stacked the records and wrapped them again. ”The recovery crews need to find their own evidence, or we need someone with enough authority to bring it out properly. Until then, this stays here.”

”It was still worth going.”

”It was.” Trafalgar tied the oilcloth closed. ”Now sleep. You’re done for today.”

Rhosyn lay back without answering. Trafalgar remained on the floor beside the bundle, checking the papers once more before putting them away, and when she finally closed her eyes, one thought stayed with her.

He had never asked whether she could have brought more.