To Feed the Worm God

[Noth Squadron]

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“If they are upgrading frames...” Mercer said, “...then something higher up expects resistance. And if clearance was denied, it means we are not meant to concern ourselves with the reasons.”

His gaze held on Dirk for a moment. Four’s comment about the cold lingered in the air. Mercer acknowledged it with the faintest shift of attention.

“You will adjust.” he said, neither dismissive nor sympathetic.

Only then did he reach down beside his chair and lift the slim case onto the table. He did not push it forward. He kept it within his own reach.

“You asked if I brought anything fancy,” he said calmly. “I did not.”

His fingers rested on the latches, but he did not open them yet.

“Fancy draws attention. Attention invites inspection. Inspections lead to questions.”

“What I brought is controlled.” he went on. “Designed for localized deployment. Temporary effects. Nothing that carries Wild signatures, and nothing that traces back to us.”

That last point mattered more than the rest.

He released one latch and lifted the lid only slightly, just enough for Dirk to see the matte containment cylinders nested inside without giving the room a clear view. Industrial. Unmarked. Functional.

Then he closed it again.

“This does not change fleet balance.” Mercer said evenly. “It changes behavior. It makes corridors uncertain. It makes boarding actions slower. It makes decisions hesitate.”

He folded his hands lightly over the case.

“We do not outgun refitted wings. We remain useful to the ones who fly them.”

His eyes shifted briefly between Dirk and Four before settling again.

“If escalation is coming in the lanes, then our role is not spectacle. It is leverage.”

The case remained closed.

And now the meeting had truly begun.

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