Rohan looked up.
"I already am."
Iri’s face tightened, but she did not interrupt.
Rohan continued, carefully.
"I will not pretend otherwise. Captain Odris has made it clear that the petition will die slowly unless something changes. If there is another legal lever, I will use it. If the memory unit can become leverage, I will use that too. But if all they offer is delay, then I need to consider boarding without permission."
Elder Sava closed her eyes.
Liora looked down at the table.
Jorren’s expression darkened.
Iri spoke, voice strained. "And if you are caught?"
"Then it depends how I am caught."
"That is a terrible answer."
"It is an honest one."
She shook her head.
"No. Honesty is not enough this time. If you are caught in Veyrhold cargo, they blame us. If you are caught using a Veyrhold pass, they blame us. If you are caught with one of our workers helping you, they blame us. If you are caught after someone here lies for you, they blame us. They will call it breach of trade trust and charge us until our children are paying for your attempt."
Rohan nodded.
"That is why any plan involving Veyrhold cargo, documents, or direct assistance is unacceptable."
Bryan looked sharply at him.
"You have thought this through."
"I have been trying."
"And what remains?"
Rohan hesitated.
Then he unfolded Bryan’s list and placed it on the table.
Bryan grimaced as everyone looked at him.
Iri stared at the list, then at Bryan with betrayal in her eyes.
He sighed.
"I made observations. Not a plan."
"You made categories," she said.
"Categories are not crimes."
"They are when Rohan is involved."
Rohan wisely said nothing.
Maerin took the list and read it.
Her face gave away nothing, but her fingers paused over one line.
"Damaged equipment transfer," she said.
Tavin leaned forward.
"That is plausible. Merchant crews moved two damaged atmospheric stabiliser housings from the southern maintenance tent after the second shuttle cycle today. They used their own handlers, not Veyrhold workers, and the scan was light because the equipment originated from the shuttle."
Rohan looked at her.
"You noticed that?"
"I notice equipment," Tavin said. "Especially equipment I am not allowed to touch."
Bryan nodded slowly.
"If a transfer originates from a merchant shuttle and returns to the orbital vessel as damaged ship property, Veyrhold trace is minimal."
Iri’s expression hardened. "Minimal is not none."
"No," Bryan said. "But less than any other category."
Maerin looked at Rohan.
"You would still need access to the merchant maintenance area."
"Yes."
"You would need to avoid heat scans, weight checks, motion sensors, and crew observation."
"Yes."
"You would need to survive inside whatever casing or compartment you used until the shuttle docked with the Gilded Heron."
"Yes."
"You would then need to exit before the equipment is opened, repaired, sterilised, or thrown into something worse."
"Yes."
"And after reaching the main ship, you would be an unregistered stowaway inside a vessel controlled entirely by people who already refused you politely."
Rohan met her gaze.
"Yes."
Jorren finally spoke.
"That is a bad plan."
Rohan nodded.
"It is not a plan yet. It is a direction where a plan might exist."
Jorren considered that.
"That is less bad."
Iri looked at him incredulously.
He added, "Still bad."
Elder Sava folded her hands.
"There is another consideration. If Rohan disappears during Tradefall, the merchants may question us regardless of proof. A disappearance itself could draw suspicion."
Rohan had thought of that.
It was the part that kept twisting inside him.
"If I attempted anything," he said slowly, "it would have to happen after my petition was visibly obstructed, after I remained publicly present for several more days, and ideally under circumstances where the merchants might believe I gave up, left the flats, or returned to Veyrhold."
Bryan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"A false return record."
Iri snapped, "No."
Rohan shook his head. "Not falsified documents. I mean actually being seen returning with a Veyrhold group, then leaving separately later without using their cargo lanes."
Maerin looked at him for a long moment.
"That would require movement through the ash between the return route and merchant perimeter at night."
Liora’s face paled slightly.
"The flats at night during Tradefall are patrolled by merchant drones."
"Drones?" Rohan asked.
"Small flying watchers," Tavin said. "They hate ash wind but can see heat well."
Rohan’s mind moved quickly.
Heat.
Ash.
Molten Assimilation.
Dead ash smothering pulse.
Stormling lessons.
Iri saw his face.
"No."
"I did not say anything."
"You looked like your arm was about to do something foolish."
"That is unfairly specific."
"Because I know you."
The room held a terrible mixture of fear and calculation.
Rohan realised then that this was no longer just his escape fantasy. The people in this room were thinking with him, against their better judgment, because they cared, because they hated the merchants, because hope had teeth and they could not stop touching the edge.
That made him feel both grateful and guilty.
"I do not want anyone here implicated," he said. "If this becomes too dangerous for Veyrhold, I will stop."
Liora’s voice trembled. "Will you?"
He looked at her.
She did not look angry. She looked afraid to believe him.
"I will try," he said.
"That is not the promise I wanted."
"I know. But I cannot promise I will choose staying here for two more years over every risk. I can promise I will not treat Veyrhold as disposable. I can promise I will not use you as cover. I can promise I will not let desperation make me forget who helped me survive this place."
Liora looked away, eyes bright.
Maerin’s voice was quiet.
"Then we continue watching. No action before the eighth-day medical assessment. No direct assistance that can be traced to Veyrhold. No use of settlement cargo. No one outside this room hears this discussion."
Elder Sava looked older than she had at the start of the meeting.
"This conversation never occurred."
Iri closed her eyes.
"I hate this."
Bryan replied softly, "So do I."
Rohan looked around the room.
Every face carried some version of fear.
For him. For Veyrhold. For what hope might demand.