Brakka Mercy-Mane

Brakka Mercy-Mane enters White Corridor Parley Station as Republic relief envoy, carrying the practical burden of the Ward-Snow talks. The first read is specific: antiseptic steam, frost on visor rims, mane wraps sealed under medical hoods, and relief pilots arguing in low voices beside red quarantine lamps. Brakka Mercy-Mane watches who gets acknowledged, who gets interrupted, and which copy of the draft people reach for.

Medical blockade markers and black-market runners surround Ward-Snow. Republic officials, relief crews, and local authority need corridor terms before sickness and smuggling feed each other. Brakka Mercy-Mane understands that transporting delegates was the easy bit. The actual job is consent under pressure, with a record sturdy enough to survive the crew's departure and the next local election, court, House vote, caste review, provincial appeal, relief emergency, or century-long archive check.

Under pressure, Brakka Mercy-Mane argues from karthunai practice rather than generic spacer etiquette. The quarantine has a real medical basis and a corrupt exemption market. Lifting it outright is reckless; sealing it harder kills patients. The work is corridor law, inspection, and monitored relief. Brakka Mercy-Mane's position is not automatically right, but it is rooted in consequences somebody here will have to live with. Negotiate a timed medical corridor, neutral screening, runner amnesty for declared patients, and enforceable triggers for tightening or lifting the blockade.