When things begin to run smoothly, it is rarely a good sign.
The supply route that had been quietly opened was never given a formal name in any document, yet it was undeniably functioning.Deliveries arrived on time. Bottlenecks eased. Complaints diminished.
And whenever things begin to work too well, someone notices.
The first to approach Nathan was not an officer.
It was a man who looked entirely unremarkable—a clerk responsible for recording supply vouchers.
During a routine handover, he casually remarked, "If certain materials were routed through your line, efficiency would improve."
The suggestion sounded reasonable.
So reasonable it was almost flawless.
Nathan didn't respond immediately.
He asked only one question. "Which materials?"
The clerk named three items.
Two were genuinely scarce.The third was not.
It was something non-urgent, but notoriously easy to manipulate on paper.
Nathan understood at once.
This was a probe.
He neither refused nor agreed.
"Submit a formal request," he said. "Follow procedure."
The clerk blinked. "That would take much longer."
"Then it isn't urgent," Nathan replied.
There was no edge to his voice.
Yet the door closed firmly.
A few days later, a different test appeared.
A senior officer, speaking in an informal setting, mentioned lightly, "If your route could also accommodate our side, it would save us a great deal of trouble."
This time, the intent was clearer.
Nathan still didn't give a direct answer.
"What are you short of?" he asked.
The officer listed several items.
All of them legitimate.
Nathan nodded. "I can help confirm priority."
"But I can't guarantee the outcome."
It wasn't evasion.
It was returning the decision to the system.
The real pressure came with the third attempt.
This time, it was explicit.
A batch of supplies was requested for "temporary redirection." The justification was vague. The tone, firm.
Nathan read the document and immediately grasped the problem.
If he approved it, the route would be defined as something that could be privately accessed.If he refused, the requester would likely bypass him and apply pressure from above.
A classic trap.
Nathan didn't handle it alone.
Instead, he did something that seemed unnecessary.
He compiled a minimalist summary of recent supply movements and submitted it alongside the request.
Not an accusation.
A juxtaposition.
The summary contained no commentary—only three facts:
The original intended use of the supplies.The units with the most urgent need.The delay that would result if the allocation were changed.
He never said no.
He let the consequences speak.
The response came quickly.
The request was "temporarily deferred."
No explanation was issued.
But the person who had made the request never approached Nathan again.
It wasn't a victory.
It was safe passage.
Elias Moore asked him privately, "Doesn't this make enemies?"
Nathan considered it.
"Yes," he said.
"Then why do it?"
"Because once a route starts running on favors," Nathan replied, "it stops being a route."
Meanwhile, the unit expanded slightly.
Not due to merit.
Simply because the workload had grown.
Greene approved an increase to eighteen personnel.
The number was deliberate.
Enough for rotation.Not enough to draw attention.
Nathan didn't select everyone himself.
He chose only three.
The rest were assigned by the system.
This, too, was intentional.
A fully private unit at this stage would be far more dangerous.
Training adjusted accordingly.
New arrivals were placed in observation roles.
They didn't join core operations.They recorded, followed, and watched.
This was rare in the army.
But it worked.
Those who belonged adapted on their own.Those who didn't requested reassignment after a few missions.
No conflict.No elimination.
Everything unfolded naturally.
That night, Nathan reviewed his notes again.
The "information network" was no longer a collection of scattered words.
It had begun to form structure.
Where shortages were constant.Where bottlenecks formed.Who had real authority.Who only wanted a free ride.
None of this was written into regulations.
Yet it was more real than any rulebook.
A distant bugle sounded—another unit moving in the night.
The war continued.
And Nathan understood something with growing clarity:
He could no longer remain a clean figure.
He would have to learn how to stand beside dirty water—without letting it stain his hands.
That balance was far harder.