Canis: Unrest Amid a Sea of Stars

~ Dylan Morgan, Year 10,023 After Arrival

Dylan Morgan watched on as the longest war humanity had ever fought reached a close. Ever since the inception of the People’s Republic of Canis, the human settlers and indigenous Eindruji race were bitter enemies. Humans claimed their rivals were vicious savages who could not live in peace. The garbling words of the Eindruji tongue described humanity as a plague destroying their small corner of the universe.

Neither side was innocent, and no one cared how or why the fighting started. After thousands of years of violent exchanges, the carnage’s fuel for many was hate and nothing else.

A wide range of emotions churned in his gut as he gazed toward the Eindruji homeworld from in the rec-room of the PRCSS Vernalis. After leaving the Legion to join the Astrocorps and fighting the final battles in space, he simply watched from the safety of a military warship as the planet slowly succumbed to the ravages of Antigenesis, like hundreds more that preceded it.

Insidiously, the viral agent so aptly named would be custom-tailored by human scientists to target all organic lifeforms on a planet. Once deployed, it spread through every possible means of transmission and attack and degenerate all flora and fauna present until the virus reduced the world to a bare husk ripe with the primordial soup that life originated. Afterward, the virus would destroy itself to prevent immunization or reverse engineering.

As if turning back time, whole planets became molding clay ripe for terraforming. Usually, they were crafted into replicas of Earth to support human colonization or farming. A parting gift left for human explorers by forefathers who saw them off on their long journey had been turned into an exceptionally devastating weapon, giving them power enough to expand through the galaxy and become the dominant order.

It was the only power the Eindruji could not surpass by sheer might. The most violent and unspeakable acts Dylan had ever seen wrought were by elite warriors known as Bloodseekers. They preyed upon the innocent as punishment for the PRC’s Legionnaires and the Astrocorps that continued to challenge them.

No one quite understood the extent of the damage this long war had taken on him. However it still did not make him happy to watch the green of their world slowly melt away into a dull taupe as the preponderance of the Eindruji population died with it. Those fortunate enough not to be planetside issued a declaration of surrender to spare themselves from inevitable extinction.

Every news feed in the Republic’s inhabited systems, from Norokari to Gaia to the Plebeius, declared that humans had ushered eternal peace in Canis. PR News played on a holoscreen ten feet from where Dylan stood. Fellow soldiers watched and cheered while he stood alone, watching the genocide they celebrated unfold. The anchors were beside themselves with joy, calling for all to celebrate.

On their seat was the Republican-General Jerome Keller, who was second only to Executor Lawrence Kayn in command of both branches of the PRC’s military. Despite the smile on his face, his eyes were weary, and his pupils dilated by excessive stim use, like any soldier fortunate enough to survive longer than twenty years in the Legion.

“Will there truly be peace?” he muttered with skepticism.

Despite the media narrative, something nagged that this era of calm would be short-lived, if ever allowed to exist. More likely, resources would turn inward and be used to eliminate Nonconformist groups operating out of the Norokari and Gaia sectors, and the Fringe Realms. Fighting was always the ultimate end of opposing views. Victory never created lasting peace because men still found other reasons to fight.

Dylan experienced enough violence for a lifetime in his service years.

He used to love the military life. Following in his father’s footsteps to serve the Republic filled him with pride. As a Legionnaire, he went to worlds across the galaxy and forged bonds with many good people. Flying made him feel alive as nothing else could, and transferring to the Astrocorps was what he needed at the time.

Waging other people’s wars for other people’s reasons had since become hollow and meaningless. He’d given everything in harrowing battles that took many of those friends and left him haunted in ways no one outside the service could fully understand.

There was nothing to fight for anymore, and it was time for a new chapter of his life to begin.

As he turned to leave, Dylan bumped into another soldier. By no means was he small. Indeed, he was in top form at five feet and eleven inches and carrying one hundred sixty pounds of lean muscle. Legionnaire-Knight Miles Mercer, the giant slab of meat that was the ship’s first officer, stood six inches taller and one hundred pounds heavier.

Dylan’s appearance fell entirely within the dress code while Mercer shaved his head completely bald to differentiate himself from his comrades. He had also made unauthorized alterations to his uniform, knowing that he was too good at his job for his superiors to punish the defiance.

“Watch where you’re going, Morgan,” Mercer chided him. Dylan offered no resistance, only a salute to his superior officer. “My apologies, sir; it won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” Mercer said sternly, shoving Dylan out of his way and looking out the window, where he grinned with pride. “Look at that!” he said to everyone in the room, and they all turned to gaze at him. “Ten thousand years! Ten whole goddamn millenniums! That is how long we’ve been bleeding and sweating to conquer those savage fucks! It was us; this ship and its crew, who are the ones who got to finish what our forefathers started!

“I do not mean to sell any of us short, but it is a simple fact that a single Eindruji is worth two dozen humans on the battlefield in terms of speed and strength. They surpass us in all physical means. Their bodies are covered by bone stronger than any armor we make. No human has ever defeated an Eindruji one on one. Believe me, I’ve got the scars from trying, and close only counts in horseshoes. Together, however, we the elite of the elite, just wiped out their homeworld. This battle and its spoils are ours!” he cheered, and everyone except Dylan followed.

“Don’t you feel proud, soldier?” Mercer asked Dylan, shooting him a cross look. Many of their companions bore the same look or one of confusion. Dylan understood. Just because he had become disillusioned, that did not mean that they weren’t allowed to rejoice in their hard-earned victory. Logic dictated that they should respect his opinion as he respected theirs, but nothing ever worked that way.

“I’m just tired, sir,” Dylan suggested, looking up at Mercer’s swarthy complexion. “We’ve fought a long campaign. I’ve lost a lot of friends and more. All I want to celebrate with is a cold beer watching the Knyghts take the Plebeius Cup.”

Mercer snorted into a smirk. “Fair enough, I appreciate that. Maybe I’ll buy you that drink. I can be a pretty fun guy off the clock when my hair is down. Hang around me, and I’ll show you how to live excellently.” Like the Legionnaire-Knight, everyone else was satisfied by Dylan’s excuse and went back to their business.

“Looking forward to it, sir,” Dylan saluted.

Like so many times before with Canis’ other species, a treaty and the integration of their civilization into the People’s Republic would follow the Eindruji’s surrender. Because they were the last free species, the human race had now become the undisputed rulers of the galaxy. The Republic claimed that everyone was equal and there was no discrimination against assimilated species, but that was easily disproven. It’s just that they were not allowed to say it.

Whispers rushed through the Vernalis that there was no longer a need for the military to be as broad and expensive as it had become. According to rumor, the PRC would cut Legion’s standing army in half, and the Astrocorps Navy would transition into a peacekeeping force patrolling the Sectors and fight the Nonconformists. Their funding would be re-allocated.

As a result, many believing the Republic’s claim of everlasting peace would move on from the military to civilian life, like Dylan planned. Miles Mercer was a man born for battle and would never leave the service. Chances were that this would be the last time the two ever saw each other, and they both knew it.

The likelihood of that drink he promised was nonexistent.

“Dismissed.”

With a nod, Dylan left the room. Sooner hopefully than later, he would be out of the Astrocorps once and for all. Dylan passed by the ship’s temple and heard the chaplain’s hard booming voice while venturing toward his quarters. Some time had passed since he sat in on a sermon, and he stopped to listen as the holy man spoke to the weary and crestfallen. Maybe deep-down, Dylan needed to hear the words himself.

“Bravery and valor never go unseen,” preached the chaplain. “Divinity watches and rewards merit with Paradise. No greater service is there for you to perform for God than uniting Canis under the People’s Republic. Stand proud. We are missionaries who come to cleanse the wicked of their sinful ways. You are Executor Kayn’s divine crusaders. You must not fear death in battle, for you will know splendor in eternity. Fear the cowardice that sends you in retreat. If a thousand good men died to see a single wicked soul defeated, the end justified the means.”

Even the sermon rang hollow. Dylan was always a man of faith, but his ideology ran counter to the PRC’s canon of serving God through state service.

“What does God get out of all this?” Dylan wanted to ask the Chaplain. “Adulation can’t be enough.” But he didn’t, as speaking against the canon was sedition and punishable.

Dylan checked his Netcomm for any messages. None were from his father, Damian. Messages from Callum had piled up in his inbox. The two weren’t close, but Dylan decided he would take some time to visit his older brother and see his newborn nephew.

Despite everything that happened, he hoped a bright future lay ahead.

~ Darien Bauer

Of all the worlds in the galaxy, none were worse than Farhaven. The swamp world Galuric in the Plebeius IV sector was better, even though their waters are polluted by the dung of Rocans who dwelled in the sky-cities above. The arid, rocky surface of Nolar in the Norokari sector was preferable, even though it was uninhabitable to all but the Mantireans who could only survive underground. The Eindruji homeworld was more hospitable than the population of Farhaven, and they killed humans on sight.

At least, that’s what Darien Bauer had to say about the colony on which he was born. He reiterated that through the butt of a cigarette while looking down grimly at his hand of cards. “I got shit,” he said in a graveled tone, then blew out a plume of smoke. “I fold.”

Poker was as old as humankind itself. Newer games became popular over the years, but Bauer and his friends enjoyed no other as much as this. They played uninterruptedly in the quiet corner of a tavern in Rune Town, named for a one-time runium rush after excavators discovered a deposit in the caverns below the village.

“Sometimes I believe your coffers are as dry as the mines,” laughed Lincoln; one of the few friends Bauer had in the galaxy and the only person he could trust his back to in a Farhaven tavern.

Farhaven was once famous throughout Canis for its mines. Vast amounts of runium supplied energy to half the starships and planets in the galaxy. A single crumb was worth millions of points, and mass hysteria came whenever someone claimed to have discovered an untapped deposit.

“Nah, just smart enough t’know when I can’t beat y’at cards,” he countered. “Unlike Kinney here. We bled him dryer than the wells.”

“We ought to get out of this dump,” Kinney suggested, gesturing over to the holoscreen above the bar. “Gonna be a lot of horrors moving in now that their planets have been sludged.”

“Just when I was startin’ t’like this place,” Bauer scoffed. Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Buncha asshole bat-bugs comin’ in and takin’ over the place. I betcha anythin’, them Triumvirate cucks’re gonna let ’em vent their frustrations here ’cus they don’t give a shit ’bout us. Gotta give ‘em somethin’ t’make ’em feel like parta the community, y’know?”

“I hear Eindruji punish people who offend them by hurting people they love,” Kinney added. “They think it leaves deeper scars.”

“Leaving is easier said than done,” Lincoln commented. “The poorest of the poor live in the Norokari VI cluster because they don’t get enough points to pay the pollution taxes anywhere else. Unless you go to the Fringes, which we all know will become the new war front.”

“Damn fuckin’ shame that y’can be too poor t’breathe somewhere. Still, we’re gonna be takin’ more off-world jobs. Less time we spend around those savage fucks the longer we go without gettin’ our throats torn out and them wearin’ our entrails. Figure it out, Linc; you’re the smartest son’bitch I know, next t’myself.”

Lincoln chuckled as he threw down a full house and won Kinney’s shirt. “I could set up a few dummy identities and funnel extra points from the state to cover the taxes. How do you like the idea of being a family man? They don’t get as suspicious when someone claims to have a child on a slum world it’s harder to keep track of.”

“Nobody who knows me would believe that shit,” Bauer laughed into a drink of whiskey and then grabbed a handful of nuts, “Good we don’t gotta fool them. Gonna need more than th’three of us too, and we ain’t got time or pussy t’breed ’em.”

“I see a lot of people in here willing to get their hands dirty,” Lincoln commented as Bauer crunched one nut after another, mouth agape.

Washing his food down with another drink, Bauer stood up and grabbed his shotgun by the strap, hoisting it over his shoulder. He scanned the crowd, combing through the riffraff for worthy recruits, and decided on a group that didn’t look like total scum.

It was a small gang that ran protection on Ninth Street. They had hard eyes and scarred bodies, but they lacked the visible perversion and cruelty common in Farhaven. By no means did Bauer consider himself to be a good man, but he had standards and liked to keep close to people who shared them.

Decidedly, he marched over to them. “W’sup?” he addressed the crowd. And they looked at him like he had crashed a funeral.

“I know who you are: Darien Bauer,” said one of them. “What the hell do you want?”

“And you’re Carrel MacBride. Need people t’do a job. Maybe more,” he answered. “You guys’ll do. C’mon.”

MacBride laughed at him. “How much?”

“Depends on what jobs we get.”

“You’re offering work you don’t have yet?” the volume of MacBride’s laughter heightened obnoxiously. “This doesn’t sound like good business. My friends and I will have to decline. Unless that is, you can offer something tangible.”

Bauer grumbled. “Look fellas, up at that screen. You know well as I do things’re gonna get fucked fast. We need t’get outta this shithole and t’do that we’re gonna need more points than the allowance can afford. We can find work, but me and m’boys can’t do shit alone. If you’re sulkin’ in this bar y’can’t have much going on. It’ll help us all if we pull our shit together. Y’get me?”

MacBride paused. “Fair point for a mush-mouthed rube.”

Bauer quickly snatched MacBride by the collar of his shirt and yanked him close. “The fuck you call me?!”

“Rube,” MacBride answered. “A dumb yokel. Let go of me now and we might agree to team up with you.”

“Yeh?”

“On conditions,” MacBride added, “I’m in charge.”

“Fuck that,” Bauer threw him back into his chair. “M’ship, m’jobs, m’lead.”

“You’re very brazen for someone who needs our assistance. Did nobody tell you that beggars can’t be choosers?” MacBride asked.

“I can find other people,” Bauer countered. “You just looked like y’aren’t a complete piece’o’shit so I asked you first.”

MacBride stared dubiously at Bauer. “You want to lead? Prove yourself to be worth leading.”

“Fuck d’you expect me t’do that?”

“With your fists,” MacBride replied. “You want to patch us over to your label. You are right that we can help each other, and that you could find other people. Regardless of whoever takes the lead, we would be at each other’s throats constantly and we should settle it now. Whoever loses submits to the winner.”

“What’s stoppin’ ya from backin’ out if y’lose?”

“You didn’t ask me because you thought I was dishonest,” MacBride reminded him. “I could walk away now, but I’m interested and I’m a man of my word. If you win, you lead. But I want the same promise if I win. Do you agree?”

Bauer nodded. He could never back down from a challenge, mostly if it was against his character. If he refused, he would look weak not only to them but to his people and anyone they attempted to recruit in the future. The principle of it allowed no other course.

“Out back,” Bauer decided. MacBride agreed. Everyone stood from their seats and left the establishment. Other patrons who were uninvolved saw an opportunity for live entertainment. Bauer didn’t stop them, neither did MacBride.

Outside, everyone circled Bauer and MacBride. Thirsty for blood, they cried out for them to begin fighting. “No guns,” MacBride said, gesturing to Bauer’s shotgun, which he immediately threw down. Returning the courtesy, MacBride threw down his holsters, which carried five pistols.

“Whaddya need so many guns for?”

“Each is best for different things,” was MacBride’s answer with a shrug.

“Nothin’ below the belt. Nothin’ lethal. And nothin’ disgusting,” were Bauer’s rules.

“Agreed.”

When they were ready, the fight began. MacBride moved in quickly, looking to end the scrap as soon as it began. Bauer expected MacBride to strike his face and guarded accordingly, but it was a feint. MacBride jabbed his core, then aimed for Bauer’s mouth as he reeled from the blow. Bauer recovered quickly enough to catch MacBride by the wrist and return a backhanded punch.

MacBride kicked Bauer’s leg out from under him. Bauer rolled away to dodge a kick to the gut and grabbed MacBride’s pant leg, pulling him down to give himself a minute to rise. As MacBride rose, Bauer delivered a sharp punch to his nose, which bled.

“You’re better than I thought,” MacBride panted. “But not as good as you think!”

The adversaries traded more blows. MacBride spirited forward and ducked under Bauer’s hook and sunk his fist into Bauer’s center. He gasped as the air left his lungs. It took all of Bauer’s strength not to vomit his drinks and nuts. Before MacBride could pull away, Bauer grabbed his wrist and pulled him close. Bauer wrapped the arm around his shoulder and hoisted MacBride into the air before slamming him into the ground and backing off. “Get back up,” Bauer told him.

MacBride was somehow able to climb back onto his feet and rush in for another assault. He was at his limit, Bauer estimated. Bauer blocked MacBride’s next punch and delivered a final hook to his jaw. Bauer felt his knuckles crack, and he sent MacBride crashing back to the ground.

“I yield,” MacBride groaned before he suffered more significant damage.

“Good,” Bauer said as he reached out to Kinney for a salve to apply to his knuckles. Looking at MacBride’s friends, he asked, “You gonna follow?”

They looked and mumbled among themselves as they helped MacBride up and began tending to him. “We will,” one said.

Bauer was satisfied with that. “Get him fixed up. We need t’be in space by tomorrow. And I dunno what y’called yourselves before, but now y’have our name: you’re Hellrazyrs.”

~ Ewan Prescott

“Is this real?” Ewan asked in his husky voice, not because he didn’t trust Kurtis, but because the information that his second in command laid before him was unlike anything he had ever seen. “It’s been thousands of years since humans migrated to Canis. Why, after so long, would another species pass through the Gate?”

Kurtis looked just as stunned and didn’t quite know what to say. “My teams would have asked, but the craft they encountered wasn’t in the mood for conversation.”

Ewan sighed. This situation was more than he felt was his responsibility. As the Director of Resource Management, Ewan’s job was to oversee the distribution of food, medicine, and take action during economic irregularities. But he was also governor of the Semotus Nebula, where the Gate was; a token position. Semotus had very few occupied planets, and his most frequent duty was to be the man Kurtis’ patrol fleet reported everyday nothings to.

“I’ll send it up, but I honestly don’t expect the Triumvirate to believe it.”

“You’ll have to convince them somehow,” Kurtis pressed. “Whatever they are, these aliens have the firepower capable of wiping out three Galleon cruisers with ease. If this is the first of an invading fleet, we can’t afford to be blindsided so soon after ending a war.”

“That is precisely why they won’t listen,” Ewan pointed out. “The PRC just promised everlasting peace. If just as soon as the fighting stops, we’re in another war that we can’t win with Antigenesis because the enemy homeworld is somewhere in a galaxy that we lost the charts for millennia ago.”

“What’s the alternative; watch and wait?” Kurtis asked.

“More than likely, that will be their choice,” Ewan answered. “Give me the room. I’ll get this over with.”

Kurtis obeyed and left Ewan’s office. Alone, Ewan strode to the communication array. Along the way, he saw his reflection in one of the many mirrors that decorated the building’s walls. The wrinkles on his skin grew more prominent every time he looked, and his hair was thinning.

The array was an empty square room covered head-to-toe with onyx tiles inlaid with technology that shimmered cerulean, not bright enough to light the room but to stand out and lead to a cerulean ring in the center. Ewan stepped into the corona and declared that he wished to speak with the High Tier via the emergency channel. He knew that the Triumvirate might not consider this worth the emergency channel, but it was the fastest way to get the message through.

Years of using this machine had damaged his eyes. He neglected to file for a corrective surgery because the mess of bureaucracy and paperwork was too long and painful for the bother. Someday soon, he would need glasses. In a vain attempt to stay it off, he closed his eyes while the machine worked. Opening his eyes, he found the room changed into a seamless display of the High Tier.

At the corners of a triangular table were three individuals who governed the People’s Republic of Canis. They all wore finely tailored suits, each with a sash draped over the shoulder, the color and emblem signifying their position.

Mastroman Pardesh was the Sanctor, the creator of laws, and the manager of finances. Over his shoulder was a blue sash with the emblem of a pen against paper. It represented the law.

Eriza Danson was Ludex, the judge who ruled on the validity of a law and administrated the courts. She wore a purple sash with a balanced scale set on two hands. It symbolized equality.

Lawrence Kayn was Executor, who enacted new laws through edict and controlled the military and police. His was a red sash bearing a sword emblem to signify action.

Together, they and their delegates were the bodies of the PRC state. But anyone who was anyone knew that Lawrence Kayn was the real power among them. As Executor, his vote on a matter had the power of two seats, allowing him to filibuster the other two, and any whose side he was on would win. No matter what, the Executor got his way.

“Director Prescott,” said Kayn. “What is the emergency?”

Without a reply, Ewan sent the report to their terminals. Better they read it themselves than he risk sounding crazy explaining it.

“This is preposterous,” Kayn said. Pardesh and Danson appeared ambivalent.

“We lost three cruisers verifying it. It is not preposterous,” Ewan insisted. “Whatever traveled into Canis, I can’t speak to their intentions. But in the interests of security, I compel you to act.”

Sanctor Pardesh pinched the bridge of his nose. “If this is true, how do you expect us to act? Against an unknown force from uncharted terrain, we have minimal options.”

“It is my opinion that the best solution would be to block the Gate to prevent any more ships from passing through. The distance between Origo and Canis is too vast for any ship to cross even with lux bursts.”

“What you’re suggesting is impossible,” Kayn declared. “The science required to close a wormhole is completely unexplored. It’s never been necessary and could take centuries of study and quadrillions of points.”

“Obstructing the Gate is a simpler avenue,” he argued. “I put forth the example of Ather IV. A runium core malfunction resulted in the conception of a star that consumed the entire planet. Its size is more than the span of the Gate’s opening.”

“Out of the question. You know how imperative it is that no one doubts the safety of our runium cores,” Kayn pointed out. “Officially, the loss of Ather IV is the fault of Eindruji experimentation; a failed attempt to create a runium core of their design. The same thing happening within reach of Lidowen would not escape notice and undermine that narrative.”

“You’re worried about saving face instead of saving lives?” Ewan shook his head. “You’ve been silent, Lady Ludex. What is your ruling?” he asked Eriza Danson, hoping that at least one would back him.

“I will choose to believe you, Director Prescott. You have never shown impropriety or malfeasance. However, we do not yet know the nature of this species; thus, we cannot speak to their intentions. Despite this skirmish, they could be peaceful and open to communication. If they emerge again, we should make that effort to communicate and understand before we pour more assets than we possess into slamming the door in their faces.”

Sometimes he did get tired of being right. As expected, they said no. He couldn’t know they were wrong in not understanding these aliens’ intentions, but at the same time, there was security at Canis’ border for a reason. For as long as humans lived in Canis, they watched for signs of anything else coming through the Gate. If those who remained in Origo were so noble, travel back to their home galaxy wouldn’t be forbidden to the Republic citizens.

“I understand,” Ewan gave up his futile pleas. “I’ll leave you to discuss your course of action.”

“One moment, Director Prescott,” Pardesh stopped Ewan from cutting off the line.

“Yes?”

Kayn’s face steeled. “We have to discuss your punishment.”

“For what?” Ewan asked. “I’ve done nothing wrong.

“Misusing the emergency channel,” was Kayn’s reply. “While I do not doubt that your opinion is that this matter was urgent, you’re not allowed to take this action based on your opinions. Regulations state that this channel is exclusively for catastrophic events. If a runium core overloaded and destroyed a planet, that would be a catastrophic event. If a tangible threat presented itself and acted to harm our interests, that would not be a catastrophic event but would be enough to justify bypassing standard procedures. This alien scouting party that may have felt threatened by us is not.”

Ewan cringed. “And what is my punishment?” Ewan wasn’t going to waste his breath contesting the charges.

“Based on laws established by the Triumvirate, the punishment for this action is death. In light of your exemplary service to the military and your outstanding performance as Director of Resource Management and Governor of the Semotus Nebula, we will exercise leniency,” Kayn said.

“You are hereby dismissed from your position and will return to life as a private citizen,” Danson elaborated. “You are still one year from collecting a pension. In light of that, you will receive a single benefit amounting to one million points in lieu of the yearly allowance boost. This sum will allow you to purchase a home and start a business if you cannot find sufficient employment.”

Ewan’s fist clenched so tight he could feel his knuckles turning white from the loss of blood. “May I go now?” he asked, curt. “I suddenly need to clean out my office.”

“We will send your belongings wherever you wish,” Pardesh answered. “You are ordered to vacate the premises immediately. If you do not, security will remove you, and your benefit is forfeit.”

Without another word, the channel closed, and Ewan wasted no time heading for the exit. “Fucking assholes,” he swore.

As he walked, Kurtis caught up with him to inquire but was the picture of shock when Ewan told him what had happened.

“I am so sorry,” he said to Ewan. “I didn’t know I’d be getting you fired.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ewan assured Kurtis. “My dismissal was from misusing the emergency channel because I wanted to get the matter out of my hands and not bother with the bureaucracy. I brought it on myself.”

Kurtis had been a long time subordinate and friend. The last thing Ewan wanted was for him to blame himself when it wasn’t his fault. “They’ll probably promote you to my position and give you a pay raise. I know you’ll do well.”

“No,” Kurtis shook his head. “Pardon my improper language, but this is a load of crap. They’re silencing you, and I will not stand for it. I’m handing in my resignation.”

Ewan appreciated loyalty more than he would admit. “You know they won’t give you a severance.”

“I don’t care. I have a friend at Maximpera Financial who can set me up with a job. I’ll be out of work for a week, maybe two.”

“Boyd Kurtis, a banker?” Ewan laughed. “That sounds strange.”

“No stranger than you as anything besides Director of Resource Management.”

“Better start on the paperwork,” Ewan said as he reached the exit and made no stops crossing through it.

Despite losing everything he’d spent his whole life building, Ewan felt unburdened. For the first time in his life, he was free to do whatever he pleased. Whatever passed through the gate may very well not be a threat; being a diplomat wasn’t his job. That’s what he told himself to feel better about the fact that he simply didn’t care anymore. It was over.