“You would be changing that system,” she says.
“No,” I reply, my voice steady now. “I’d be participating in it.”
The silence that follows is different.
Not uncertain.
Resolved.
“You’re refusing,” the first voice says.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I am.”
“You understand what you’re walking away from,” he says.
I glance at Hrask.
Then back at them.
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
“And what exactly are you choosing instead?” the woman asks.
I consider that for half a second.
Then answer honestly.
“Something real,” I say.
The room doesn’t know what to do with that.
And for once?—
Neither do they.
But I do.
And that’s enough.
CHAPTER 40
HRASK
The resignation terminal smells like ozone and old decisions.
The room is smaller than I expected for something that’s supposed to end a career, tucked into a quiet wing of the station where the traffic thins out and the voices don’t carry as far. The lighting is softer here, less clinical than the command chambers, but it doesn’t make the moment feel any less sharp. The console hums low in front of me, the interface already open, my name sitting at the top of the display like it still means something.
“Final confirmation required,” the system prompts.
“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath, staring at it.
My hand hovers over the panel, not because I’m unsure, but because I can feel the weight of everything behind it. Years of orders, missions, lines drawn and held whether they made sense or not, all of it condensed into a single decision that doesn’t come with a way back.
“You gonna keep staring at it,” a voice says from behind me, “or are you actually gonna do it?”
I glance over my shoulder.
Jolie leans against the doorway, arms crossed, her posture relaxed in a way that isn’t careless, just controlled, like she’s already made peace with everything I’m still standing here thinking about.
