The neon glow of the transporter hub painted their faces in shifting hues of blue and amber, but inside their secluded booth, the atmosphere was grim. The Chancellor’s words hung in the air, a gilded invitation to a public execution. Roewi stared at the roster, his name sitting beside Ereun and Kaira’s like a blasphemy. Myra’s theory echoed in his mind, a trap, a culling, an arms race. She was right. This was a box canyon, and the System Council was herding him into it.
“We run,” Myra said, her voice firm, final. “We disappear into the Rust Markets, the unincorporated zones. We can hide there. Re-group.”
[Probability of successful long-term evasion against a mobilized global system: 4.2%. The Council’s offer, while a trap, is also the only vector for significant power acquisition. To ref
