“I can’t put you into the army without syncing you,” the legislator said flatly. “You’ve squandered or abused your reader abilities in every way you could think of. No division would trust you without someone in charge of you. You’ve given everyone enough proof of what you do when you’re left to yourself.” She switched off the holofield, and the images sank back into gray mist. “Report to the duty officer in the Cavalry barracks once we’re done. I’ve told a ranker to escort you back to the base.”

She’d already made the arrangements. Tennal dropped his itching head back into his hands, finally recognizing there had never been any other outcome on the table. He’d burned through every chance he’d had.

It briefly flashed through his head that if he pushed himself out of his chair and ran right now, the security guard at the door probably wouldn’t be expecting it. He could sprint down the back streets to the transit lines, hop on one of the rush-hour shuttles. He still had people he could call in Sanura, people who might lend him money—and face-field masks were easy to find. He could get on a commercial ship off-planet …

The spinning wheels in his mind ran to a halt. It was a laughably bad plan. And even if it worked, even if he somehow managed to escape the Orshan sector, he would be cutting off everyone he’d ever known. He would never get back in touch with any old friends. He’d never see Zin.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. “Fuck this,” he said, but it was an admission of defeat. Part of him wanted to say, You’re going to regret doing this, but that was melodramatic, and more important, he didn’t think he could deliver on it.

“This wasn’t a choice I wanted to make,” the legislator said. There was something in her voice—a note that sounded harsh, but that Tennal hadn’t heard before, even when they’d argued viciously enough that he’d left. “But this can’t go on. Everything else aside, Zinyary is a bright girl and doesn’t deserve being at the mercy of your constant crises. When you disappeared she was a wreck for days.”

The small flicker inside Tennal that was still trying to make escape plans abruptly died. He stared at the fabric of his trousers over his knees and said, “All right.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you—”

“I said ‘all right,’” Tennal dropped his hands and lifted his head again. Everything was gray and dull, as if all his senses had been muffled. “Duty officer. Cavalry Division. Property of the military as of twenty-two hundred hours. I was listening.”