All us Hegemony pilots are woken up in the dead of night by guards armored in black and dark purple, a uniform I’ve never seen before, and ordered to dress quickly. The hallway is soon filled with pilots and soldiers and the cacophonous sound of footsteps. Not a single question or word of explanation. We are driven like livestock to the Council’s proud, yawning hangar, still gleaming with lights at three in the morning, where pilots on duty kneel on the concrete, heads hanging in fear or submission, I can’t tell. Their crimson uniform jackets have been discarded into a disrespectful heap, and standing as the idol they bow toward is a man I vaguely recognize to be Demeter’s governor. I don’t recall his name.

 

“Form a line,” he orders us. Those of us who don’t take to our knees immediately upon finding a spot in line are forced to the ground. The back of my leg finds out very quickly that these boots are armored as heavily as the rest of the soldiers.

 

“You are now employed by the New Earth Coalition,” he announces. Employed to me seems like a very weak word for what’s going on here. “I am Governor Hieronymus Kell, your new leader. The Hegemony council has so graciously retired to make way for a more effective government, so you newcomers can take off those outdated uniforms of yours.” Many who’d been brutally woken had taken the order to dress as demanding full uniform. They hurriedly shrug off their outer jackets and toss them far away, as if on fire. I’m in little more than pajamas and grateful for it.

 

“Pilots are a valuable resource, especially in this time when it seems every ship in the galaxy is owned by Bishop. The talent and training in this group would be hard to completely replace, but don’t fool yourselves into assuming you as individuals are irreplaceable. A lot of trust is put in the hands of the one in control of the ship, so if I doubt your loyalties for one second, you will never see a cockpit again. Am I understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” we agree in unison. He steps up to one of the pilots who’d been on duty, his knee now eye-level with her quaking, doe-eyed stare.

 

“Iris Jakoa, yes?”

 

“Yes, sir,” she breathes.

 

“From the Regenus region of Persephone. Recently engaged to Urias Goshun. You’re very close to your mother and older sister. If you value these things, you will serve me well.”

 

“Of course, Governor.” Her head sags lower the second he walks away, stopping again halfway down the line.

 

“Fabian Ellington. You have a newborn at home named after your grandfather.”

 

“I understand, Governor. I will serve the Coalition to the best of my ability.”

 

He continues to walk down the line, and I avert my eyes to the floor in front of me. The rhythm of his walk is disrupted, and in my field of vision, the boots stop, the toes pointed toward me. My heart pounds.

 

“Arven Lillenas. Son of the Overseer of Krider. Born of Halcyon. Your father is a loud voice against supervision from the Core, or so I hear.” He bends down to look me in the eye, and I meet it with a challenge, knowing the threat of my life and my family is coming next. “If I find a single Union bone in your body, I will crush it. There’s no room in my employ for divided loyalties.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“And you’d best stop looking at me like that, boy.”

 

I lower my head, a false act of submission. The wrath in me has only grown. I had never been tempted to kill before, not until the governor’s face came so close to my own. I only remain still because I’ll be no good to anyone as a corpse.

 

Pleased with his threats, he resumes his spot among the guards. Their helmets have tinted visors, they all carry guns - I think I’ve joined a military state.

 

“You will receive new uniforms and new schedules, but your duties are much the same. This doesn’t have to be anything more to you than a job. Are we all clear, pilots?”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

We are dismissed from the hangar with no escort and return to our rooms in whispering clumps.

 

“I guess changing over governments can be dangerous, there’s always people who fight back against stuff like that…”

 

“...necessary precaution?”

 

I don’t want the company of my coworkers. I know exactly what’s going on. I shut my door calmly and kick some dirty clothes across the room. “They’ve all retired” my butt. If President Nazari had chosen to give up his power, he’d have notified his personnel, maybe even thanked us for our service.

 

My dad must not have been the only one fed up with the Council’s style of ruling, since Kell has decided that he can do better, but he sure won’t be pleased to hear that every Council member has been murdered overnight. It’s been well over a year since I got my job with the Hegemony and dad offered for me to spy. He was very disappointed when I left Halcyon, and even more so after I never sent any information back, but there was nothing to report. As much as dad disliked the Hegemony, they weren’t doing anything sketchy. They didn’t threaten their employees with guns and hostages. Luckily for him, I have been forced into having a political opinion. It’s hard not to, when the back of my knee still throbs from the strike of a steel-toed shoe. And I still remember the protocols. I wait two days. Kell’s people will be too busy establishing a government to monitor one pilot. Even then, there’s nothing unusual about my text.

 

Hey, dad, it’s been a while. How are things at home?