Elias left his apartment with one bag, one damaged watch, and three messages he did not want to write.
The first went to his mother. He kept it short enough to avoid panic and vague enough to be useless if anyone else read it. Training intake for a government program. Gone for a while. Please check the apartment if the landlord complains. I am safe enough.
The lie sat badly in his hand.
The second message went to his boss, who replied before Elias reached the corner.
Do not come back dead. Also you still owe me for the salmon.
That one helped.
The third went to the landlord with rent paid ahead and a request to repair the cabinet door. Elias did not mention the bullet hole. Some problems deserved to arrive as surprises.
Dot poked her head out through the front of his jacket, saw the street, and ducked halfway back in.
"You are saying goodbye to everything without telling anyone the real reason."
"That is how adults make bad decisions look organized."
The candidate pickup point was two streets over, in front of an old transit shelter that had been repainted with military slogans. Fourteen people waited there with bags at their feet. Most were younger than Elias. Several had fresh buzz cuts. Two tried to look bored and failed because nervous people checked the road too often.
A large man broke away from the group when Elias approached. He was built like someone who had grown up carrying heavy things because nobody asked whether he wanted to. His jacket strained across the shoulders, and a scar cut through one eyebrow.
"Did you get lost on the way here, old man?" the man asked.
Elias looked around as if checking for someone else. "I am twenty eight, so I will accept old only if you are twelve."
The man laughed once, surprised into it. "Twenty three, actually, and the name is Marcus Devlin."
"Elias Kael, temporary cargo with instructions."
They shook hands. Marcus tested his grip. Elias gave him enough back to be polite and not enough to make it a competition.
Marcus nodded toward the bag. "You do not look like the volunteer type."
"I was told that by professionals years ago."
"Then why get on the bus?"
Elias glanced at Dot, who was invisible and still looked offended on his behalf.
"Long story for another road, because this one already has enough problems," Elias said. "What put you on this bus instead?"
Marcus looked toward the military road. "My sister has two kids and a mortgage she cannot carry alone. If another alien attack comes, benefits and training start sounding less like propaganda."
That was a better answer than Elias expected.
Before he could respond, an armored bus turned onto the block and stopped hard enough to make the waiting candidates straighten. A PCA transport officer stepped out with a roster tablet. He had the square posture of someone who liked rules because rules gave him permission to be unpleasant.
Names were called. Bags were checked. People boarded in pairs.
The officer stopped when Elias handed over Geras's card.
"My roster is already full today," the officer said. "Explain why you are holding a priority pass before I decide it is forged."
"Geras Vorn told me to be here."
That name changed the officer's face by a fraction.
He scanned the card twice. The second scan made the tablet chirp green.
"You board after everyone else clears inspection," the officer said. "When we reach Base Alpha, you stay seated until someone comes for you. You are not special while my vehicle is moving. You are carrying a problem, so act like cargo with instructions."
"Cargo understands the vehicle rules and will sit still."
The officer gave him a hard look.
Elias climbed aboard and took an empty seat near the rear. Marcus sat two rows ahead and twisted around.
"Did he really call you cargo?"
"Promotion from civilian problem, apparently, so I will take it."
The bus pulled away from the curb. City blocks slid past, bright with recruitment boards. One billboard showed Elara in armor beneath the words United Under One Kind. Another showed alien ships over a burning skyline, clean enough to frighten children without showing bodies.
Elias closed his eyes before the ads could start making sense.
Dot settled into his collar. "You humans put a lot of effort into making fear look heroic."
"That is because fear sells better with uniforms."
The ride lasted almost two hours before the road emptied. The city thinned into service tunnels and restricted lanes cut between flood walls. Candidates stopped talking after the first security gate. Even Marcus leaned back and watched the dark concrete pass.
Elias drifted into a shallow sleep.
The bus braked hard.
His shoulder hit the window frame. Bags slid. Someone cursed from the front. The driver fought the wheel until the bus stopped at an angle across the lane.
Elias looked forward.
A man stood in the middle of the restricted road under the white wash of the headlights.
He wore a torn jacket and no fear. Above his shoulder floated a dark, hunched shape that only Elias and Dot seemed to notice. It was larger than Dot, with heavy limbs tucked close to its body and a head angled toward the bus like it was listening to every heartbeat inside.
Dot's voice went thin.
"That is another Ikona above him."
The transport officer stood from the front seat and checked his sidearm.
"Nobody leaves this vehicle unless I order it," he said. "Driver, open the door after I clear the step."
Marcus turned halfway toward Elias.
"You know anything useful about this?"
Elias watched the man in the road smile at the bus.
"I really wish I did not."