As Valcor reached the threshold of the prison transport, a deep, mechanical hiss filled the air. The hydraulic systems whirred as the boarding ramp extended fully, a metallic beast waiting to consume its test prisoner. The reinforced steel of the vessel's hull reflected the sterile glow of the docking bay lights, a symbol of the Federation's cold, unyielding justice.

  For the first time in years, Valcor hesitated.

  Not in fear. Not in regret.

  But in realization.

  This station, his station, would go on without him. The halls where his commands had once dictated the lives of thousands, the chambers where he had orchestrated alliances and betrayals. None of it mattered anymore. Ashen Prime had belonged to him, shaped by his will, yet now it stood untouched by his absence, its walls indifferent, its corridors unyielding.

  The power had simply shifted. It always did.

  His breath was steady, his expression unreadable, but deep within, he felt a flicker of something dangerous...understanding.

  For all his cunning, for all his careful maneuvering, he had been outpyed. Not because Krell was necessarily smarter or stronger, but because the Federation's game had rules that had been set long before Valcor had entered the board. He had thought himself above them, thought he could bend the system to his will as he had done with so many others.

  But Krell had done what Valcor never could, he became the system.

  Valcor clenched his jaw. The Federation had never cared about justice. The corruption that had run rampant under his rule had only become a problem when it no longer served their interests. His downfall was merely a calcuted maneuver, an orchestrated sacrifice to bring about the next phase of their control.

  His crime wasn't ruling through fear. His crime wasn't the bck-market dealings or the occupation of Kynara and unauthorized experimentation by Krenna's organization.

  His crime was failing to win.

  Failing to crush the coalition before they could expose his hand. Failing to firmly secure the psychic weapon trade before the Federation deemed it a liability. Failing to uphold his usefulness in the grander scheme of their ever-expanding dominion.

  And for that, he was disposable.

  His gaze hardened, his mind already moving past the present moment, past the weight of his shackles and the cold air of the docking bay.

  This wasn't the end.

  He lifted his head, staring forward into the dimly lit interior of the prison vessel. The future was uncertain, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty: power, true power, never disappeared. It simply waited for the right hand to cim it again.

  Just as he had once cwed his way up from nothing, just as he had bent the weak-willed and opportunistic to his will, there would come a time when the cycle would turn once more as long as he remains loyal to his faction.

  And if Krell thought this was the final chapter, he was mistaken.

  His voice was quiet, a whisper meant only for himself, yet it carried the weight of conviction, the promise of an unfinished game.

  "You've won today, Krell… but the game never ends in the Federation."

  With that, he stepped inside. The heavy bst doors smmed shut behind him with a final, echoing cng.

  A sound not of surrender. But of a game merely paused.

  And just like that, Renn Valcor was gone.

  From the observation deck overlooking the docking bay, Tallis Krell stood in silence, his hands csped loosely behind his back. Through the reinforced viewport, he watched as the docking cmps disengaged with a final, mechanical hiss, releasing the prison transport into the void.

  The ship's thrusters ignited, sending it drifting away from Ashen Prime, its sleek escort vessels moving into formation around it like silent sentinels.

  Valcor was gone.

  The governor-turned-prisoner was now en route to the Federation's high-security tribunal in the Central Sectors, where his fate would be sealed before a panel of judges who had likely already decided his guilt. It was a formality, a public dispy of justice meant to pacify the masses and legitimize the transition of power. His trial would not be a question of innocence, only a matter of sentencing.

  Krell exhaled slowly, his breath steady as his gaze followed the ship's trajectory, watching as the vessel shrank to a distant speck against the endless backdrop of stars.

  Behind him, Admiral Doran Kane stepped forward, his presence commanding but restrained. A veteran of the Federation's intelligence division, Kane had been instrumental in executing the coup, his forces ensuring that Valcor's loyalists were either neutralized or persuaded to step aside.

  He stopped beside Krell, arms folded neatly behind his back, his sharp gaze mirroring the same cold precision that had defined his career.

  For a long moment, the two men said nothing, simply watching as the st traces of Valcor's transport faded beyond the gravitational reach of Ashen Prime.

  Then, Kane finally spoke.

  "Enjoy your new position, Governor Krell." His voice was level, devoid of emotion, but there was a knowing edge to it. A warning disguised as a courtesy.

  "I have a feeling your work is just beginning to pacify the sector, to restore proper order in Kynara."

  The words hung between them, carrying an unspoken weight. This was no celebration. There were no grand speeches, no triumphant decrations. Power did not change hands with fanfare, it shifted in silence, in moments like this.

  Krell didn't respond immediately.

  Instead, he let his eyes linger on the vastness beyond the viewport, where the darkness of space stretched infinitely before him.

  Valcor's reign had ended, but the Ashen Sector was far from stable.

  The Bck Sun Syndicate had colpsed, but smaller factions, criminal enterprises that had once thrived under Valcor's shadow, would now scramble to seize the scraps. The fragile coalition in Kynara, the halted psychic ore trade, the abandoned research boratories and smuggled weaponry, the fractures in Federation control. These problems did not disappear with one man's downfall.

  They had only just begun.

  The Federation had given him power, but with it came the weight of expectation. To bring order. To lull the resistance. To ensure that Ashen Prime did not spiral into chaos. But order was never as simple as enforcers and ws. It was an illusion, one that had to be carefully crafted, maniputed, controlled.

  And Krell knew control better than most. He would start by designating a hero of justice to reward, and he knew just the right choice for that.

  A slow, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips, not of arrogance, but of understanding.

  This was merely the next phase of the game.

  And he was ready to py it.

  "Yes, Admiral," Krell finally said, his voice calm, measured. "I believe it is."

  The two men stood in silence as the st traces of Valcor's transport disappeared into the bck void of space.