Ashen Sector Governor Tallis Krell POV:
Governor Tallis Krell tapped through a few lines of encrypted console data, narrowing his gaze at a flagged report. The document wasn't a broad system alert or crisis notification. It was something more refined. Smaller in scope, but flagged by one of the internal investigation cells that reported directly to his office.
He opened the attachment. An intelligence memo unfolded across a quarter of his desk's broad display.
A few lines in, he found it. The familiar names.
Subject: Rell Varn
Affiliation: Independent Salvager — Dock Registry License 117-Sitael
Connection: Cousin Jalen Varn (Recorded as missing during Third-Cycle, reappeared hours later, minor injuries)
Their testimonies didn't appear in any of the public security logs. Which was exactly what Krell expected.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, scanning the transcript. The screen shifted slightly with his motion, realigning the projected text to stay in view.
Interview Log — Rell Varn
"Can you describe him and your encounter?"
"Short black hair. Deep and calm eyes. Quite tall, maybe mid-thirties? A little slender but still strong. Didn't give a name, didn't want payment. Just told me to give him the details. Asked to meet me later at a spot in the maintenance junction. Then he got Jalen out without making a sound."
"Did you recognize him?"
"Not at all. He just seemed like a merc, a quiet one. I was desperate. I begged the first person I saw who looked capable. He agreed. Helped. Please... don't get him in trouble. I dragged him into this."
Krell's exhale was slow and sharp through his nose.
''There were no surveillance traces in the sector's terminal logs. No override pings from security drones. No signs of hacking into the emergency substation or tampering with the corridor grav-traps. Not even a hint of psionic interference. And certainly, no anomalous digital fingerprints.''
Ethan's AI, Iris, hadn't left anything behind. Not a line of exposed code. Not a fluctuation in the camera feeds. She was built for precision, silence in execution, perfection in clean exits. If someone was combing through the data looking for breaches, they'd find only static and routine. No footprints. No shadows. Nothing but the illusion that nothing had happened at all.
But the human element? That was always the soft trail. That was harder to erase.
And Ethan knew that.
He wasn't naïve. He didn't believe in perfect secrecy, not in places where eyes were everywhere and information could slip through even the smallest of cracks. But he also wasn't the kind of man to clean up his tracks with blood. He didn't silence witnesses for convenience. He didn't erase lives to protect his anonymity. He wasn't a murderhobo psychopath who viewed collateral damage as acceptable.
If someone innocent got involved, he helped them. Protected them. Left them with their dignity intact and their memories blurred only by confusion and adrenaline, not fear. That was the choice he made, again and again, even if it risked being remembered. Even if it left a thread someone could pull.
Krell's lips twitched into a faint smile as he minimized the file.
The Governor didn't need a name. He recognized the style. The restraint. The silence. The surgical dismantling of a problem without ever demanding attention.
"Walker," he murmured. "You're unpredictable… but also effective."
This wasn't a sanctioned Federation operation. It wasn't a sweep by Krell's enforcement arm. It hadn't been conducted by the anti-crime task forces that patrolled Ashen Prime's underlayers.
It had been one man.
And someone had quietly and efficiently unraveled a blacksite setup beneath his station. An op tied, once again, to extremist-aligned factions.
And the mercenary hadn't even broken stride.
Krell sat back further, gazing past the rotating galactic sector map spinning slowly on the far wall display.
"You didn't do it for me," he thought. "Or for the Federation. But that hardly matters."
The damage was done. And on the game board that was the Federation's political frontier, another extremist pawn had been removed, and none of their opponents had to lift a finger.
He chuckled softly.
That was the irony, wasn't it?
Ethan Walker, the unaffiliated, unaligned, unauthorised anomaly, had already cut into the extremists' influence on Kynara. Hard.
And now, without even realizing it, he had done it again. On a much smaller scale, yes, but no less cleanly. A cut made with precision and zero ceremony.
Krell tapped a few keys, collapsing the report and toggling the intelligence overlay. Strings of color-coded faction markers lit up, showing ship routes, communications, and flagged hotspots.
"You don't need to pick a side to start hurting the wrong ones."
That thought circled his mind as he stood up and walked toward the large galactic display that dominated the rear of his office.
A shifting 3D map hovered in the air. The Orion Federation laid out like a glowing neural network, systems blinking, pathways threading between them like veins of light. At its edges, the fringes pulsed with threat indicators: piracy, smuggling, factional tensions, disputed trade zones.
The places where Walker would go next.
He watched the lines arc away from Ashen Prime, projecting outbound corridors, calculating the most likely vectors Ethan's ship would follow. A few led toward neutral territories. Others, deeper into core Federation space. But no matter the destination, it would be another place where chaos simmered beneath the surface.
A place where a man like Walker could make a difference, intentionally or not.
"Keep moving, Mr. Walker," Krell said aloud, a whisper meant only for himself.
"The galaxy is large... but your shadow's only growing."
He lingered there for a while longer, hands clasped behind his back. Not smiling anymore, not exactly. But something sharp remained in his eyes. A clarity.
Then, slowly, methodically, he returned to his desk.
Another file was already blinking to life, budget reform proposals for sector-wide energy reinvestment.
The work never stopped.
But he tapped through the display with a renewed steadiness. Quiet satisfaction humming beneath his poise.
Ethan Walker was gone.
But the echo of his passing still reshaped the board.
And Krell would be watching closely.