“Then say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say I’m being fired because I refused to close the inspection.”
Paula looked toward Graham.
Graham’s jaw tightened.
“You are not being fired for a safety report.”
“Then show me the restructuring plan.”
“You are not entitled to internal management documents.”
“Am I the only technician being eliminated?”
Neither answered.
Caleb looked at Paula.
“Am I?”
Her silence answered.
He sat back.
Nine years.
Nine Christmases.
Hundreds of overnight callouts.
He remembered sleeping on a folding chair once because an aircraft needed troubleshooting at five in the morning and driving home felt pointless.
He remembered Emily bringing baby Nora to the hangar parking lot so Caleb could hold her for fifteen minutes during a twelve-hour shift.
He remembered Northstar sending flowers to Emily’s funeral.
He remembered returning to work two weeks later because sitting at home felt unbearable.
All of it now compressed into the phrase operational alignment.
Paula slid papers forward.
“There is a separation package.”
Caleb looked at the first page.
It included two weeks of pay.
Unused vacation.
Continuation information.
A release agreement.
He read enough to understand signing would waive certain claims.
“I’m not signing this today.”
Paula nodded.
“You are entitled to review it.”
Graham looked irritated.
“Of course he is.”
Caleb stood.
“Can I collect my things?”
“Security can accompany you.”
“I’ve worked here nine years.”
Graham said:
“It’s standard procedure.”
Caleb almost laughed.
“Apparently so.”
A security guard named Miles walked with him to Hangar Two.
Miles looked embarrassed.
“Man.”
He whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Caleb nodded.
“Not your call.”
His toolbox belonged to him.
Northstar allowed technicians to remove personal tools after inventory.
That would take longer.
For now, Caleb took only personal desk items.
The photograph.
Mug.
Gloves.
Nora’s ornament.
He placed them into a cardboard box from the parts room.
Nobody spoke at first.
Then Dev Patel walked over.
“What happened?”
Caleb kept looking down.
“Restructuring.”
Dev stared.
“They fired you?”
Caleb nodded.
“For what?”
“Position eliminated.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Ronan heard.
He came around the nose of an aircraft.
“What did you say?”
Caleb looked at him.
“You were right.”
Ronan’s face went completely still.
“Westbridge?”
“They said restructuring.”
Ronan removed his safety glasses.
“What did you sign?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
Caleb picked up the box.
“I just want to go home.”
Lena approached.
Mara came from dispatch.
Eli Foster stopped what he was doing.
Word moved through a hangar faster than any official email.
By the time Caleb reached the center aisle, fifteen people knew.
By the time he reached the front doors, nearly thirty did.
Caleb hated it.
Not because he was embarrassed to be fired.
Because people were looking at him with sympathy.
He could handle anger.
Sympathy reached places he was trying to keep closed.
He fixed his eyes on the exit.
If he could reach the parking lot, he could fall apart inside his truck where nobody saw.
He made it within ten feet.
Then Ronan spoke.
“Hold up.”