Whatever world it is, whatever you’ve done there for better or worse, you always leave the same way. Alone. - Richard K. Morgan

When I was younger I used to go out looking for squalid brawls in the streets of Newpest. This got a couple of people stabbed, neither of them me, and led in turn to my apprenticeship in one of the Harlan’s World gangs, Newpest chapter. Later on I upgraded this kind of retreat by joining the military: brawling with a purpose, and with more extensive weaponry, but as it turned out, just as squalid. I don’t suppose I should have been as surprised as I was—the only thing the Marine Corps recruiter had really wanted to know was how many fights I had won.

Naturally these penalties were applicable only to private citizens, not military commanders or government executives. The powerful are jealous of their toys.

I tried for the Envoys once," Trepp said suddenly.
I glanced sideways at her, curious. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, long time ago. They rejected me on profile. No capacity for allegiance, they said."
I grunted. "Figures. You were never in the military were you?"
"What do you think? She was looking at me as if I'd just suggested she might have a history of child-molesting. I chuckled tiredly.
"Thought not. See, the thing is, they're looking for borderline psychopathic tendencies. That's why they do most of their recruiting from the military in the first place."
Trepp looked put out. "I've got borderline psychopathic tendencies."
"Yeah, I don't doubt it, but the point is, the number of civilians with those tendencies and a sense of team spirit is pretty limited. They're opposing values. The chances of them both arising naturally in the same person are almost nil. Military training takes the natural order and fucks with it. It breaks down any resistance to psychopathic behavior at the same time as it builds fanatical loyalties to the group. Package deal. Soldiers are perfect Envoy material.