Chapter 24: The Long Silence
(Kael's Perspective)
I woke to the sound of beeping.
Sharp. Repetitive. Unforgiving.
And cold. So cold, my fingers barely moved when I tried to clench them. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—white, softly curved, lined with blinking monitors. The Omen's medbay.
I was alive.
I didn't expect that.
I turned my head, slowly. Every nerve screamed. My throat was dry. My chest ached like something heavy had collapsed inside me. Something might have.
But then I saw her—Mira—slumped in the chair beside me, arms crossed, head tilted slightly, asleep but clearly on guard. Like if she blinked too long, I'd vanish.
I tried to speak.
"...Mira."
It came out as a rasp.
She jerked awake instantly. Her eyes widened and for a moment—just a second—something cracked in her calm.
"Kael," she whispered. Her voice trembled.
I've seen Mira shoot two enemies mid-air while defusing a bomb. I've watched her drag three injured agents across a minefield. She doesn't tremble.
But right now, she did.
"You shouldn't be up," she said, trying to gather herself. "You barely made it out. I—" Her voice broke again, and she cleared her throat. "I thought I lost you."
I blinked slowly. "So did I."
She reached for a water pack, helped me drink. The fluid burned going down, but it brought clarity.
"What happened?" I asked.
"You tell me," she said. "Your drone went dark. Nexus imploded. No comms. Just static and a weak tracking ping. I followed it and found you orbiting a dead star in a glorified coffin."
I nodded slowly, piecing fragments together.
"The Nexus had a failsafe. One I didn't see coming. A mind lock—digital memory interference. I had to fry my own chip to break the loop."
Mira's eyes widened. "That could've killed you."
"Almost did."
Silence settled between us like dust. Heavy. Unwanted.
I looked away.
"I saw them," I said quietly. "All of them. The ones we left behind at Meridian. The ones I couldn't save. They were in the Nexus. Or what I thought was the Nexus. Their voices… it felt real. Too real."
She didn't say anything. Didn't need to.
She knew what ghosts were. We both did.
I continued. "But the worst part wasn't seeing them again. It was feeling like I deserved it. Like dying in that loop might've been easier than waking up."
Mira leaned forward, her voice low.
"You don't get to quit, Kael. Not after everything. Not after coming this far."
I met her eyes.
There it was again—that fire. Not just duty. Not just loyalty. Something more.
"Why do you stay?" I asked her. "Why follow me when every path I walk ends in ruin?"
She didn't flinch. "Because I believe in who you are beneath all that ruin. And because no one fights like you do when you believe in something. I've seen it."
I didn't have a response.
The medbay lights dimmed slightly, shifting into rest cycle mode. Time was slipping past us. War still waited at the threshold.
But for now, we were here.
Alive.
Together.
Later that cycle, Mira brought me my coat. I sat on the edge of the medbed, legs weak but steady. She handed me a data slate with mission updates—tactical reports, Alliance shifts, a new communication from Sol's resistance.
I skimmed it, but my eyes kept drifting back to her. The faint bruises on her arms. The red lines in her eyes from lack of sleep.
"You didn't rest, did you?"
She shrugged. "Didn't want to."
"Mira…"
She looked up.
"I'm not going to disappear again," I said quietly. "Not like that."
"I know," she said.
And I think—for the first time—I meant it.