Location: Aboard the Lucent Dawn frigate Vesper Halo, drifting in a quiet sector of the outer belt.
The stars outside the viewing deck weren't blinking.
They pulled. Unmoving, patient, old.
Aika sat with her knees drawn to her chest on the transparent platform overlooking space. She was wrapped in a thermal layer but had opened it at the throat—letting the cold kiss her skin. For once, the silence didn't press. It just… was.
Behind her, soft footsteps.
Veyla.
She didn't announce herself. Just lowered herself onto the platform beside Aika, boots crossed, arms resting on her thighs.
The air between them was full of everything they hadn't said during the battle.
Finally:
"I used to think stars were lies," Veyla murmured.
Aika glanced at her. "What changed?"
"You."
In the Medbay – Selene's Fracture
Selene lay under diagnostic light, her neural ports flickering softly as med-drones scanned her system.
She hated this part—being still. Being vulnerable.
Rin sat nearby, arms folded, watching the vitals.
"You could rest," Selene said, not looking at her.
"You could stop playing god with neural firewalls and maybe we'd all rest," Rin snapped—but her voice cracked halfway.
Selene finally met her eyes. Tired. Human.
"You think I don't hate what I've done?"
"I think you never admit when it hurts."
They were silent for a while.
Then Rin rose and did something unexpected.
She touched Selene's arm. Just lightly.
Selene flinched—then, slowly, relaxed into it.
Back on the Deck – Aika and Veyla
"Do you know what I thought when I kissed you?" Veyla asked.
Aika didn't answer.
"I thought, 'This is dangerous.' Not because of who you are. But because… I could fall."
Aika turned toward her, expression soft.
"I already am," she whispered.
Veyla blinked.
No bravado. No sarcasm.
Just truth, wrapped in quiet violet eyes.
Their fingers brushed.
And stayed.
Later That Cycle
The four women sat together in the common galley. Rin cooked, arguing with the auto-chef. Selene sipped protein tea with something suspiciously synthetic laced in it. Aika and Veyla played a silent game of reflexes—flicking a magnetic chip between their fingers, testing each other's timing.
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't peaceful.
But it was real.
For a few hours, they weren't soldiers or fugitives or weapons.
They were just four people floating in the dark, trying to remember how to be alive.