The cave had known silence before, but never like this.
Not the tense, bitter silence of arguments and frayed nerves. No, this silence was thicker—earned. It came after days of suffering, misunderstandings, and near-collapse. It was the silence that came when people stopped pretending and started preparing.
Kael stood hunched over the center console of the command slab, the projection before him flickering with interference. Oris, seated on a dented crate beside him, typed rapidly into a module spliced together with wires scavenged from both destroyed and donated mechas.
"We need to kill it underground," Kael muttered, his arms folded. "On the surface, it's got reach. Below, maybe it's slower."
Oris shook his head. "You're thinking wrong. It's a burrower, Kael. Below is its home. We force it up here, where it's vulnerable."
Kael looked toward the dim jungle fog beyond the cave entrance. "That thing caused the last three tremors."
"And if we don't kill it soon," Oris added, "it's going to destabilize the entire launch path."
Kael leaned in. "Tell me your plan."
Oris tapped into the holomap. "We mimic seismic tremors using pulse plates — low frequency, long duration. It'll think another Kaiju is infringing on its territory. That draws it up."
"Then?"
"We blast it with ion disruptors. No killing blow, just enough to blind it for thirty seconds. While it thrashes, I'll use the new neuro-stinger from the Ravager parts to short out its nervous system. Paralyze, not kill. Then you do your thing."
Kael stared at him. "You want to trap it alive?"
"I want its blood intact. The more damage we do, the faster it bleeds out. We lose fuel that way."
Kael's eyes narrowed, gears turning in his head. "Fine. We do it tomorrow at dawn."
Oris smiled faintly. "You've gotten more patient lately."
Kael didn't respond.
---
Outside the forge chamber, Tyren, Trask, and Draan moved through the foggy plateau that once belonged to the white spacecraft. The wreckage had been mostly stripped and recycled, but the shell was still useful.
Tyren crouched over a dry section of stone and tapped a beacon spike into the rock.
"This is the cleanest launch vector. One wrong tremor, though, and it'll break into a fault line."
Trask frowned. "So... it's not stable?"
"It's stable if the burrower is dead."
Draan chuckled bitterly. "So we just have to kill a giant, acid-spitting centipede."
Tyren smirked. "Better than being useless."
Trask crouched down beside the map table they'd set up on the wreckage floor. "We mark out a hundred-meter path of cleared stone. No trees, no caves, no sinkholes. If Wraithcraft lifts, it needs thirty seconds of clean burn."
Draan added, "We'll weld stabilizer rings along the edge. If we survive, you'll get to see us fly."
Tyren's gaze darkened. "You better survive. Otherwise, this was all for nothing."
For once, the old men didn't joke.
---
Meanwhile, back inside the cave, the girls were in the supply room. They weren't fighting — not this time. Instead, they were working.
Kira inspected broken drone wings. Freya adjusted a gravity welder. Lisette sorted small drive cells, fingers moving with mechanical focus.
Freya spoke up first.
"No more pettiness. Not here. Not now."
Lisette gave a tired smile. "We've wasted enough time."
Kira added, "We'll settle scores after we escape this hellhole."
They paused, glancing at one another. The tension hadn't vanished, but it had frozen — suspended beneath a thin layer of resolve.
That was enough.
Together, they brought the salvaged parts to Oris, who nodded approvingly.
---
That evening, after the day's work was done, the core crew gathered briefly — not for dinner, not for celebration, but for coordination.
Kael stood quietly as Oris outlined the plan once more on the central slab. Tyren leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Trask and Draan scribbled last-minute launch vectors. The girls sat near the back, listening without interruption.
"Tomorrow we draw the thing out," Oris said. "We kill it. We harvest it. That's step one."
"What's step two?" asked Kira.
Oris looked to Kael, who finally stepped forward.
"Step two… is escape."
No one cheered. No one smiled.
But for the first time since they crashed here, they believed him.
---
Later that night, Kael sat at the edge of the cave alone, sharpening his blade with slow, measured strokes.
Oris joined him, tossing down a warm ration pack. "Figured you hadn't eaten."
Kael nodded but didn't touch it.
"You good?" Oris asked.
Kael was quiet for a long moment, then finally said:
"I was starting to think I'd forgotten what purpose felt like."
Oris smiled. "You're not the only one."
Behind them, faint laughter echoed from the forge — the girls and Tyren arguing over whose patchwork armor looked more ridiculous. Even Trask's wheezing chuckle could be heard.
The air was still heavy.
But the silence was no longer suffocating.
It was watchful. Alive.
Like fire hidden inside fog.