Vanguard Fleet Medbay sounded alive.
That was the strange part.
Soft footsteps crossed polished floors in measured rhythms while medical scanners hummed steadily behind sealed doors. Nurses moved through the corridors carrying datapads and portable monitors, their voices low and practiced beneath the white glow of overhead lighting. Somewhere farther down the hall, someone laughed weakly at a medic's terrible joke before the sound faded back into the quiet mechanical heartbeat of recovery.
From the outside—
it sounded normal.
Like healing had already won.
But inside Room Twelve—
everything still felt unfinished.
Kael's recovery room no longer resembled a temporary medical unit.
Someone had changed it.
Probably Serena.
Possibly Leona.
Potentially both of them terrifying medbay staff into surrender.
The harsh lighting had been dimmed into softer gold tones that warmed the sterile walls. Extra blankets rested folded neatly near the couch. Real food sat untouched beside cooling tea cups and abandoned datapads. A chair near the bed had been dragged far too close, as if somebody had physically refused to sit farther away.
It looked lived in.
Occupied.
Human.
And at the center of it—
Kael Ardent sat upright against the raised support of the bed.
Alive.
That still didn't feel entirely real.
Bandages wrapped tightly beneath the loose black shirt medbay had finally allowed him to wear instead of a patient gown. His movements remained careful in ways Kael normally despised, but there was still sharpness in him.
Still energy.
Still Kael.
He looked exhausted.
Not weak.
There was a difference.
Ryven sat beside the bed in complete silence, one arm resting against the chair while his other hand loosely held a datapad he clearly had not looked at in several minutes. Fresh from the shower, dark hair still slightly damp, he carried the same quiet gravity he always did.
Grounding.
Steady.
Like he physically refused to exist farther than arm's reach away.
The room door slid open.
And immediately—
the atmosphere shifted.
Torres entered first.
Of course he did.
Not carefully.
Not quietly.
He arrived like a disaster with excellent hair.
Kael sighed immediately.
"You're making that face again."
Torres stopped mid-step.
"What face?"
Kael pointed weakly toward him.
"That disappointed investor face."
A beat.
"The one where you think I personally ruined your financial future."
Torres looked genuinely offended.
"YOU DID."
The shout echoed through the medbay hard enough that something metallic crashed in the hallway outside.
A nurse cursed faintly.
Aria walked in directly behind Torres and smacked the back of his head immediately.
"Stop screaming in a hospital."
Torres rubbed the back of his head dramatically.
"I am expressing grief."
"You're expressing volume."
"They're connected."
Behind them, the rest of the Elite slowly filtered into the room.
Lucian carrying actual paperwork because apparently trauma could not stop him from being Lucian.
Mei balancing three datapads against one arm.
Rafe carrying coffee for everyone.
Sylas and Lysander moving silently beside each other in near-perfect synchronization.
Marcus somehow walking like he respected gravity on a spiritual level.
Darius ducking slightly beneath the doorway despite not being tall enough to hit it.
The room became fuller instantly.
Warmer.
Alive.
Kael looked across them slowly.
And for one brief second—
something inside his chest eased.
Not because things were fixed.
Because they were here.
"Wow," Kael muttered.
A pause.
"You all look terrible."
Aria snorted.
"You got skewered through a mech."
"And yet somehow," Kael replied, "I still look better than Torres."
Torres gasped loudly.
"UNPROVOKED."
"That was absolutely provoked," Mei said without looking up.
Ryven's shoulder moved slightly beside the bed.
Not quite a laugh.
Close enough that Kael noticed immediately.
And because Kael was still Kael even half-dead—
his mouth curved faintly.
There you are.
Sylas stepped closer toward the bed.
"How's the pain?"
Kael shifted slightly against the support cushions.
The movement dragged discomfort across his ribs hard enough that his expression tightened briefly before smoothing again.
"Manageable."
Honest.
Which meant it still hurt like hell.
Ryven's eyes flicked toward him immediately anyway.
Kael ignored that entirely.
"The others?" he asked quietly.
The room shifted.
Rafe answered first.
"Two are still critical."
Silence settled heavily.
"But stable."
Marcus nodded once.
"Most of the injured are expected to recover."
A pause.
"Some won't pilot again."
That landed harder.
Because every single casualty from the Wrong Sky had been seniors.
Final-year cadets.
Graduating classes from every academy.
Their last evaluation before becoming officers.
Their last step before finally entering the real world they had spent years preparing for.
Kael lowered his eyes briefly.
Thinking.
Counting.
Remembering faces.
Then he noticed something strange.
Torres and Mei stood near the projection system.
Talking quietly.
Far too quietly.
Which was deeply suspicious.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"What are you two doing?"
Both froze instantly.
That alone was incriminating.
Aria looked irritated immediately.
"Oh no."
Lucian sighed softly.
"That reaction is never encouraging."
Torres straightened dramatically.
"It's fine."
Mei finally looked up.
"It is not fine."
"Traitor."
Kael's gaze sharpened.
"Torres."
The room quieted immediately.
Not because Kael raised his voice.
Because he didn't.
That tone always meant something serious underneath it.
Torres exhaled once.
Then the joking disappeared completely.
"We've been compiling records."
Kael's posture shifted carefully.
"What kind of records?"
Nobody moved.
Nobody interrupted.
Torres swallowed once before answering.
"…casualties."
The room froze.
Even the monitors suddenly sounded louder.
A nearby nurse paused halfway through adjusting an IV line.
Another medic near the doorway stopped entirely.
Kael looked directly at Torres.
"Show me."
Not a request.
A necessity.
Torres hesitated only briefly.
Then he lifted the datapad.
The walls came alive.
Not with numbers.
Not statistics.
Faces.
Hundreds of them.
Senior cadets.
Final-year students.
Future officers.
Pilots only weeks away from graduation.
Some wore evaluation patches stitched proudly onto academy jackets.
Others stood smiling beside mechs they would never pilot again.
One Titan cadet grinned while holding a cracked helmet under one arm.
A Vega engineer posed beside a half-disassembled targeting system.
A Stella command-track senior slept face-first against simulation reports while friends laughed around him.
Smiling.
Exhausted.
Confident.
Alive.
The projections spread across every wall until the medbay itself felt crowded with ghosts.
Not children.
Not recruits.
People standing right at the edge of becoming who they were supposed to be.
A nurse near the back gasped softly.
One medic turned away immediately, jaw tightening hard enough to visibly shake.
Another nurse pressed trembling fingers against her mouth while staring at the image of an Astra support cadet laughing beside a supply transport.
Nobody spoke.
Because there was nothing to say.
Kael stared at the walls silently.
At every face.
Every almost-future.
A memory surfaced suddenly.
A Titan senior arguing with him during deployment prep over shield formations.
A Vega engineer proudly explaining a targeting system she planned to submit after graduation.
A Stella command cadet complaining about surviving three days without proper sleep while preparing fleet simulations.
A support cadet laughing because they were finally almost done.
Almost graduates.
Almost officers.
Futures interrupted just before they began.
The room felt heavier with every passing second.
Not dramatic.
Real.
Human.
Kael inhaled slowly.
Carefully.
Then finally spoke.
"They shouldn't be remembered as casualties."
His voice wasn't loud.
But everybody heard it.
The nurses.
The medics.
The Elite.
Even the people standing outside the partially opened medbay door.
Kael kept looking at the walls.
"At the end of all this…"
A pause.
"…they shouldn't just become names inside a report."
Silence wrapped around the room completely.
"They should be remembered…"
His throat tightened slightly.
"…as the ones who once lived."
Something broke quietly nearby.
A nurse crying.
Trying not to make noise.
Failing.
Kael's eyes drifted across the projections again.
Smiling faces.
Unfinished futures.
Lives stopped at the edge of tomorrow.
"…forever young."
The words settled into the room gently.
And somehow—
that made them hurt worse.
Nobody moved.
Even Torres looked shaken now.
Actually shaken.
No performance.
No jokes.
Just grief.
Kael finally turned slightly.
Toward Ryven first.
Then toward the others.
The Elite.
His family.
And something inside him settled into certainty.
"Let's make a pact."
Aria's expression softened immediately.
Lucian straightened slightly.
Mei lowered her datapad.
Nobody interrupted him.
"Wherever we end up after graduation…"
Kael's voice remained steady despite everything.
"…we grow old."
A pause.
"Very old."
Torres made a wounded sound immediately.
"You saying that while half-dead feels emotionally manipulative."
Aria elbowed him hard enough to nearly knock him sideways.
"OW."
Kael's mouth twitched faintly despite himself.
Then he continued.
"We live well."
Another breath.
"And full."
His gaze moved carefully across every person in the room.
"For them."
Silence answered him.
Not empty.
Sacred.
"For those who will always be…"
His voice lowered slightly.
"…forever young."
Nobody laughed.
Nobody moved.
Because every single person in that room—
understood exactly what that promise meant.