— Day Three
Grey Hollow didn't speak much on Day Three.
Even the machines seemed to run quieter. The turbines whined softer, the grit-sweepers passed with less complaint, and the PA system that usually chirped with weather updates and hazard warnings stayed strangely silent. Only the metallic crunch of boots on deck and the soft call of tools tapping against paneling reminded the people they were still part of something living.
Or maybe it wasn't the silence.
Maybe it was how loud everything else had become.
Kael noticed it first.
The way people glanced at the sky more than once. How neighbors who usually passed each other with nods now hesitated before parting. Conversations between shopkeepers or repair teams often ended more quickly and quietly, as if they didn't want to express their hopes or fears aloud.
Something had changed.
And it wasn't just the ship approaching.
It was them.
Kael didn't try to draw attention.
But he couldn't avoid it anymore.
When the coolant sensors in the northern grid went haywire, Kael arrived before the alert sounded. He rerouted power through a triple-buffer line before anyone from the service crew had even finished grabbing their gloves.
When Naya lost control of her stabilizer loop during vertical scaling drills and fell from the third rung, Kael caught her on his back not by strength, but by anticipating the failure point in the magnetic foot locks.
"Are you following me?" she asked afterward, still half-winded.
"No," Kael replied. "Just listening."
She stared at him for a second too long before limping off.
After that, people began whispering his name not as a curiosity, but as a variable.
A force.
Kael waited until evening to revisit Wes.
He didn't knock. Just stepped inside when the door buzzed green and stood there in the dim light of the recovery unit.
Wes lay propped against a thermal pillow, wrapped in gauze and diagnostic mesh. He didn't turn to look.
"I figured you'd show up," he said, voice rough.
Kael said nothing at first. Then, he placed a small cooling strip and a nutrient packet on the table beside him.
"For inflammation," Kael offered.
Wes exhaled slowly. "You're not here because you feel bad."
"No," Kael admitted. "I'm here because you don't."
Wes blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're not angry at Darven. Or the relay. You're angry at yourself."
Wes finally turned. "Don't analyze me, Kael."
"I'm not," Kael replied. "I'm recognizing a pattern."
Wes tried to sit up straighter. Grimaced. Then sighed.
"I trained for this my whole damn life."
"I know."
"And you?" Wes asked, turning his head fully now. "You didn't even want it. You're not even trying. But you're… everywhere."
Kael blinked, not in confusion but in understanding.
"I'm trying," he said. "Just not for what you think."
Wes looked away. "You ever feel like you were built for something and the world forgot to give you the chance to prove it?"
Kael considered that.
Then said, "Yes."
Wes didn't respond.
Kael stood silently for a moment longer, then turned to leave.
Before the door hissed shut, Wes said: "If you ever do go… don't forget about the rest of us."
Kael didn't look back.
"I won't."
Later that night, during the endurance cycles in the lower yard, Kael stood near the gear crates, fixing a faulty retraction line.
He didn't see Thessa approaching at first.
"You're drawing too much attention," she said.
Kael glanced up. "I'm not trying to."
Thessa squinted at him. "That's the problem."
Jace and Lenn were nearby, just finishing a routine resistance set. They both saw the conversation but didn't interfere.
Thessa folded her arms. "You're not on the roster. You're not being evaluated. You're not being tested. So what are you doing here?"
Kael answered plainly.
"I'm learning."
"From us?"
"Yes."
Thessa tilted her head. "You think you're better than us?"
"No," Kael said, straightening. "I think I see things faster than you."
She stared at him, trying to decide if he was joking. He wasn't.
Before she could respond, Darven's voice rang out from the platform above.
"Let the prodigy speak. Maybe if we keep him talking, we'll all get a passing score."
The group laughed, but it was the hollow kind. Defensive. Nervous.
Kael didn't flinch.
He turned back to his work.
But Thessa's gaze lingered longer than it should have.
And in it, Kael saw a different kind of recognition.
Near midnight, the temperature dropped.
The wind returned slowly and measured, pulling a strange static into the air. Grey Hollow's residents looked up, one by one, drawn to a noise they hadn't heard in generations.
A low rumble. Not mechanical. Not natural.
Above the canyon wall, the stars seemed to pulse.
Then bend.
Then the fracture.
A line of light carved across the sky, bright, deliberate, and impossibly controlled. It vanished after a few seconds, but its impression stayed burned in the eyes of everyone who saw it.
The UG ship had begun its atmospheric descent.
Not landing yet.
Just… reminding them.
It was here.
Mirena watched from the kitchen window, her hand tightening around the mug she held.
Arik stepped outside, his posture straighter than usual.
And Kael?
He stood alone atop the service ramp near the communications dish, arms folded across the railing, the silver haze of the pre-dawn light glinting in his eyes.
He didn't feel awe.
He felt velocity.