— Day Four
The scent of grilled root and pan-seared synth meat hung in the air, weighty and earthy, like a hearth in an old-world home.
No one in the Virek family spoke as they moved to the table. They just gathered shoulders brushing in narrow doorways, boots clunking softly against metal flooring, eyes never quite meeting for more than a second.
Mirena didn't fuss over presentation. She slid the plates down in front of each of them, Kael's portion smaller, Arik's seasoned heavier, Jace and Lenn's stacked high with extra protein. The seating arrangement hadn't changed in years, yet each chair felt more temporary now.
Only the occasional scrape of fork against plate filled the space.
Jace sat upright, his hands tensed like he was still holding a training baton. Lenn chewed slower than usual, eyes drifting every few minutes to the ceiling vent fan. Kael took small bites, not because he wasn't hungry but because he was listening to everything: the way Arik's jaw clicked as he ground molars in thought, the slight tremor in Mirena's spoon as she stirred her broth, even the pause in Jace's rhythm when his hand gripped the edge of his plate for just a second too long.
"You adjusted the environmental settings again," Arik said finally, not accusing, just observing.
Mirena nodded. "I didn't want the dome temperature to dip too low tonight. Some of the older panels creak when it's cold."
No one challenged her. They all knew she'd done it to keep the night feeling normal.
Lenn shifted in his seat. "Wes got his final medical clearance revoked today."
Jace exhaled hard through his nose. "Figures. He shouldn't have gone back on those drills so soon."
"He's angry," Lenn said.
"He should be," Kael added quietly.
All heads turned toward him, surprised he'd spoken.
Kael looked back at them calmly. "He worked harder than most of the others. And now he doesn't even get to try."
"It's not fair," Mirena said. "But it's what happens."
"They'll never tell us what they're selecting for," Jace muttered. "Not until we're already in it."
Arik stirred the remains of his stew. "That's by design."
"But it doesn't scare you?" Lenn asked. "Not knowing what you're walking into?"
Arik looked at him. "Of course it does. But being scared and being unprepared aren't the same."
Kael didn't eat for a long time after that. He sat with his hands folded on the table, watching each of them. Memorizing. He wouldn't say so out loud, but something about tonight felt like a timestamp, like the moment before everything pivoted away from what it had always been.
Mirena reached across the table, placing her fingers gently over Kael's wrist.
"Don't overthink it, love. Let them go, and let yourself stay. Just for now."
Kael nodded. But his eyes stayed on his brothers.
"You'll come back," he said to them, not as a question, but as a statement.
Jace tried to grin. "With scars and stories."
Lenn's voice was softer. "With answers."
"I'll have questions ready," Kael replied.
The family sat for a few more minutes in silence, bowls half-finished, utensils idle.
Then Arik stood slowly and placed his hand on both Jace and Lenn's shoulders.
"When the time comes," he said, "don't fight to impress them."
Lenn frowned. "Then what?"
"Fight to stay you," Arik said. "That's what most people lose first."
Kael stayed at the table after the others drifted toward their separate corners of the home. He sat there, his small hands tracing the fading warmth of the bowl before him, his mind already somewhere else.
Eventually, he rose.
The sleeping quarters were dim, lit only by the low glow of emergency strips lining the walls. Jace had already turned in, one arm over his eyes. Lenn was quiet, unmoving, either asleep or pretending to be.
Kael passed them both in silence, turning instead toward the narrow access hatch near the comms panel.
He pulled it open gently, slipped through, and began climbing.
The wind had quieted by the time Kael reached the rooftop. The metal rungs were still warm from the day's sun, and his fingers moved over them without hesitation. He didn't bring a light. He didn't need one. The moons were bright enough tonight, half-lit orbs casting a soft silver glow across the ridge spires and the weathered rooftops of Grey Hollow.
He liked it up here.
Not because it was high, but because it was quiet in a different way than the house below.
Downstairs, silence was heavily weighted with unspoken goodbyes and restrained emotion.
Up here, silence was clarity. Clean. Honest.
Kael settled onto the ridge of the outer comms panel, his legs pulled to his chest, chin resting atop his knees. The wind brushed against him gently, carrying with it the faint scents of heated stone and old coolant vapor. Somewhere far off, he could hear the soft groan of the east dome shifting in its mountings. But closer… everything else was still.
He stared up at the sky.
Not to look for the stars, he knew their positions by memory now, but for the missing ones. The ones that didn't blink. The ones that moved.
They weren't there yet.
But they would be.
The UG ship would come.
He knew that as surely as he knew how many seconds passed between the flickers of the dome's secondary power lights. As surely as he could trace the decay pattern in the old atmospheric purifiers by sound alone. As surely as he felt things before they happened.
It wasn't knowing in the traditional sense.
It was more like remembering something he hadn't been taught.
Something inherited.
Kael looked down at his hands. They were small, still, but steady. Stronger now. Scarred from tools, not battle. He curled them into fists, slowly, then opened them again.
He'd spent the past two years watching. Studying, repairing, and learning through silence.
Not just mechanics.
People.
He'd learned to read the shift in Arik's breathing before he spoke. The weight behind Mirena's words when she was trying not to cry. The way Lenn's voice flattened when he was afraid. How Jace's movements got sharper when he doubted himself.
They all thought he was quiet because he didn't know what to say.
But Kael had learned that listening was its own kind of voice.
And now… things were moving.
Too fast.
And not fast enough.
Jace and Lenn would leave soon. That was inevitable. Kael had accepted it. Even if something deep in his chest twisted when he thought about the quiet their absence would leave behind.
But he also knew what was waiting for him.
Not the UG.
Not yet.
But something else. A path only he could follow.
Maybe it had started already.
Maybe the way people were looking at him now, like he was both asset and anomaly, meant the silence wouldn't protect him for much longer.
He pulled his knees tighter.
Beneath the stars, with the dome lights casting a dim yellow arc behind him, Kael whispered into the wind:
"I'm not ready."
The words felt strange in his mouth.
Because they weren't true.