The long-range engines hummed beneath Kael Mercer's boots as he stepped into the observatory
deck, a panoramic chamber wrapped in reinforced glass. Outside, the stars drifted past like ancient
ghosts, cold and unreachable. The rescue of the boy from the derelict vessel had left Kael with a
heaviness he could not name. A survivor after thirty-one years. A boy who shouldn't exist. A boy who
had whispered a single word before slipping back into unconsciousness something Kael wasn't sure
he heard right. A name. Or maybe a memory. He wasn't sure which unsettled him more.
Kael braced his hands on the railing, watching the glow of a distant nebula pulse like a dying ember.
Every breath fogged the glass for a moment before fading into nothing. He preferred the quiet. The
problem was the quiet preferred him too, curling around him like an old companion he thought he'd
buried years ago. The boy was stable now, resting under medical supervision, but the unanswered
questions gnawed at him with a kind of persistence he hated. If one person had survived that wreck,
what else could have survived? And what did they see before the end?
A soft hiss signaled the door behind him. Kael didn't turn. He didn't need to. He recognized the
footsteps measured, steady, too calm for anyone else on the ship. Commander Rae Stathis. She
approached with her usual composure, stopping beside him without a word. Her presence was a sharp
contrast to the constant hum of machinery a steady, grounded energy that Kael had always admired,
though he'd never admit it out loud.
"He's still unconscious," Rae said quietly, her gaze fixed on the streaks of cosmic dust outside the
window. "Vitals are holding. But his cellular structure shows signs of long-term stasis decay. He
shouldn't be alive."
Kael didn't respond. She gave him a sideways look.
"You went back to the wreck alone," she said. "Again."
He exhaled slowly through his nose. "The ship was unstable. Bringing a team would have risked more
lives."
"And you risking yours is better?" Rae countered, voice calm but edged with irritation. "You can't keep
doing this, Kael."
"Doing what?" His tone was sharper than he intended.
"Trying to outrun ghosts that aren't chasing you."
He flinched not visibly, but Rae caught it. She always did. She had a way of seeing through the calm
exterior he maintained, a skill he found useful and infuriating in equal measure. Kael rubbed the bridge
of his nose, letting the silence stretch between them. The stars beyond the glass shimmered like distant
warnings.
Rae softened. "This boy… he might have answers. But you're looking at him like he's a reminder."
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't. Instead, he turned away from the window and started walking. Rae
followed.
"Where are you going now?"
"To the med-bay."They moved through the ship's curved corridors, the metallic floor echoing under their steps. The lights
overhead flickered, recalibrating as the vessel adjusted to a new trajectory. The air smelled faintly of
disinfectant and engine fuel, a combination Kael associated with the aftermath of every rescue, every
failure. The med-bay doors slid open with a whisper.
Inside, the boy lay on a narrow cot, his breathing shallow but steady. His skin had regained some color,
though not enough to erase the fragile, frost-touched look that clung to him. Kael approached slowly,
eyes scanning the monitors more out of habit than concern. Rae stood beside him.
The boy twitched.
Kael stiffened.
A moment later, his eyes opened wide, disoriented, shimmering with a mix of fear and recognition. His
lips parted, and his voice came out cracked, barely audible.
"You… came back."
Kael's pulse stumbled. Rae leaned forward slightly.
"What's your name?" she asked softly.
The boy's gaze remained locked on Kael. "You don't remember me," he whispered.
Kael's throat tightened. Something cold slid down his spine.
Rae exchanged a quick look with him. "Kael, does he"
"I've never seen him before," Kael said quickly. Too quickly.
The boy winced as if struck. "That's not true."
Kael opened his mouth, then closed it. His thoughts were suddenly a storm, memories battering the
inside of his skull flashes of fire, a voice calling his name, a hand slipping from his grip. He bit the
inside of his cheek to ground himself.
Rae stepped closer to the boy. "Tell us what you remember."
The boy swallowed. "The storm came through the hull. People were running. Someone pushed me into
the pod. I heard alarms, screaming… and him." His gaze flicked to Kael again. "He told me not to be
afraid."
Kael's breath caught.
"That's impossible," he said quietly. "I wasn't there."
The boy reached for his wrist weakly, but with purpose. Kael didn't move fast enough to avoid it. The
boy's cold fingers brushed his skin.
"You promised you'd come back for me," he said.The words hit Kael with the force of a physical blow. His vision dimmed around the edges. Rae touched
his shoulder, grounding him.
"Kael," she murmured. "What is he talking about?"
But Kael barely heard her. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
The boy looked at him with something like desperation.
"Why did it take you so long?"
The hum of the ship deepened, a low vibration running through the med-bay floor. Kael's hands curled
into fists.
"I don't know you," he said through clenched teeth.
The boy's eyes filled with grief. Or betrayal. Kael couldn't tell which hurt more.
Rae stepped between them, her expression taut. "We need to run a psychological scan. He might be
confusing memories."
"He's not," the boy whispered.
Kael turned away, jaw tight. He couldn't look at him anymore. He couldn't breathe in that room.
Rae followed him out into the corridor. "You're shaking," she said, alarmed.
Kael didn't deny it. "He's wrong," he muttered. "He has to be."
"Kael."
He stopped walking. Rae stood in front of him, eyes steady.
"What if he isn't?" she asked.
Kael stared at her, the question sinking into him like ice. He didn't answer. He couldn't.
Because deep inside, past the walls he'd built, a memory was stirring.
A memory he'd spent years trying to forget.