Jett's footsteps were too fast for the measured rhythm of the Leviathan, Apex's mothership. The sound of his boots striking the polished obsidian floor echoed through the observation hall, a silent space where holographic star charts rotated like miniature galaxies.
Two figures sat in leather chairs, watching the artificial stars. Enlil was on the left.
"Hey, look," Jett said, almost out of breath as he stopped in front of them. He projected a small hologram from his arm.
"What is it, Jett?" Enlil asked, his tone layered with practiced boredom. "Another fleet meme?"
"It's a video," Jett insisted, the urgency in his voice cutting through the calm. "One of the guys managed to record it at the exit of the first planet. That weaponless ladybug that got away from thirty newbies."
Enlil shrugged. "So what? You care about ladybugs now? They were newbie hunters—the scum of the game."
"You don't get it," Jett said quietly, intensely. "Enlil… look at these maneuvers."
Reluctantly, the two stood, their eyes fixing on the hologram.
The video was low-quality, shaky. It showed a chaotic swarm of ships firing wildly at one another while a single red Star-Mite—a flying junk can—danced among them with impossible grace. It didn't fire. It didn't flee in a straight line. It used its attackers as shields, its maneuvers forcing friendly fire, its movement turning the ambush into farce. A ghost inside a machine.
The silence in the hall grew heavy.
"Ishy!?"
The word was a whisper, slipping from the lips of the only woman there, Ria. Her face was caught between shock and dread.
Enlil reacted as if struck. His expression hardened, the mask of calm snapping into defensive irritation. "No," he said, the word sharper than necessary. "She can't even play anymore. She doesn't even have a place to live. She's probably rotting in some alley somewhere." The cruelty in his voice was an attempt to convince himself, to reinforce the story that let him sleep at night.
"What's going on here?"
The voice came from the entrance to the hall, cold as vacuum. Ninsun walked toward them, her steps soundless, her presence instantly filling the space. "Weren't you supposed to be celebrating the fall of yet another rival guild?"
Jett quickly cut the hologram. The already tense mood evaporated.
"It's nothing, love," Enlil said, forcing a smile, the snap back into the needy boy instantaneous.
Ninsun's gaze was glacial. She stopped in front of him. "I've told you before. In here," she said, her voice low, carrying absolute authority, "it's 'Commander.'"
The color drained from Enlil's face. The smile vanished. "Sorry," he murmured, staring at the floor. "Sorry, Commander."
Ninsun didn't smile. Her eyes passed over each of them—Enlil, Jett, Ria. A look that didn't judge, but calculated. She could feel the ripple of something unresolved, the ghost of a memory that refused to die.
And she didn't like it.