swallowing space

Kael hadn't moved in two cycles.

His body was stable now, thanks to Oris's anti-radiation work and Kira's mineral extract, but his mind was still locked away—trapped somewhere beyond reach. The quiet rise and fall of his chest was the only proof he was still fighting.

Oris sat beside him, exhausted. He hadn't slept.

Freya and Lisette worked quietly across the cave, but Kira walked over and sat down beside Oris without a word, her hands folded on her knees.

She stared at Kael for a long time before finally asking:

"Why does he pilot Ravager?"

Oris blinked. "What?"

"That mecha," Kira said. "It's unstable. Half its features are disabled. It fights like a wild animal. No auto-balance. No neural assist. It's dangerous to even sit inside it, let alone fight."

Oris stayed silent.

Kira continued, her voice soft but curious. "We saw the markings. That model's practically extinct. And yet he pilots it like… like it's all he has left."

Oris opened his mouth to speak.

But Tyren's voice cut through the cave like a blade.

"Because that's exactly what it is."

Everyone looked toward the shadows, where Tyren sat against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes distant and raw.

---

Tyren stood up slowly and walked forward, his boots scraping against the stone.

"You want to know why Kael drives Ravager?" he said, voice thick with fire. "Because no one else would touch that beast. And because it's the only thing left in this galaxy that hasn't lied to him."

Oris looked up, startled.

But Tyren wasn't done.

"Sit down," he said to Kira. "I'll tell you a story. One your command chain erased a long time ago."

---

Tyren didn't pace.

He just stood there, straight and still, speaking like the words had been carved into his soul.

"Once," he said, "there was a young commander-in-training. The kind you read about in war logs. He didn't just learn how to lead—he embodied leadership. Tactician. Combat ace. Ranked top ten across three galaxies in under twenty cycles."

He nodded toward Kael's resting body.

"That was him."

Everyone fell silent.

Even Trask and Draan, who stood near the comm rig, stopped moving.

Tyren continued.

"But that wasn't enough. You see… he had family. Powerful ones. A cousin—golden child of a top-ranking fleet—rich, loved, ambitious. The kind that climbs by stepping on others and smiling while he does it."

Kira frowned. "What did the cousin do?"

Tyren laughed bitterly. "He framed him. Leaked orders. Twisted battle stats. Made Kael look like he'd sabotaged an entire siege op to save civilian cargo from being vaporized."

"And his superiors believed it?" Lisette asked quietly.

"They didn't care," Tyren said. "Because the one who brought the 'proof' wasn't just family. He was backed by the same people who feared Kael's rise. So they locked him up. Stripped his rank. Tossed him in a command cell for 60 days."

Oris finally spoke. "They knew it wasn't him."

"They did," Tyren nodded. "But Kael's crime wasn't failure. His crime was trust."

He looked straight at Kira. "He trusted his lover. The woman who handed that 'proof' over was someone he would've died for. She knew everything. And she turned him in."

Kira's jaw tightened.

---

Tyren's voice dropped.

"When he got out, he was given a token apology and told to stay quiet. Not cleared. Just… released. Then, like the cosmic joke it was, the cousin and the girl came back. Reinstated. Promoted. Celebrated."

His fists clenched.

"They said Kael could apply for low-tier posts. 'Work his way back up.' That's when he stopped talking. That's when the Ravager was assigned to him—not as an honor. As a message."

"A punishment?" Kira whispered.

Tyren shook his head. "A death sentence. 'Here's a mech that'll kill you if you blink wrong.' But he didn't die. He mastered it. And then they couldn't kill him publicly without a scandal."

"And that's when Unit 404 was born," Oris finished softly.

---

Tyren looked around at them—every one of the newcomers quiet, even the old men.

"You know what 404 means, don't you?" he asked.

Lisette shook her head.

"It's a military code. 'Unit not found.' Not listed. Not recognized. A team that doesn't exist."

Tyren's jaw tightened. "They threw us away. Me—one of the best mobility pilots in the Reaper zone. Oris—top engineer and tech operative, black-ops certified. Kael—former battlefront prodigy."

He knelt beside Kael's still form.

"They tossed us all in a garbage bin, gave us broken mechs, and launched us into the void."

---

For a long moment, no one said a word.

Freya finally whispered, "That's why they only gave you fuel for one way."

Oris nodded. "They expected us to die. Quietly."

"And that's why Kael doesn't speak much," Lisette added. "He's not silent. He's scarred."

Tyren nodded slowly. "He didn't give up because of weakness. He gave up on people."

---

A low tremor passed under the cave floor.

None of them moved.

Because for once, the shaking wasn't from a Kaiju.

It was from truth — the kind that lingers.

---

Draan finally spoke, his voice hushed. "That crest on Ravager's plating… I remember it now. From the internal report archives."

Trask's eyes snapped toward him. "From where?"

"A decommissioned squadron. Ultra-black file. The name was redacted but the file was tagged: 'Null-Protocol – Silence Class.'"

Oris's eyes narrowed. "You're saying Kael was part of that class?"

"No," Draan said. "I'm saying… he might've been the only survivor."

---

And Kael still hadn't moved.

But somewhere, beneath that pale skin and sealed mind…

His fingers twitched.

Just once.

As if his soul heard every word.

---