The laughter lingered longer than anyone had expected, tapering gradually into softer conversation rather than ending outright. Cups were refilled without ceremony. Someone dragged a chair closer, the scrape of wood against stone echoing faintly before fading into the room's hum. The chamber—once reserved for war councils and rigid deliberation—had softened, its edges worn down by familiarity and time. Five seasoned veterans sat among two figures long absent, not as strategists or commanders, but as people reunited at last.
Eventually, it was Commander Alec who guided the conversation onto steadier ground. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice dropping just enough to signal a shift.
"So," he said. "We've heard bits and pieces. Whispers, really. The ship is moving more often. Maps are being revised. And you, Luke—being involved far more than anyone expected."
The others nodded, their expressions sobering.
