Location: Excavation Site — Cliffside
The Sentinel-class warship still hovered in the sky—vast, unmoving.
Its shadow carved a long, silent wound through the dusk—a jagged silhouette slashing across the orange haze. It didn't hum. It didn't pulse. It simply existed, like a forgotten god returned.
No one dared speak of it now.
Not out loud.
Not after what it did.
Niri sat alone at the edge of the cliff, her knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped around them like she was trying to hold herself together.
The wind up here was colder. Sharper. It pulled at her scarf and hair, bit at her skin like it wanted her attention—but her mind wasn't here.
Her gaze stayed locked on the horizon. Not on the ship. Not on the valley below. Just... away. As far from everything as she could stretch.
She hadn't eaten. Hadn't spoken since she snapped at Lu'Ka. The words had come from somewhere deeper than anger. From fear. From exhaustion. From a memory she still wasn't ready to look at directly.
She didn't regret saying them.
She regretted the truth behind them.
She regretted that she was right.
Footsteps approached—light, hesitant.
She didn't turn.
"Hey," Qiri's voice came gently. "I, uh... brought something."
She held out a sealed ration pack. Nothing warm. Nothing fresh. Just a bland protein block from the ship's stores. It had been days since Niri had eaten. She wasn't sure anymore.
Still, she didn't reach for it.
"...You can sit," Niri said quietly.
Qiri sat slowly, careful not to crowd her, leaving just enough space to say: I'm here if you need me. Not if you don't.
They sat in silence for a while.
Niri's shoulders were too tight. Her jaw ached from how long she'd been clenching it. Her fingers twisted into the fabric of her scarf, as if bracing for something unseen.
"...Are you afraid?" Qiri asked finally, her voice barely audible.
Niri's eyes shifted toward her, just a little. Then, after a pause:
"Yes," she said. "Not just afraid." Her voice cracked. "I'm terrified."
Qiri didn't try to soothe her. She didn't say it's going to be okay. She just let the truth sit.
Niri looked back toward the ship.
"It's not about me anymore," she whispered. "I think I have to speak to it."
Qiri turned, eyes widening slightly. "Speak to... that thing?"
"Do I have a choice, Qiri?" Niri's voice dropped low. "If I try, and it answers, everyone will know what I am. You, Ronan, Thall, Horn, Lu'Ka... we'll all be in danger."
Before Qiri could respond, another set of footsteps approached. Slower. Heavier.
Professor Lu'Ka.
He stopped a short distance away, his voice soft. "Are you well, Miss Niri?"
Niri considered the question. A long breath passed before she answered.
"Yes, Professor. I'm better."
But her voice didn't match the words, and neither did her posture.
Lu'Ka didn't press her. He stepped closer and eased down to sit beside them, cross-legged in the dust. He said nothing at first.
Qiri broke the quiet. "She's thinking of speaking to it."
Lu'Ka's brow furrowed. "The ship?"
Niri nodded without looking at him. "I don't think I have a choice anymore."
Lu'Ka waited, calm as ever, giving her the space to say it on her own terms.
Niri's fingers flexed against her clothes. "If I make contact... it might recognize me. Or what I am. And if it does, the truth gets out. To everyone. And that puts all of you at risk."
She finally looked down at her boots. "That's what terrifies me most."
Lu'Ka tilted his head slightly. "You believe it will respond only to you?"
"I don't know. But it reacted in my presence. That wasn't coincidence."
Qiri's voice came in quietly. "She's right... if that ship is tied to her species... it won't just respond. It'll recognize."
The wind picked up, tugging at their clothes. The warship still hovered, silent and colossal, like it had all the time in the universe to wait.
"We can't hide it much longer," Lu'Ka said at last. "Not if you intend to make contact."
Qiri's jaw clenched. "And what happens after? When the Grounx realize the ship that tore through their fleet wasn't alien tech, but hers?"
The word hung unspoken, but Niri heard it anyway: Gateborn.
She flinched.
Lu'Ka's voice remained calm, professional, but heavy with intent. "That's why we act now. Carefully. If she speaks, it must be on our terms—not theirs."
Qiri looked to him sharply. "And how do you expect to keep her safe? When Thall and Horn find out? When the Grounx demand answers?"
Lu'Ka's gaze flicked to Niri, then to the ship again. "We contain it. Tight circle. No one else—until we know whether the ship will respond violently or not. If it does—"
"You'll need me anyway," Niri cut in. "You said it yourself. No one else can communicate with it."
Lu'Ka nodded once. "Then we do this properly."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You'll be placed in a controlled environment. Audio dampeners. Visual relays. Qiri stays with you. Ronan handles the signal line. If anything goes wrong, we cut it before anyone else hears or sees a thing."
Niri looked at him for the first time since the excavation fell apart. "And if the ship ignores me?"
"Then all we've risked is secrecy. Not lives."
Qiri wasn't convinced. Her voice came lower, heavier. "And afterward? Even if it works, even if it listens—what happens next? Do we survive just to watch her hunted for what she is?"
Lu'Ka didn't answer right away.
Then, simply: "You, me, Ronan, Thall, and Horn. That's who protects her."
Qiri let out a bitter breath. "Thall and Horn won't agree to that. Not after what they lost."
Niri spoke up then—barely a whisper. "I'll tell them. Myself. All of it. Before I speak to the ship."
Qiri blinked. "You're serious?"
"What else can I do?" Niri asked. "If I lie now, it'll be worse later. At least if I'm honest... they might believe I'm not hiding anything."
Lu'Ka nodded slowly, something unreadable in his expression—approval, maybe. Or respect.
Qiri looked over at Niri again, softer this time. "Then say it. Just once. To me."
Niri hesitated.
Her throat tightened. Her chest felt hollow.
But she said it.
"I'm human."
The wind carried the word down the cliffside.
The ship didn't stir. The sky didn't shatter.
But something shifted—between them, between everything.
Qiri exhaled. "Good. Now: 'I don't control that ship.'"
"I don't control that ship," Niri repeated.
Lu'Ka stood, brushing dust from his coat. "Then we move. You'll speak to them first. I'll prep whatever comms gear we have left. If your speech lands, we isolate you and lock the area down—no professors, no cadets, and no one from the remaining Grounx legion anywhere near the communication tent. Qiri, stay with her."
He paused, looked down at Niri. "And thank you, Niri."
Niri didn't speak.
But for the first time in hours—she nodded.
---
Qiri gathered Thall, Horn, and Ronan inside one of the smaller utility tents near the rear of the camp. The interior was dimly lit—just enough to catch their faces. The air smelled faintly of dust and scorched earth from the battle.
Horn crossed his arms, posture rigid. "So why exactly did you bring us here, Qiri? We have drills to prep, relay equipment to check—"
"We need to salvage what we can," she cut in quickly. "Before that thing wakes again."
Ronan's eyes narrowed. He wasn't buying it. "You didn't call this meeting for salvage. What's going on?"
Qiri took a breath. "Niri wants to speak to you. All of you. But before she does, I need you to listen carefully and stay calm."
Thall leaned forward, frowning. "Is she hurt?"
"No," Qiri said. "Not physically."
Ronan's voice turned sharper. "Then why are we being warned to stay calm?"
Qiri hesitated. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. Then she looked at all three of them in turn.
"Because once she tells you the truth... things won't be the same."
Horn let out a low grunt. "Truth about what?"
Qiri didn't answer. Instead, she turned toward the tent flap.
"She's right outside. Just... let her speak."
The flap shifted. A gust of cooler air slipped in.
Niri stepped inside.
Her posture was tense, her arms held stiffly at her sides, fingers curled into tight fists. She didn't meet their eyes at first. She just stood there, quiet, as if steadying herself against an invisible storm.
Thall looked confused.
Horn looked wary.
Ronan straightened slowly, gaze narrowing.
Qiri gave Niri a slight nod from behind.
Niri swallowed. "I need to say something," she said, voice low. "And I need you to hear it all—before you react."
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Niri took a step closer.
"I'm not who you think I am."
Her throat tightened. It was harder to say than she expected. Her hands trembled.
"I wasn't born in the Drift. I wasn't raised in the outer sectors. The identity I use—'Niri Velas'—it isn't real."
Thall exchanged a quick glance with Horn. Ronan stayed still, eyes locked on her.
Niri drew in a breath and forced herself to continue.
"I'm human."
The word hit the air like a dropped weapon. Cold. Final..