The silence in the lab was a new kind of silence.
It wasn't tense.
It wasn't awkward.
It was the quiet, humming silence of a machine that had finally, after a great deal of screaming and sparks, been brought into alignment.
The simulation was over.
The argument was over.
Kael, the stoic, skeptical soldier, was now just staring at the blank holographic display, a look of profound, and slightly terrified, respect on his face.
The other fighters, the survivors of The Nursery, were looking at Miles with a new, wide-eyed awe.
They had just watched him perform a miracle.
A very painful, very repetitive, and deeply unsettling miracle.
Leo was the one who finally broke the spell.
He let out a long, low whistle.
"So," he said, his voice a little shaky. "That was intense."
"I think I need a nap."
"And a hug."
"And possibly several years of therapy."
He looked at Miles, who was still leaning against the console, his face the color of old parchment.
