The walk back home felt shorter than the walk there.
It wasn't because the streets of Helion had changed — they were still the same pristine avenues, the same buildings piercing the night — but because I now carried a new weight in the inner pocket of my pants. It wasn't a physical weight; the Council's medal was light, almost ethereal. But its presence was constant, a metallic stillness that reminded me with every step that something was coming. A team. A new intelligent world to explore. Veridia.
I shook my head, as if the gesture could push the premature thought away.
Not yet.
There was still a week to go.
Helion vibrated around me with its elegant, orderly nightlife. The blue crystal towers reflected the moonlight, shattering the sky into thousands of mirror-like shards. I passed by a group of young Council recruits; I recognized them by their spotless uniforms, still untouched by the dust of other worlds. They laughed with nervous energy, exaggerating feats they clearly hadn't lived yet. I watched them for a moment before continuing on my way.
I had been like that too. Though, in my case, I had been much younger than they were. Maybe, I thought, it wasn't so bad. At least I had already left that stage behind.
When I reached my building, I went in and crossed the lobby, still as busy as it had been when I left hours earlier. I walked to the private elevator. The biometric scanner recognized my silhouette and the doors slid open with an almost imperceptible whisper. The cabin rose through a soft vacuum to the high residential levels, to the hundredth floor — the top — where I lived with my older brother. Far from the constant noise of the main avenues. The hallway was silent, lit only by lines of white light that snaked along the floor like artificial veins.
My home.
The door opened and the smell of food wrapped around me at once.
My brother had cooked again.
"You're late," Nairo said from the kitchen without turning around. "And don't tell me you got lost staring at holograms again."
I couldn't help but smile.
"I missed you," I replied, dropping onto the couch. "And no, this time I got lost staring at the Council."
I didn't know why he said I was late; I wasn't a little kid anymore, after all.
Nairo snorted. He had his back to me, stirring something in a floating pan suspended over a thermal field of vibrant blue. His black hair with orange highlights was tied back carelessly, like it always was when he slipped into his "culinary focus mode."
"The medal?" he asked, curtly.
I took the dark blue metal hexagon from my pocket and placed it on the coffee table.
Nairo finally turned around. His eyes, the same shade of green as mine, moved from the medal to my face, studying me with that look he'd perfected since we were kids: the look of the older brother who never fully trusts that the younger one won't break at some quiet bend in the road.
"Good job," he concluded after a few seconds, his voice a little softer. "Luminus wasn't a walk in the park."
"No," I admitted. "But I made it back."
Nairo turned off the thermal field and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. The kitchen light deepened the shadows under his cheekbones.
"And now what?" he asked. "Don't look at me like that. The Council never gives something without expecting something in return, even if you earned it."
I hesitated for a moment.
"They assigned me to a team. The next mission is in a week."
That was enough to change his expression. Not to anger, but to something heavier, more thoughtful.
"A team…" he repeated, as if tasting the word. "I guess it was only a matter of time. That you'd have to learn to live with one."
I said nothing. Nairo knew me too well not to notice the discomfort stirring beneath my apparent calm.
"It's not the same as working with me," he added, lowering his voice. "Council teams are… variable. Unstable, sometimes."
"I know."
"Then don't shut yourself off," he said, pointing at me with the ladle he was still holding. "Not everyone is a problem. Some of them might even have your back when you can't."
The idea felt strange. Not because I didn't trust other Helionians, but because I'd spent too long trusting only myself… and him.
The food was ready shortly after. Nairo had made one of those dishes that didn't have an official name, just a combination of ingredients bound together by memory: Helion thermal vegetables, high-density synthetic proteins, and spices imported from a world we had visited together years ago. The first bite tasted like home. Like something deeply comforting.
I had said I wasn't a child anymore, and that was true. But secretly, I liked it when Nairo spoiled me.
We ate in silence for a while, only the soft clinking of cutlery against the dishes.
"By the way," Nairo said suddenly, breaking the calm. "Where's the new mission?"
I looked up.
"On a planet called Veridia," I replied, taking another bite. "According to the reports, there are signs of intelligent activity."
"Uh-huh… Then it'll be very different from the kind of world you just came back from," Nairo observed, taking a sip of wine.
"Very… very different," I muttered, my mouth still full.
A faint smile crossed his face before he went back to focusing on his plate.
After eating, I went to my room. I placed the medal on the desk, next to my personal ID and the communicator where Omega had left a few pending reports. I walked over to the glass wall of my room and gazed at the city stretching as far as the eye could see, a tapestry of lights and shadows beneath the starry sky.
Then I sat on the bed and let myself fall back onto the softness of the mattress. The silence of the room wrapped around me, dense and familiar.
A team — I repeated in my mind after a few moments of stillness.
I didn't know who they would be. I didn't know if I could trust them, or if they would trust me. I didn't know if they would fit with me… or if I would fit with them.
I looked once more at the medal, its dark blue surface faintly catching the ambient light. Then I turned my gaze to the ceiling and, with a deliberate blink, turned off the lights.
I didn't have to like the idea.
I just had to face it when the time came.
For now, my room was calm.
And I, against all odds, was too.