The next two days passed without incident. Preparations for the field expedition to the newly discovered ruins continued in full force. Gear checks, manifest sign-offs, briefings—the Academy was efficient, almost surgical in its execution.
But Niri couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Her instincts pulled at her constantly, like a tether . She had already warned Chancellor Yvith not to go. She'd spoken plainly. But the mission hadn't been canceled. No one questioned the destination. No one paused.
Among the five in her group, the topic came up often. Though tension ran just beneath the surface, it was masked well by excitement and nervous banter. They were cadets, after all—on the edge of something historic.
On the third morning, the call came through: all cadets were to report to the main launch platform.
Rows of students formed quickly—disciplined, quiet. Column after column waited beneath the massive vertical shadow of the launch towers. Suspended above them were three enormous cylindrical spacecraft, each a dull silver-gray with the Academy's insignia running down the sides. They were polished, ready. Purpose-built.
Each ship had the capacity to carry over three hundred cadets, fully equipped and housed for extended missions.
Above, just beyond the clouds, the Grounx escort fleet hovered in formation. Their angular warships cut a slow, deliberate path across Meridi Axis's upper atmosphere, casting shadows like moving scars across the launch pad. Their presence was both protective and unnerving.
Niri and her group—Qiri, Ronan, Tall, and Horn—were assigned to the second cylinder, along with other cadets from the archaeological, language, and conflict analysis divisions. The boarding process was slow but efficient, each line filtering through reinforced bridge tubes that extended from the towers into the sides of the waiting ships.
Inside the vessel, the atmosphere shifted.
The corridors were sterile but not harsh—clean lighting, reinforced panels, subtle gravity compensation systems. Rows of sleeping compartments lined the residential bays, each one marked with a cadet's name and unit symbol. Farther in, briefings rooms, simulation chambers, and a modest cafeteria filled the core of the transport. It wasn't luxury, but it was better than most cadets had expected
---
A few hours into the voyage, the five of them found a corner table in the mess deck. It was late in the ship's cycle—most cadets were still unpacking or exploring. The cafeteria, for now, was quiet.
Trays clattered down. Drinks hissed from sealed dispensers. Ronan kicked his feet up onto a nearby bench and leaned back, arms stretched behind his head.
"Six days," he said with a groan. "We're stuck in a flying tube for six whole days."
"Not stuck," Qiri corrected, sipping from a steaming container. "We're traveling in style. Better than a barracks i think."
Horn grunted. "I've slept in dirt with more privacy than those bunks."
Tall chuckled, tearing into a protein square. "At least these ones don't scream when you sit on them."
Ronan raised a brow. "Is that a Grounx joke? Because that sounded like a Grounx joke."
Niri sat quietly for a moment, poking at her food before finally speaking. "I still don't like this. The destination. All of it."
The group went quiet. Even the background hum of the ship seemed to grow louder in the pause.
Qiri leaned in. "You think something's really wrong?"
"I know something is."
Tall frowned, his expression thoughtful. "What?"
"I don't know," Niri said. "But it doesn't feel right."
Horn looked at her carefully, then nodded once. "Instincts like that shouldn't be ignored."
Ronan cleared his throat. "Okay. Just to balance things out—what if it's nothing? What if we go down there, dust off some ancient rocks, and come back heroes with credits and new research titles?"
"Then I'll be the first to admit I was wrong," Niri said quietly. "And I'll be glad for it."
Qiri gave a small smile. "We're with you either way."
Ronan added, "Yeah. Besides, we've got two Grounx with us now. Nothing's getting past Tall and Horn."
Horn tapped his chest lightly. "We're not miracle shields. But we'll try."
Tall added, "If it's dangerous enough to make you flinch, it's probably worth facing."
Qiri set her cup down and leaned forward, serious now. "We stick together. No matter what's down there. No wandering off, no solo moves. Agreed?"
The others nodded, one by one.
Niri gave a slow, measured glance around the table. "Agreed."
Ronan looked down at his tray and muttered, "Also agreed that this food is an abomination."
Qiri elbowed him.
Tall grinned. "Finally, something we all agree on."
They laughed—briefly, but enough to ease the weight in the room.
Then Tall leaned forward. "Anyone up for a visit to the simulation room?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Better to stretch before the real thing," Horn said, already standing.
Niri was curious, and despite the exhaustion, something in her wanted to move. She nodded. "I'm in."
The others followed, and soon they were in the combat chamber—a wide arena with reactive floors and calibrated lighting.
Horn looked at Niri with a half-smile. "You survived Porl's kick. Let's see what you can actually do."
The countdown Started
3.....2.....1
Horn charged.
Niri didn't flinch. She moved—fast.
She ducked beneath Horn's powerful thrust, spun, and delivered a sharp, calculated kick to his side. The force of it sent him stumbling. The simulation sensors flashed red. The system glitched for half a second—unprepared for the sheer impact.
Everyone froze.
Horn stepped back, his eyes wide. "That wasn't luck."
Tall whistled low. "Where did you learn to do that?"
Qiri stared. "Niri... what are you?"
Niri looked at them all, caught between confusion . "What... am I?"
Ronan gave a low whistle. "Remind me not to spar with her. Ever."
Even the Grounx were rattled. Horn flexed his shoulder with a grimace, then glanced at the glowing red panel above the arena.
"I actually felt that," he muttered. "You're not supposed to feel real force in here. The system dampens everything."
"It glitched," Tall added, pointing up. "Sensors blinked red. That's a system fault warning—only happens under extreme load."
Qiri's voice was barely a whisper now. "She's not like us. Not even close."she tell herself..
Niri followed their gazes to the blinking sensor display. Her brow furrowed.
"It's red," she said innocently. "Did I break something?
She had no idea what she'd just done.
And for the first time, none of them could laugh it off.
Tall broke the silence first. "Niri… your kick made the system glitch."
Horn, still rubbing his ribs, let out a shaky breath—half-laugh, half-shock. "I've never seen a red flag like that unless something's physically breaking."
He turned without waiting for a response and walked to the far end of the chamber, where a row of training dummies stood idle on weighted platforms. Designed for precise impact testing, they were rarely used at full capacity.
Horn dragged one into the center of the room. He tapped its interface until the calibration lights blinked green.
"Alright," he said, stepping back. "Now punch it. Full force."
Niri blinked. "You want me to hit it?"
Horn nodded. "Yeah. Let's see what that kick translated to with your fists."
She hesitated. "I don't think I've ever tried to punch something seriously."
"Doesn't matter. Just try."
Ronan leaned against the railing with a grin. "This is the highlight of my week."
Niri stepped up to the dummy, still unsure. She shifted her stance—off at first, then suddenly solid. Her feet rooted, her spine straightened, her arms loose but aligned. Like her body remembered something she didn't.
Then she punched.
A sharp, dry crack echoed through the chamber. The dummy lurched backward on its base, rocking from the force. Overhead, the diagnostics screen flashed white—then static—then scrolled into a blur of red code.
Tall leaned forward. "Is that a malfunction or an overload?"
Horn's expression didn't change. "That's a system crash."
The dummy's monitor rebooted—twice—before finally freezing on a result. The number lingered unnaturally long. No cadet should've come close to that range. Not unaugmented. Not raw.
Qiri stepped closer, her voice hushed. "That's powered-suit strength."
Ronan squinted at the screen. "Okay. Does anyone want to check her shirt for a hidden generator?"
Niri looked down at her hand, frowning. Her knuckles didn't hurt. No bruising, no swelling. "I didn't even hit it that hard."
Horn stared at her with a mix of awe and calculation. "You didn't need to."
The silence thickened. None of them were laughing anymore.
Niri glanced around. "That's not normal?"
"No," they said in near unison.
Ronan finally smirked. "If you're hiding something, I vote full Grounx protection for all of us. I'd like to live."
Horn turned to Tall. "You seeing what I'm seeing?"
Tall crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. "We just found our wildcard."
"Maybe even the spine of our own squad," Horn added. "Imagine what we could build around her."
Tall nodded. "She's either going to carry us to glory… or set the ship on fire."
Niri exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed. "Can you stop? I'm not different. I'm just me."
She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as them.
Ronan snorted. "Sure. Just you. Totally average cadet with system-breaking punches."
Qiri hadn't moved. She was still watching. Still analyzing. "You don't remember, do you?"
Niri turned toward her. "Remember what?"
Qiri didn't answer.