Late hours enveloped the ship, casting quiet stillness over the cabins and corridors. A gentle hum resonated softly through the bulkheads, the rhythmic pulse of engines and subtle vibration of life-support systems blending seamlessly into the silence. Most cadets had retreated to their quarters, leaving the corridors deserted and the ship deceptively peaceful.
Niri lay flat on her narrow bunk, eyes fixed unblinking on the ceiling panel, watching as dim indicator lights flickered rhythmically. Sleep felt impossible. Her thoughts churned relentlessly, replaying what had happened in the simulation chamber again and again—the unexpected strength, the reactions, the confusion.
That kick. That punch.
She had thought her actions normal—perhaps slightly above average but certainly not extraordinary. Yet the looks on her friends' faces had clearly shown otherwise.
"Damn," she whispered to herself, pressing her palms to her eyes in frustration. "This is bad."
Now they would ask real questions—dangerous ones she had no safe answers for. Her chest tightened at the thought.
A faint, hesitant knock at her door made her sit upright sharply, her heart skipping a beat. For a brief moment, she contemplated ignoring it, hoping whoever it was would leave her in peace. But the knock persisted, gentle yet insistently present.
With reluctance, Niri swung her legs over the side of the bunk, padding barefoot across the cool metallic floor. She opened the door slowly, unsurprised but apprehensive to find Qiri standing there, expression taut with concern.
"Hey," Qiri spoke softly, feathers twitching nervously. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," Niri replied quietly, stepping aside. Qiri entered, taking the small chair opposite Niri's bunk. Silence stretched briefly as the door sealed shut behind them.
Qiri didn't waste time with small talk. "I need answers, Niri. Honest answers. We all know you're hiding something. After today, it's beyond obvious."
Niri sat heavily on the bunk, feeling cornered yet strangely relieved at the blunt confrontation. "Ask, then."
Qiri leaned forward slightly, her feathers a shifting mosaic of anxiety. "Are you… modified? Biomechanical or enhanced?"
The question startled Niri. She shook her head immediately. "No. Absolutely not."
"Then what is it?" Qiri demanded, voice tight with a restrained mix of curiosity and fear. "Because that wasn't normal. It wasn't even close."
Niri hesitated, her mind racing. She had lied before—easily, repeatedly—but looking at Qiri now, earnest and worried, she couldn't summon another deception. The truth rose like bile, unavoidable. It was time.
"You won't believe me," she finally murmured, eyes downcast.
"Try me," Qiri insisted, tone softer but still firm.
Niri inhaled deeply, gathering courage. "My species… it's considered mythical. Everyone believes we're extinct."
Qiri's expression turned skeptical, cautious amusement flickering briefly. "What? You're saying you're Gateborn? A human?"
"Yes," Niri responded simply, eyes lifting to hold Qiri's gaze directly, unblinking.
The humor faded instantly from Qiri's face, replaced by stunned disbelief. "Niri, that's not funny."
"I know."
The air seemed to vanish from the room as the silence deepened, heavy with the weight of revelation. Qiri's breathing grew rapid, shallow, feathers flashing chaotically in vibrant hues of shock—deep reds and turbulent blues.
"You're serious…" Qiri managed to whisper, hands trembling slightly.
"Completely," Niri confirmed quietly.
Qiri stood abruptly, knocking the chair back a bit, feathers flaring with visible distress. She paced briefly, turning sharply to stare at Niri. "That's impossible. Humans… they're stories. Myths. Gone."
Niri offered quietly, voice thick with weary resignation. "Apparently not."
Qiri's eyes searched hers desperately. "The Chancellor? Professor Lu'Ka? They know this?"
Niri nodded slowly. "Since the moment they found me."
Qiri's breath hitched, realization dawning harshly on her face. "You've kept this hidden from all of us? From me?"
"It wasn't about trust," Niri said urgently, guilt seeping through her tone. "It was for safety. Yours, mine—everyone's."
Qiri sank back into the chair, hands gripping her knees tightly, feathers pulsing wildly before slowly dimming to subdued colors. "Why now? Why tell me?"
"Because you asked," Niri admitted softly, honestly. "And because I can't lie to you anymore. You've earned the truth."
Qiri stared at the floor, processing silently, visibly shaken. "The strength today…you didn't know?"
"I didn't," Niri confessed. "I didn't even know I could do that. It just happened."
Qiri nodded slowly, absorbing each word. Her voice dropped to a whisper, uncertain and raw. "Do you remember your past? Who you were?"
"Bits," Niri said, voice barely audible. "Flashes of battles, piloting, fighting. Something horrible happened—I ended up alone on Dakun. I can't piece it all together."
Qiri lifted her eyes, finally meeting Niri's again, the disbelief now tempered by genuine concern. "You're really a human. An actual Gateborn… alive."
Niri nodded once, sharply.
"This is… huge," Qiri breathed shakily. "If anyone else found out—"
"I know," Niri interjected quickly. "That's why I hid. Why the Chancellor and Lu'Ka kept it secret."
Qiri straightened slowly, regaining composure. Her feathers settled into calmer patterns, muted blues and hesitant purples reflecting her internal struggle. "I won't say anything," she assured finally, sincerity clear. "But no more secrets, Niri. Not between us."
"Promise," Niri agreed, relief easing the knot in her chest.
Qiri stood slowly, moving toward the door but pausing at the threshold, turning back to Niri briefly. "Just… no more surprises. Please. I don't think my heart can handle another shock like this."
Niri smiled faintly, genuine and apologetic. "I'll do my best."
As the door hissed shut behind Qiri, Niri sank back onto her bunk, staring once again at the ceiling panel. The weight of her secret hadn't disappeared, but sharing it felt strangely liberating, like finally drawing a deep breath after being submerged too long.
Exhausted, she closed her eyes, knowing sleep might finally come—though peace, she suspected, remained elusive.
---
Back in her own cabin, Qiri sat at the edge of her bed, frozen in place. Her hands rested limply in her lap, her feathers slowly cycling through disorganized patterns. She felt disoriented, like gravity had shifted sideways.
"A human," she muttered aloud, barely able to believe the sound of it. "An actual human. Not theory. Not myth. Not dead."
Her throat felt dry. Her heartbeat drummed too fast in her chest. Every story, every whispered legend from her early schooling came flooding back—the Gateborn, the wars, the collapse. The ones who vanished. The ones the Council had always denied truly existed.
It couldn't be real. And yet… she'd seen Niri's eyes. Heard her voice.
It was real.
Qiri pressed both hands to her face, trying to stop the shake in them. Her mind refused to settle. Thoughts looped, spun, overlapped until she could barely breathe.
She flopped back onto her bunk and stared at the ceiling, trying to will her thoughts into order. The ship rocked gently with motion, as if nothing had changed. But everything had.
She turned onto her side and shut her eyes tightly.
She couldn't tell anyone. Not just because she promised, but because she realized something else now—if this truth had shaken her, what must it be like for Niri, who had lived it alone, in silence?
The secret was dangerous. And Qiri finally understood why it had to be kept.
Sleep refused to come.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But she knew one thing for certain: nothing about this mission would ever be routine ...