The storm had passed sometime in the early morning, one of the slow-moving tempests that rolled across the outer ridges, sweeping through the canyon with a dry static that left dust crusted against every window seam and filled the vents with the scent of scorched ozone. It hadn't shaken the foundations or cracked the dome's surface, but it had whispered against every inch of Grey Hollow like a memory trying to be remembered.
By nightfall, it was gone.
In its wake came the stillness, the kind that pressed into the corners of the Virek home like a second skin. The vents purred low with warmth, filtering recycled air in soft waves that whispered between rafters and sleeping rooms.
Only one light remained.
A narrow dome lamp glowed over the center table, casting an amber halo that bled gently across the floor. Its light didn't reach far, but it didn't need to. The rest of the house was asleep or pretending to be.
Kael sat beneath it, cross-legged, cradling an old relay coil in his hands. He wasn't fixing it; he was studying it and feeling the weight and watching how it rocked when he nudged it, finding its balance and losing it and seeing it again.
Mirena sat nearby, her cup of leaf blend cooling slowly in her palms. Her posture was relaxed, but her gaze flicked between the boy and the light like she was trying to preserve the quiet before the world turned loud again.
Across the room, Arik reclined in his chair, boots half off, one foot stretched toward the floor vent. His eyes tracked the soft blink of the wall panel out of habit. The sensor hadn't sounded in hours, but he checked anyway.
No one spoke at first.
The storm had left more than dust behind.
Then Kael's voice, soft and sure, cut gently into the silence:
"Do you ever think about leaving?"
Mirena blinked, caught slightly off guard. She turned just enough to meet Arik's eyes, then looked back at Kael.
"Sometimes," she answered honestly.
Kael tilted his head. "Why haven't you?"
Arik leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because the world outside isn't like here. It's faster. Harsher."
"But bigger?"
Arik nodded. "Much bigger. But it doesn't slow down for anyone."
Kael turned the relay over in his palm again. "Is there a place where people like me don't stand out?"
Mirena gently set her cup down.
"Maybe," she said. "But in places like that, people who stand out don't always get left alone."
Kael stared down at the coil.
"I don't want to be used," he said.
"You won't be," Arik said, quietly but firmly. "Not while we're around."
Kael looked up. "Would we ever go? Somewhere else?"
Mirena hesitated. "If we had to. If Hollow stopped being safe."
Kael nodded. "Then I'd help pack."
Mirena reached across the table, brushing a dark strand of hair from his face.
"You wouldn't go alone."
"I know."
She smiled faintly. "You're ours."
Across the room, Arik stood slowly, stretching. He moved to the reinforced window and looked beyond the dome's curvature. One of the moons had begun to crest the canyon rim, casting a pale glow over the settlement rooftops. Dust still clung in patches to the outer glass, painting the landscape in soft gold and silver streaks.
Then a sharp buzz crackled from the intercom panel near the door.
They all turned.
Static broke through first, then a steady modulation tone—the light of the panel pulsed blue.
Kael sat upright.
Mirena's eyes narrowed.
AArik'sshoulders stiffened.
"Attention, citizens of outer-sector colonies. This is a public broadcast from the Universal Government Recruitment Division."
Kael turned fully toward the panel.
In twenty-two standard months, UG Recruitment Trials will open for all qualifying applicants. Citizens aged sixteen and older will be eligible for screening, skills assessment, and training path allocation."
Mirena stood, her hand tightening around the edge of the table.
"Designated registration outposts will be distributed across your regional grid. Transport is guaranteed to qualifying candidates. The future is built by those who choose to rise."
The message repeated.
Then silence.
Kael looked up. "That means Jace and Lenn."
Mirena nodded, slowly. "Yes."
"And me?"
She knelt beside him.
"Not yet."
"But soon."
Arik returned to the table. "You'll only go if it's what you want. And if it's safe."
Kael turned the relay coil one last time.
Then set it down more carefully than before.
From down the hall, a door creaked open. Jace's voice, low but excited, carried faintly through the walls. Lenn's deeper murmur followed, full of electricity.
They'd heard the broadcast too.
Mirena's eyes met Arik's.
"They'll want it," she said.
"They've always wanted it."
"And Kael?"
Arik looked at the boy.
Still seated. Still silent. Still listening.
"He doesn't want a future," Arik said, barely above a whisper. "He wants a reason."
Kael didn't speak.
But he was listening.
He always was.