—Arrival at planet Veridia in five minutes — the ship's feminine voice resonated through the speakers, clear and precise, as if a cosmic flight attendant were announcing the end of a routine journey.
But there was nothing routine about this.
Everyone was already alert. Everyone was waiting for it.
The final five minutes of a seventeen-hour journey were always the longest. The densest. The ones that separated anticipation from action.
—Great — Kael said from his seat.
He didn't open both eyes. Just one. The right one. Like a lazy predator that doesn't deem it necessary to fully wake up to assess its prey.
—After almost seventeen hours — he continued, stretching out his words with a feigned boredom that fooled no one —. I'll finally get off this ship.
Hugo, from his seat, looked at him.
His quick eyes scanned his childhood friend with that efficiency that only years of coexistence can create. He saw the relaxed but ready posture. He saw the hand resting too close to the lance. He saw the right eye open, the left one closed, and knew exactly what it meant.
Kael was just as anxious as he was. He simply expressed it differently.
Hugo shifted his gaze toward the cockpit. The AI's silhouette was still there, motionless, processing data, adjusting trajectories. Lights flickered on the control panels. Everything was in order.
He looked back at Kael.
And a slight smile appeared on his face.
It wasn't a smile for the group. It wasn't a smile for the occasion. It was a smile just for his friend. One of those that appear without permission, without warning, when the familiarity of an old relationship imposes itself on the present.
Only the two of them spoke to each other. Occasionally, of course. It wasn't a constant conversation, nor even frequent. But when they did, there was something in their exchanges that the others didn't share.
Years of growing up together. Years of training together. Years of learning to read each other's silences.
Not that they needed to do it but...
That's how they did it.
---
On the other side of the cabin, Nayu remained motionless.
Her staff rested on her lap, her fingers still upon the metal. Her light green eyes were fixed on an undefined point on the wall, but her mind was elsewhere. Calculating. Processing. Preparing.
She had no one to talk to.
That's what they thought about Dorian.
According to Hugo, from his seat: This guy is alone.
According to Kael, with his right eye still open: This guy is mute.
According to Nayu, observing Dorian from her strategic angle: This guy doesn't talk. Though neither did she. But that was different. She chose not to talk. He simply seemed to... have nothing to say.
But the truth is, everyone was wrong.
Partly.
---
On the surface.
On the outside.
Where one can observe.
As far as the eyes can see.
Dorian was as his team members thought. Silent. Distant. Inscrutable. A wall of emerald coldness that offered no cracks to peek through.
But in reality, he wasn't like that at all.
Dorian did talk. And it was mentally.
If he told that to a person, they might think he was crazy. That the voices in his head were a symptom of something broken, something that needed repair.
But it's the truth.
He wasn't alone.
He never was.
—Sir — Omega's voice sounded, the same as always. Comforting. Familiar. Like an old friend who never leaves —. According to my recent analysis, your heart rate has increased by several percentage points in the last three minutes.
Dorian didn't respond immediately. He let Omega's words float in his mind, processing them with that characteristic calm.
—You're excited — Omega continued, and there was something in its tone that could have been amusement, if an AI could feel amusement —. Because you'll finally arrive at Veridia.
Dorian smiled. Mentally. One of those smiles that no one else could see.
—I'm an explorer — he replied.
He paused. He let the words take shape, find their exact weight.
—It's normal that I'm excited... — he said slowly —. For a new adventure.
—You're right, sir — Omega replied.
If Omega were a person, if it had a body and a face and expression, its response would have been something like: "That's how you are, you'll never change." Said with a sigh. With that mix of resignation and affection that only those who truly know someone can afford.
—In all your adventures, you've always been like this — Omega said, confirming Dorian's unspoken thought —. Since the first mission. Always that spark. That gleam in your eyes that not even you yourself notice.
Dorian didn't respond. It wasn't necessary.
—Your companions must be feeling the same way you are — Omega finally said —. Even though they express it differently.
Dorian slowly turned his head.
His green eyes swept across the cabin, pausing on each of his companions with that characteristic evaluating calm.
He saw Kael, with his right eye open and his falsely relaxed posture, his hand too close to the lance, his jaw slightly tense.
He saw Hugo, who had looked away from the cockpit and was now observing Kael with that slight smile only his friend could see.
He saw Nayu, motionless as a statue, but with her fingers moving imperceptibly over her staff, as if they were counting the seconds.
Of course they're feeling it too — Dorian thought.
And in his mind, the tone sounded happy.
Not euphoric. Not exaggerated. Simply... pleased. Satisfied. Like someone who recognizes in others what he feels in himself.
In reality, on the outside, a slight smile formed on his lips.
It wasn't a wide smile. It wasn't a smile that anyone not watching him closely could even notice. It was just a minimal movement at the corners of his mouth, a barely perceptible change in his facial expression.
And most importantly...
The others noticed it.
Kael blinked. His left eye opened to join the right. His expression changed slightly, as if he were reassessing something.
Hugo tilted his head a couple of degrees, his quick eyes fixed on Dorian, processing.
Nayu, from her corner, watched in silence. Her fingers stopped on her staff.
There were no words.
There was no mutual trust yet.
None of them had said a word, as is normal in a group that still doesn't know how to function. In a team that hasn't yet been tested.
But they were people.
They were warriors.
They weren't machines created in laboratories with a single function.
They had feelings.
And almost at the same time...
They also smiled.