The Odys Arcadia's main comms chamber was dimmed, its usual hum subdued in honor of what was unfolding.
Captain Ilaya sat alone in the central chair. Around her, the officers and crew remained respectfully silent. Even the hum of machinery seemed muted, as if the ship itself listened.
EVA's degraded avatar shimmered gently, steady now, like a candle against the dark.
"Preparing full playback: Atlas Kael, final legacy transmission. Compressed log compilation selected. Stand by."
The lights lowered one final degree. Then came his voice.
"To whoever finds this..."
Atlas Kael's tone was calm, steady not like a man dying, but a man who had made peace with it. No bitterness. No rage. Just a soft, human resignation.
"My name is Atlas Kael. Pilot of the Valkyris-9. This is my last recording. I don't know if this will ever reach anyone. If it does... tell Earth I tried. Tell them I waited. And I didn't go mad not fully. Not all the way."
A nervous chuckle followed, quiet and broken.
"If anyone's still out there... I hope the war's over. I hope kids still laugh. I hope you see the stars as something beautiful again, not just coordinates or escape routes."
The transmission continued, a collage of selected logs. His voice ranged from gentle musings to philosophical questions. Some sections were near whispers in the dark.
"I'm talking to you now because talking to EVA stopped being enough. I needed a human to hear me. Even if you're not born yet. Even if you're just a voice on another ship centuries from now."
Then: "We built machines to fly farther than our hearts could handle. And we did. But we left people behind in the process. People like me."
His voice wavered but never broke.
Near the end of the transmission, the logs shifted to more personal memories.
He spoke of Lia again her eyes, her warmth, her stubbornness.
He recalled Earth not as it was, but as he wanted to remember it. Green fields, rain on steel rooftops, the smell of coffee and oil in an old garage his father once owned.
And then... "To my mother, if this ever makes it to you: I'm sorry I didn't call more. I thought I had time."
A pause.
"To everyone else... don't be afraid to live. Even if it's just for a little while. Even if it's alone."
Silence followed. And then the final words:
"I was here. I mattered. Not because I changed the world. But because I wanted to. And I tried. That should count for something."
The room remained silent long after the playback ended. Captain Ilaya leaned forward, pressing a hand gently to her heart.
"I hear you, Kael," she said softly.
Outside the ship, the void still stretched infinitely. But for a moment, it didn't feel empty. It felt sacred.
Kael's voice had crossed the stars. And now, someone had listened.