The sky above R22 rumbled with eerie silence, like a beast hiding behind clouds. The carcass of the Kaiju they had just killed rested under the reinforced tarp near the base camp, steaming slightly in the dim, radioactive atmosphere.
Ryssa stood near the field tent, arms crossed, watching Kael with unreadable eyes. He was cleaning the edge of Ravager's blade, his movements slow and methodical, lost in a loop of discipline he had drilled into himself for years.
The way he moved—precise, cold, emotionless—it sent an involuntary chill up her spine.
Not fear.
Regret.
She stepped forward, finally letting her boots crunch across the rocky soil.
"You haven't said much," she offered.
Kael didn't look at her. "There wasn't much worth saying."
"Kael…" Her voice was softer now. "I just—wanted to make sure you're okay."
Now he looked up.
His eyes were cold steel. "This isn't the place to play nurse, Ryssa."
Her lips tightened, just slightly. "You don't have to keep pushing everyone away."
"We're on a planet crawling with smarter, metal-armored Kaiju. You think I've got time to entertain your misplaced guilt or emotions?"
Ryssa flinched. That struck deeper than she'd admit.
She kept her tone professional. "Fine. Then here's a tactical suggestion. We've done our part. Let's head back to the battleship. That carcass could change everything, and the analysis team is better equipped than us. They have resources. Lab-grade tools. Scientists."
Kael stood up, towering over her. "You think they'll tell us the truth once we give it to them?"
"Better than us dying here trying to cut it open with combat knives," she countered.
There was a long silence.
Behind them, Tyren climbed out of Brawler, sweat streaking his face, grease smudged across his neck. "If you're done flirting, can we talk survival?"
Ryssa gave him a death glare. Kael didn't even smirk.
"She's right," Kael finally said. "We'll take it back."
But then he turned to Ryssa, voice low and threatening.
"But don't try to get close to me again under the illusion of 'concern.' I don't care what you feel. I care that this planet doesn't eat us alive. Keep it professional."
Ryssa's expression didn't crack.
But her knuckles curled tight behind her back.
---
That evening, they secured the Kaiju carcass inside the storage unit of their modified dropship. The crew double-checked pressure seals, radiation barriers, and structural stabilizers.
Tyren slammed the final container lock shut and walked over to Kael, who was checking external turret feeds.
"You really know how to talk to women, you know that?" Tyren smirked, then his tone dropped. "You sure you're okay?"
Kael gave a short nod. "I'm just focused."
"You mean still pissed."
Kael didn't reply. But Tyren didn't expect him to.
---
Inside the cockpit, Ryssa sat quietly in the front co-chair, running calculations for fuel ratios and base re-entry.
Kael entered last, checking the pressure seals before sitting opposite her. The atmosphere inside was thick, not from radiation—but from everything left unsaid.
"I've already submitted our retrieval manifest to HQ," she said, keeping her voice level. "We'll land at Docking Bay 07. I marked the sample as priority Class Delta."
He nodded. "Smart."
She hesitated. "Kael—"
"I meant what I said." His eyes locked onto hers, unflinching. "Don't mistake this mission for reconciliation. You want to redeem yourself? Then survive long enough to do something that actually matters."
It wasn't anger in his voice.
It was war fatigue.
Years of betrayal had carved a h
ollow in his soul.
Ryssa swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Understood."