The second departure lacked the blind, communal terror of the first.
Fourteen months ago, the entire cohort had marched onto a massive ship, heading into an absolute nightmare together. Today, the class was fractured. They were deploying to a known, documented zone, separated into isolated squads, and boarding smaller, faster vessels bound for completely different entry points.
Ashe was waiting at the docks.
She stood with her hands buried deep in her jacket pockets—her default posture whenever she had made a conscious decision to be somewhere but refused to make a performance out of it. As Vane approached, she met his eyes first. A heavy, silent acknowledgment passed between them, rendering words entirely unnecessary. Then, her crimson gaze shifted to Valerica.
Valerica paused at the base of the boarding ramp.
