“To serve my blood and secure the future of…” Cai began, but one look at Aduï told him that he’d better shut his mouth.
“Why did you REALLY join?” She asked impatiently. “I’ve heard the chant a million times. I’m asking about YOU, cadet. What drove you to be here today?”
Cai swallowed and looked around, wondering if this was a test. To see if there was some kind of other instructor hiding behind an empty seat, ready to jump out and point an accusing finger the second he said something wrong.
He was pretty sure there wasn’t, so he took a deep breath and lifted his chin.
“I wanted to join the academy to provide for my family, ma’am.” He responded, and was met with a thoughtful nod.
“That’s noble and all, Cai. But why are you in the navy, specifically? Any other academy course could’ve lifted your social standing by an equally significant amount.” She said, sitting forwards a little with her hand supporting her chin.
“You knew in advance that the navy is a pretty exclusive club. Without the right connections, people don’t tend to get long-lasting careers in this line of work.” She continued, and Cai nodded. He had indeed known that before signing up.

“Then why do you refuse to make such connections?” The captain asked with a questioning gesture. “I know how hard it is for surface dwellers to gain any kind of status in the SDA. Yet your reputation precedes you nonetheless. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but several fleet commanders have personally asked me about you.”
Cai perked his ears at these words and felt a smirk creep onto his face. For a cadet to be a point of interest to a fleet commander? That was something special. For a surface-dweller cadet to gain such fame? That was unheard of.
“By the Oracles Cai, commander-admiral Kyra even considered recruiting you for her flagship, the Ode to Ferocity.” Aduï said, highlighting one of the largest vessels in orbit around Sindrion III. There was some disappointment in her voice. After a few seconds, Cai said what the captain had left silent: “But she didn’t.”
Aduï nodded. “Indeed she did not. She most likely WOULD have gone through with the recruiting if you’d actually shown your face on any of the quarterly celebrations.”
Cai stood stunned for a second. No one had told him that a big shot admiral had been keeping an eye out for him on the feasts he always did his best to avoid.
“But… I thought coming to those celebrations wasn’t obligatory!” He said, a little louder than he’d intended. His emotions were welling up to the surface again, he only barely managed to suppress them in time.
“It’s not.” Aduï said with a sigh, shaking her head in disbelief. “But that’s only because no other cadet would even consider not attending.”
“I went to the first celebration that was hosted after I joined up. It was… disgusting.” Cai said hesitantly, vividly remembering that night, back down on Sindrion III
“So many outstanding men and women got hammered simply because they could. And they feasted for so long that some had to forcefully empty their stomach four times, only to get right back to the banquet.”
The memories of that celebration still made him feel queasy, he did his best not to remember the most striking scenes.
“They wonder why surface dwellers call us Accies decadent, then go on to hold four such parties each year. Am I really supposed to attend something like that when there’s still daily deaths of starvation, down in the labor districts?” He shook his head no and stared Aduï straight in the eyes "I refuse to do that…"
Aduï chuckled and shrugged her shoulders in an exaggerated fashion.
“Don’t preach to me about it! You think an old bird like me enjoys such depravity any more than you do?” She asked, tapping with her fingers on her chair’s armrest.
“It’s called politics, Atreuna. And politics are, simply put, an enormous pain in the ass. You’re smart by trying not to participate, but I’m afraid you have little other choice. People have to meet you in order to know you.”
“I thought you said my reputation is well-known?” Cai responded, already dreading the thought of having to attend the next feast.
“It is, but simulator results alone won’t prove that you’re a valuable asset. Just like Veriss said: Not even your fellow cadets would readily place their lives in your hands.”
Aduï smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, something Cai had rarely seen the captain do.
“They may know you. But they don’t trust you. Your bond is nowhere near close enough for that. Maybe try socializing a little more on your mission? When your lives are on the line, you’ll be glad you did so.”
Cai saw the wisdom in her words, but he scoffed nonetheless. He had some pride to uphold, after all.
“My social contact with the team isn’t THAT bad.” He said, trying to sound confident. He almost believed his own words, almost.
“Sure, sure.” Aduï said with… was that a chuckle? “Remind me again where you got your title name, Dodger?”
Cai’s shoulders slumped, he never liked to go into detail about his nickname. But Aduï already knew about it, so he might as well fess it up.
“Maxin was the one who suggested it. At first I thought it was because I didn’t get hit once in that day’s simulator training.” He felt a melancholic smile form on his face.
“Turns out he called me that because I always had an excuse to not hang out with him after studies were done. And then the name stuck.”
“All the proof I need.” Aduï said. “I know it’s easy to think that you’re singled out simply because you’re from Svartheim, but it’s more nuanced than simple discrimination.
“You know where most navy cadets come from? They are often from rich families: Bondsmen, corporations, registrators. All these groups have some tykes signing up for the SDA, even if it’s only to keep a finger in the pie. This is true for the entirety of your team as well, excepting that offworlder you seem to get along with.”
Aduï stood up again and moved to the corner of the tactical table which, at her request, dispensed a small cup of water which she took a grateful sip of.
“These kids in your team? They come from a world where your enemies smile in your face even as they’re stabbing you. Political assassinations are so rampant that they constantly keep their eyes peeled for any behavior that might signal trouble. And you, my friend, you trigger their every survival instinct with how you’re acting.” Aduï said. She finished her cup of water, and then requested another.
“Add to that that you’re also a threat to their own reputation. What do you think happens when a model child from a respected family is overshadowed by a mole three years their junior? That situation might be salvageable, but only if they can say they’re friends with you. And you’re not giving them that chance!”
“Why should I care about what some rich voidborn families think of their kids?” He asked, shrugging disinterestedly.
“Because–” Aduï hissed at him, pronouncing every syllable as if they were their own word. “–you’re stuck with them. Do you really wish to have enemies within the navy? Within your own team, even?”
“And you’re saying that I should be the one to conform to their norms?” Cai said, his voice getting a little rougher. He was starting to forget that he should be watching his words in this conversation.
“No, I’m not.” Aduï responded to him, finishing her second cup. “I’m saying that you should open up for a while first, let them get to know you. Once you’ve won their trust, you’ll be free to act like yourself.” She crumpled the thin paper of her two cups up and tossed them in a recycler chute. She turned to look at him, her eyes piercing through him again. There was something ominous in her face this time, something he couldn’t quite place. Not until she spoke again.
“From darkest depths of endless night, a Savior on blue wings takes flight. From bedrock and ice, they have been hewn, yet surpass they shall the furthest moon. Loose spirit, free from all command. When Veilbreak comes, they too will stand.”
Cai simply nodded in response. He knew the words by heart. 

Veriss had called him a prophecy chaser earlier. She wasn’t wrong. This prediction of the future had been granted to the Sindrionites by the illusive Oracle Neith. It was one of the greatest motivators planet-born miners like himself had to join the navy.
“Captain, do you really think I could be the Savior?” Cai asked hopefully, but Aduï let out a croaking laugh.
“If I said anything of the like, I’d be making the biggest mistake in my career. Least of all because it’d go straight to your head.” The old woman said. She walked towards Cai and poked him in the chest.
“I bring it up because some of your teammates might think that you are. Your abilities speak for themselves, after all. If there’s the slightest chance that you’re the one described by the prophecy, they’ll want to work together with you, if only you’ll let them.”
She nodded at her own words and turned away from him. “Right now, the only thing truly holding you back is your own attitude.”
The captain stuck her hand in the blue light of the tactical table and made an activation gesture, garnering the device’s attention.
“Go call your family. You’re way overdue. Dismissed.” She said with a voice that made clear that the conversation was over.
Cai saluted and turned around, leaving the tacticarium with a lot to think about. The sliding doors acknowledged his identification tag with a soft beep and let him through into the well-lit hallways of the RAL port. His eyes narrowed for a second, struggling to adjust to the change in brightness. There was a figure in front of him he didn’t immediately recognize.
‘Eyy! Veriss leave early, no?” Maxin said. Cai marveled at the fact that his offworlder dialect was a better way to recognize him than his physical appearance.
“Getting quality times with Cappie, ka?” He asked with a sly grin. “Fix me promotion yet? We buddies, no?”
Finally, Cai’s pupils contracted enough for him to make out the dark-skinned exo-planetary cadet he called friend. Maxin was about twenty years old and built like an athlete. His frizzy black hair was a mess that he somehow managed to still make look good and he always kept a fair amount of facial hair on his cheeks and chin in clear opposition to the navy’s guidelines. The fact that he’d never been reprimanded about it was a miracle to Cai, but then again, Maxin was friends with everyone. Something he often proudly proclaimed.
“I don’t even wanna know what you’re insinuating.” Cai sighed, but he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “She gave me some advice, nothing more.”
The two of them started walking through the oval passages that made up the bulk of the port’s inner superstructure, making their way towards the berth where their ship was currently docked.
“Advice? From ancient lady?” Maxin asked with feigned shock. “Me is all you need for that!”
Cai scoffed and went down a ladder, the sounds and smells of the docking area growing ever closer. “Right. If I ever need advice I’ll be sure to ask the guy with a speech impediment.” He teased the exo who –again– pretended to be shocked by his words.
“Cruel yous, so cruel.” He lamented, shaking his head from side to side with eyes closed. “Very sensitive, me. Also infinite puddle la wisdom.”
“I think you mean pool, Maxin.” Cai said grinning.
“Yeye, puddle! Just like I say, no?” Maxin responded. Cai wasn’t sure if the exo was messing with him or not. He always suspected that Maxin knew a lot more about the Sindrionite vocabulary than he let on, but if that was the case then the offworlder had managed to keep the act up for an incredibly long time..
They neared the RAL-port’s outer shell which housed most of the smaller warships, theirs included. Beyond the next checkpoint security would be a lot tighter than it already was. If Cai wanted to speak with his parents he’d have to do it before they got there.
“Cai, you ring kinners yet, ka?” Maxin asked, apparently thinking the same thing. “Better not be dodging them also!” 
“I was just about to, that nook there looks quiet.” Cai said, gesturing at a niche set into the wall. It had a physical network port, so Cai figured it must’ve been purpose-built for communication.
“Wait here, I won’t be long.” Cai said to Maxin, who nodded enthusiastically for some reason. He let the offworlder to his strange behavior for now and walked towards the niche, sliding his dome off his head as he did so.
He spun the small computer around and placed it into the access port set into the wall. The device connected to the RAL-port’s security systems which promptly redirected him to the communication hub. His dome’s call interface appeared on a screen in front of him and he navigated to the list of his contacts. His family address was right at the top. He sighed and prepared to make the connection when a familiar voice sounded behind him.
“So excited to meet Cai’s kinners, me.” Maxin said from less than ten centimeters behind Cai, somehow having got that close without the latter noticing.
“Woah Maxin! Anyone ever told you about privacy?” Cai yelled, recoiling from the exo’s sudden appearance. Maxin didn’t seem to notice the yelling or the sudden movement at all, only thoughtfully placing his fingers on his stubbled chin. After a few seconds he slowly shook his head no.
“Privacee? Nono. Weird names you Sindrons have. That yous sister, ka?” Maxin asked, his face perfectly straight.
“Okay, now you HAVE to be messing with me.” Cai said with an uncertain chuckle, but Maxin didn’t give the slightest indication that he was, so Cai decided to drop it.
“Well, I doubt I can get rid of you now. If you wanna be here for the call, be my guest.” Cai said, then turned back to the display. He was ready to make the connection request when his eye fell on something strange.
“Huh… I have four missed connection requests from them.” He said, gesturing at the numbered red circle above his parent’s name.
“I wonder why, they should know we won’t receive private calls unless we’re plugged into the system.” He turned to Maxin, but the exo merely raised his eyebrows to showcase his thoughts on the matter.
“Guess we’ll find out.” Cai said, and pressed the request tile.
“This might take a while. They’re often busy around this time.” Cai said as he turned to Maxin, only to be proved wrong when his mother’s face appeared on the screen no three seconds after he requested the call.
“Oh, hello mother!” Cai said in pleasant surprise, turning back to face her with a smile on his face. Her grave expression blew his smile away like snow under a fusion engine.
“What’s wrong?" He asked with rapidly growing concern. You’re not mad because I didn’t pick up earlier, are you?”
His mother hesitated, a tear rolling down her cheek, then said something that made Cai’s blood freeze in his veins.
“What do you mean Noah is missing?”