A sharp knock knock echoed through the quiet room.

I groaned, dragging myself out of bed. My body still felt heavy, like the dream had left a weight pressed into my chest. Perin lifted his head lazily from the corner, yawning wide before curling back into his fur.

I opened the door.

Shivani stood there — the same sharp uniform, her hair tied back, eyes alert even in the early light. The dome’s morning glow reflected faintly off her armor, giving her an almost ethereal outline.

“Good morning, Arin,” she said with a small nod. “How was your night?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Not bad… just a little—”
She raised an eyebrow. “You look stressed.”

“Yeah, well, bad pillows,” I said, forcing a smirk.

For a second — just a second — she smiled. The faintest one I’d seen since meeting her.
Then she straightened again, all soldier. “Get freshened up. You’re coming with me to the General’s office.”

“The General?” I asked, blinking. “Why? Did I do something?”

She crossed her arms. “No. You’re going to do something.”

“Huh?”

“A job,” she said, stepping aside to let the light fall across the hallway.

“A… job?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she said, smirking slightly at my confusion. “You need to start paying your rent, remember? Nobody here lives for free — not even strangers who fall out of nowhere.”

I sighed. “You really have a way with words.”

“I try,” she said flatly, though her eyes glimmered with amusement.

She started to turn, then paused. “Be at the General’s office within the hour. Don’t make me send a patrol to fetch you.”

I saluted mockingly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just… don’t be late, Arin. I’ll be waiting there.”

The door hissed shut behind her, leaving the faint scent of Astra energy and dust in the air.

I exhaled slowly, leaning against the wall.
A job, huh?

The word felt strange — normal — in a world like this.

Perin padded over, climbing up onto the desk beside me. He tilted his head, giving a short chirp.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said, scratching his ear. “We’ll go. Maybe working for the military’s safer than whatever that dream was.”

Perin blinked, unimpressed.

I looked toward the window — the city beyond glowing in soft morning blue. It looked calm, peaceful… but after last night, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Alright, buddy,” I muttered, standing up. “Let’s see what kind of trouble we’re walking into this time.”

 The General’s office smelled of metal polish and old paper—authority wrapped in quiet. The room itself was modest: a wide desk, a wall of data-screens, and a row of plaques that caught the dome’s blue glow and threw it back like tiny watchful eyes.

I stepped in, Perin padded quietly at my feet where Shivani had left him, and the General looked up from a slate. She didn’t rise. She didn’t need to. Her gaze did the work of a hundred questions.

“You’re five minutes late,” she said flatly. No welcome. No softness. Just the finality of a clock.

“Sorry,” I said, hands up. “Traffic? Dragons?” I tried for a joke—half a grimace, half a grin.

A single, almost amused twitch at the corner of her mouth. “This is the General, not a comedy club. Roll the file.”

A mechanized drawer hissed open. Shivani stepped forward and slid a paper cylinder along the desk toward me—an analog form in a city that loved everything glowing. I took it, fingers oddly clumsy. The General watched.

“Choose carefully,” she said. “This isn’t a game.”

I unrolled the file. A list blinked to life across the page: Astra Maintenance Corps, Logistics & Supply, Civil Engineering, Security Patrol, Medical Reserve, Military Exploration Unit (MEU), Reclamation Teams. Each one had a short—almost clinical—description. The MEU entry pulsed faintly in my vision for reasons I couldn’t explain: Field reconnaissance and boundary operations. High mobility. High risk. Exactly the opposite of an office.

My throat was dry. “MEU,” I said before thinking too much.

Shivani’s eyes flashed. “Bold,” she murmured.                             

The General tapped a key. “Noted. We’ll register you under MEU pending basic clearance. You’ll be assigned a handler. One warning: MEU isn’t for spectators. You’ll be in the field, exposed to hazards.” Her voice softened fractionally—just enough to be dangerous. “Are you sure?”

I met her stare. “Yes.”

She nodded once. “Then we’ll make it official.”

A junior officer stepped forward, polite to the point of nervousness. He placed a palm on a glowing register pad and began pulling up data. The room hummed as biotech scanned the rolled file and cross-referenced me against archived records. Shivani stood beside me like a shield: the quiet proof that I hadn’t simply fallen from the sky alone.

“You understand the obligations,” the officer said, eyes flicking between me and the General.

“Understood,” I said.

He printed a slim card—cold crystal, edged with a blue light—and pressed it toward me. “Temporary clearance: field access level one. Valid until the assignment is confirmed. You’ll report at 1400 for orientation.”

The General rose then, moving with the slow grace of someone used to being obeyed. From a rack behind her she pulled a coat—simple, utility-cut, woven with pale fibers threaded through with Astra filaments that shimmered when the room light struck them. It fit like armor for a civilian: functional, durable, not pretty.

“This is your MEU coat,” she said as she handed it over. The badge on the sleeve matched the symbol I’d seen on the gate—the spiral sun. “Wear it when you’re on duty. Keep it clean. Don’t lose it.”

I slipped the coat on. The fabric settled against my shoulders. There was weight to it—a reminder of expectation. The officer attached a small access pin beside the collar; it clicked into place with a soft chime.

“You have rights,” the officer added, quick as a reflex. “You also have responsibilities. Follow orders. Stay within protocols. And whatever you do—do not interfere with public cycles.”

The General’s eyes were harder than before. “We will see how you perform, Arin. If you survive MEU, you’ll earn more than rent. Fail, and you’ll find out why the dome looks so pretty from the outside.”

I swallowed. Perin nudged my hand and licked my palm, unbothered by the talk of danger. Around us, soldiers who’d watched the registration drifted back to their posts. The city hummed on, indifferent.

Shivani gave me a brief, soldierly nod. “Report at the south hangar in one hour. That’s your handler’s pickup point. Don’t be late.”

“Right,” I said, fingers tightening once on the coat. It felt like the start of something—useful, terrifying, real.

We left the office. The door closed with a soft, final sound—another minor ritual in a city that kept score in chimes and protocol.

Outside, the plaza sparkled. People moved in their practiced rhythms. I was suddenly part of a roster—no longer nameless, but not free either. The coat felt heavy on my shoulders in more ways than one.

After receiving the coat, Arin headed across the plaza toward the M.E.U. Headquarters — a large silver-steel facility built like a fortress, with holographic insignias flickering above the entrance. Perin padded silently alongside him, earning a few curious stares but no comments.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately — darker, more serious. Soldiers moved with precision, their boots striking the metal floors in crisp rhythm. Unlike the public sector outside, this place felt alive with tension… and danger.

As he stepped further in, a woman approached, her steps confident and sharp. She wore a darker version of the MEU coat — black streaks down the sleeves denoting rank. Her expression was calm but unreadable.

“So,” she said, stopping in front of him, “you’re the new temporary addition to the Exploration Unit.”

Arin straightened. “Uh… yes. That’s what they told me.”

She nodded once. “I am Commander Aisha Varin — 4th Unit Commando assigned here for cross-unit supervision. I’ll be overseeing your assessment phase.”

Her tone made it clear: this was not a warm welcome — this was a challenge.

He instinctively added, “Yes, madam.”

Aisha didn’t smile. She gave a short hand gesture and a nearby soldier saluted, then sprinted off down a corridor.

“I just sent orders to the mission desk,” she continued, folding her arms behind her back. “You will begin preliminary survival conditioning starting today. If you are to operate outside city boundaries… you must survive outside city boundaries.”

“Outside world?” Arin muttered under his breath. “That’s literally where I came from…”

She gave him a brief sideways glance — not amused, but slightly curious.

“Shivani mentioned your performance,” Aisha said. “Defeated three unit soldiers during the incident. Assisted in resisting an external strike. Impressive, if not accidental.”

Arin scratched his cheek casually. “They were kind of asking for it.”

Aisha stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Power is meaningless without control. We don’t care how strong you might be — only whether you can obey, endure, and execute under pressure.”

She turned her back on him and walked toward a large, cleared combat zone within the headquarters — a dome-shaped arena with reinforced glass walls.

“Let me see if your reputation is anything more than luck,” she said.

A faint smile touched Arin’s lips. “So… this is a test?”

Aisha looked over her shoulder, eyes sharp. “No. This is me deciding whether you’ll live past your first mission.”

Perin growled approvingly, hopping off Arin’s shoulder and stretching like he sensed fun incoming.

Arin rotated his shoulders, stepping into the arena.

“Alright then,” he said quietly. “Let’s see what ‘training’ looks like here.”