Later that evening, the party had kick-started. It was held at a large cargo bay area where commander Volkov had given the go ahead to.
The cargo bay had been completely transford. What was usually a sterile space filled with supply crates and military equipnt now pulsed with colored lights and the steady thrum of bass that seed to vibrate through the station’s hull.
Kelvin had sohow managed to requisition party supplies from three different star systems, and the result was a celebration that felt more like a nightclub than a military facility.
It was almost like he’d been planning this for the better part of their ti in hell and not an idea that just happened on the spot.
Soldiers packed the makeshift dance floor, their uniforms replaced by casual clothes that made them look like the young adults they actually were instead of hardened warriors. The air was thick with laughter, conversation, and the sll of actual food—not the regulation nutrient bars they’d been living on for nearly a week.
Kelvin stood on a makeshift stage at the front of the room, his cybernetic arms catching the light as he gestured to the crowd. His natural charisma was in full effect, and every person in the room was hanging on his words.
"Before we get this party started properly," he announced, his voice carrying over the music, "I want to introduce you to sothing special. See that screen over there?"
He pointed to a large display mounted on the wall, currently showing a simple interface with a text box and a submit button.
"That’s our anonymous confession booth. No nas, no tracking, no way to trace anything back to anyone. You can say whatever you want—confess your deepest secrets, tell soone how you really feel about them, complain about the food, whatever. Just type it in and hit send."
A murmur of interest rippled through the crowd. So soldiers were already pulling out their personal devices, grinning at the possibilities.
"I’ll read so of them out later," Kelvin continued with a wicked grin. "But for now, let’s party like we’re not fighting a war tomorrow!"
The music kicked up, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Soldiers who had been carrying the weight of combat stress for weeks suddenly looked like teenagers again, laughing and dancing with an energy that had been missing for too long.
Noah found himself pulled into the crowd by Sophie, who was determined to help him relax. They weren’t great dancers, but neither of them cared. Around them, other mbers of Pathfinder Team 7 were scattered throughout the party, each finding their own way to unwind.
Lucas stood near the edge of the dance floor, nursing a drink and watching his teammates with protective eyes. Even at a party, he couldn’t completely turn off his leadership instincts. Several soldiers had approached him throughout the evening, so wanting to talk about the mission, others just wanting to be near soone who had faced down a four-horn Harbinger and lived.
Diana sat at a table with so of the other female soldiers, but her eyes kept drifting to Kelvin as he worked the room like a natural entertainer. Every ti their eyes t, she would look away quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly.
The party was in full swing when Lyra surprised everyone by stepping onto the stage. She was usually enthusiastic but still very closed that most people forgot she had other talents. But when she picked up the microphone and the first notes of an old Earth ballad started playing, her voice rang out clear and strong.
She sang with a passion that stunned the crowd into silence. Her voice carried every emotion they’d been holding back—the fear, the loss, the hope, the determination. By the ti she finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, and the applause was thunderous.
"I didn’t know she could sing like that," Sophie whispered to Noah, who was staring at his teammate with new respect.
"None of us did," Noah replied. "Makes you wonder what else we don’t know about each other."
But it was when Diana stepped onto the stage that the entire room seed to hold its breath.
She had changed out of her usual practical clothes into sothing that actually showed her figure—a simple black dress that sohow made her look both elegant and dangerous. Her Platinum blonde hair was down for once, framing her face in a way that softened her usually sharp features.
"I’m not much of a singer," she said into the microphone, her voice carrying that sa confident calm she brought to combat. "But I figured if we’re celebrating being alive, I might as well try sothing new."
The music started—a slow, haunting lody that seed to wrap around the room like smoke. When Diana began to sing, her voice was nothing like Lyra’s trained perfection. Instead, it was raw, emotional, filled with the kind of vulnerability that she never showed in combat.
She sang about loss and hope, about finding strength in darkness, about the people who stand beside you when everything falls apart. Her eyes found each mber of her team as she sang, and they could see the gratitude and affection she usually kept hidden behind her composed exterior.
The room was completely silent except for her voice. Hardened soldiers stood srized, many of them realizing for the first ti that the Ice Queen was actually a young woman who had been through hell and sohow ca out stronger.
When she finished, the applause was different from what Lyra had received. It was softer, more respectful, filled with a new kind of appreciation. Several soldiers were staring at her with expressions that made it clear they were seeing her in a completely new light.
Diana smiled—a real, genuine smile that transford her entire face—and stepped off the stage. She made her way back to her table, but now she was followed by a trail of admiring glances.
"Well," Kelvin said, retaking the microphone, "I think we need another round of anonymous confessions after that performance. Co on, people—I know so of you have things you want to say now."
The crowd laughed, and there was a noticeable surge of people accessing the confession interface on their devices.
The party continued for another hour, with more dancing, more laughter, and more of the kind of genuine human connection that had been missing during their operations. But eventually, Kelvin called for attention again.
"Alright, confession ti!" he announced, pulling up the screen that now showed dozens of anonymous ssages. "Let’s see what you beautiful, terrifying people have been thinking about."
He scrolled through the ssages, grinning as he read. "Oh, this is good stuff. Okay, let’s start with the complaints. Soone wrote: ’Pierce is a coward who should be cleaning latrines instead of commanding soldiers.’ Well, anonymous person, I hate to break it to you, but Pierce isn’t commanding anyone anymore. He’s been reassigned to ’extended leave,’ which is military speak for ’we’re never letting you near combat again.’"
The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers. Clearly, Pierce’s reputation among the rank-and-file soldiers was even worse than the officers had realized.
"Here’s another one," Kelvin continued. "’I saw Pierce hiding behind a supply crate during the evacuation briefing. A BRIEFING. Who hides during a briefing?’ Well, anonymous person, soone who’s afraid of words apparently."
More laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Oh, here’s a good one: ’Pierce’s tactical briefings were so bad that I actually got dumber listening to them. I think I lost IQ points. I want compensation.’ You know what? Fair point. I think we all deserve hazard pay for surviving his leadership."
The Pierce-bashing continued for several more ssages, each one more creative than the last. It was clear that the anonymous system had given the soldiers a chance to vent frustrations they’d been holding back.
"Alright, alright," Kelvin said, wiping tears from his eyes. "I think Pierce’s ego is thoroughly destroyed. Let’s move on to the love confessions. Oh boy, do we have so good ones."
He cleared his throat dramatically. "Here’s one: ’There’s soone on Pathfinder Team 7 who makes forget how to breathe every ti they walk into a room. If you’re reading this, I think you’re incredible and I wish I had the courage to tell you in person.’"
The crowd made appreciative noises, and several mbers of Pathfinder Team 7 looked around curiously.
"Here’s another one: ’Noah Eclipse, if you’re ever single, I volunteer as tribute. Also, can your dragon give a ride? I’m not picky about which question you answer first.’"
The crowd burst into laughter while Noah’s face turned red. Sophie tightened her arms around his neck, her expression decidedly unamused.
"Oh, there are more Noah fans," Kelvin continued with obvious delight. "’Noah Eclipse is the most badass person I’ve ever t. He rode a wyvern into battle against a four-horn Harbinger and looked good doing it. Also, he’s really handso. Just saying.’"
Sophie’s grip on Noah’s neck tightened further. "I’m starting to hate this anonymous thing," she muttered.
"Don’t worry, Sophie," Kelvin said, apparently having heard her. "You’ve got fans too. Listen to this: ’Sophie Reign, your leadership saved my life and I was this close to jumping on you fot a jig during the dical evacuation. If Noah ever sses up, I promise to treat you like the goddess you are.’"
The crowd laughed while Sophie’s expression shifted between flattered and annoyed.
"Here’s another Sophie fan: ’Sophie Reign is beautiful, talented, and way too good for any of us. Noah is the luckiest guy in the galaxy. If they ever break up, I’m shooting my shot imdiately.’"
"They’re not breaking up," Noah said loudly, earning cheers from the crowd.
"But wait," Kelvin said, holding up a hand. "We haven’t gotten to the Lucas fan club yet. Oh boy, do we have a Lucas fan club."
He scrolled through several ssages, his grin getting wider. "Listen to this: ’Lucas Grey, are you single? Asking for a friend. The friend is . I’m asking for .’"
Lucas nearly choked on his drink while the crowd erupted in laughter.
"Here’s another one: ’Lucas Grey’s leadership during the mission was incredible. He kept us all alive and looked like a hero doing it. Also, he has really nice eyes. Just wanted to put that out there.’"
"And another: ’Lucas Grey, you’re the perfect combination of brave, smart, and handso. If you need soone to help you relax after saving the galaxy, I’m available. Very available.’"
Lucas was now completely red-faced, but he was laughing along with everyone else.
"Oh, but wait," Kelvin said, his eyes lighting up as he found a particularly good one. "Here’s the best one yet: ’Diana Frost, after seeing you sing tonight, I’m pretty sure I’m in love. You’re beautiful, terrifying, and talented. If you ever want to practice your montum nullification on , I volunteer. I’ll let you stop anyti.’"
The crowd howled with laughter while Diana buried her face in her hands, though she was smiling.
"And finally," Kelvin said, scrolling to the last ssage, "here’s one for all of us: ’Pathfinder Team 7, you’re all heroes. Thank you for saving us. Thank you for being brave when we couldn’t be. Thank you for reminding us that there are still good people in the galaxy worth fighting for.’"
The laughter died down, replaced by sothing warr and more genuine. The crowd began to applaud, and this ti it wasn’t for entertainnt—it was for recognition of sothing real.
"That’s enough confessions for one night," Kelvin said, his voice carrying a note of emotion. "But I think we’ve all learned sothing important tonight. We’re not just soldiers. We’re not just warriors. We’re people. We’re friends. We’re family."
He raised his drink. "To Pathfinder Team 7. To everyone who fights beside us. To everyone who stands up when everything goes to hell. To being alive, being together, and being human."
The crowd raised their drinks in response, and the cheer that followed seed to shake the entire station.
As the party wound down, soldiers began to drift away in small groups, their spirits lifted and their bonds strengthened. They were still fighting a war, still facing impossible odds, still risking everything for a future they might not live to see.
But for one night, they had rembered what they were fighting for.
User Comments
0 comments from readers