Chapter 2: Training and Doubt
The Amaravarti was unlike anything Aarav had ever seen, a city among the stars that hummed with life and purpose. Its golden hull stretched endlessly, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed alive with faint, flowing energy. Ships and drones buzzed around its docking bays like insects swarming a great tree, their movements precise and synchronized.
Aarav sat stiffly in the small transport shuttle as it glided into one of the massive hangars. Around him, the Vaikuntha soldiers were silent, their postures rigid, their faces hidden behind pristine helmets. The only sound was the soft hum of the shuttle’s engines and the faint murmur of Maitreyi’s voice in his mind.
“This ship is a marvel,” she said, her tone almost approving. “A testament to the Vaikuntha’s devotion to order and balance.”
“Balance,” Aarav muttered under his breath, his arms crossed. “Sure. If you call scooping up random people to fight their war ‘balanced.’”
No one seemed to hear him—or maybe they just didn’t care. Tara Ishani stood at the head of the shuttle, her back to him, speaking softly into a comm unit on her wrist. She hadn’t spoken to him since they’d boarded, but her presence alone was enough to keep him on edge.
The shuttle landed with a gentle hiss, and the soldiers moved in unison, their boots echoing as they disembarked. Tara turned to Aarav, her sharp gaze locking onto his.
“Follow me,” she said. It wasn’t a request.
Aarav sighed but complied, shuffling down the ramp after her. His first step onto the Amaravarti’s hangar deck felt surreal. The space was vast, lit by soft golden light that gave everything an ethereal glow. Mechs stood in neat rows, their forms sleek and imposing, like silent sentinels awaiting orders. Engineers and technicians moved briskly among them, their movements precise and efficient.
Aarav felt out of place immediately.
“This way,” Tara said, leading him toward a lift at the far end of the hangar.
As they walked, Aarav couldn’t help but glance at the mechs, their designs vastly different from Vedara’s intricate, almost organic form. These machines were polished, angular, and uniform, their weapons bristling with destructive potential.
One of the engineers noticed his lingering gaze and smirked. “Never seen real war machines before, huh?”
Aarav didn’t reply, quickening his pace to keep up with Tara.
When they reached the lift, Tara pressed her palm to a glowing console, and the doors slid open silently. The two of them stepped inside, and Aarav found himself fighting the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.
“You’re nervous,” she said bluntly.
“No kidding,” Aarav replied, leaning against the wall. “I didn’t exactly plan on getting drafted into whatever this is.”
“This isn’t conscription,” Tara said. “You’re here because Vedara chose you. And if Vedara chose you, then you have a responsibility—whether you like it or not.”
Aarav snorted. “Everyone keeps saying that, like it explains anything. Do you all have some kind of rulebook for dealing with magical ancient mechs, or is this just your best guess?”
Tara’s eyes narrowed. “Vedara is no ordinary machine. It’s a relic of the Divine Era, a time when humanity walked alongside the gods and wielded their power. Do you have any idea what it means for a machine like that to awaken now, in the middle of this war?”
“Not really,” Aarav admitted. “But I’m guessing it’s bad.”
“It means the balance of the galaxy is shifting,” Tara said, her voice quiet but firm. “And you’re standing at the center of it.”
Aarav opened his mouth to argue, but the lift doors opened before he could speak. Tara stepped out, and Aarav followed, finding himself in a wide corridor that pulsed with faint blue light.
They stopped in front of a smaller door, which slid open to reveal a compact but well-equipped room. A cot was pushed against one wall, a desk and terminal against another. The far corner was dominated by a transparent wall that looked out over the hangar, offering a clear view of Vedara, which now stood tethered to the deck by glowing restraints.
“This is where you’ll stay,” Tara said. “It’s not luxurious, but it’s functional. You’ll find basic supplies in the storage compartment under the bed.”
Aarav stepped inside, glancing around. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the cramped, decaying hovels he was used to on Bhuva Lokan.
“You’ll start training tomorrow,” Tara continued. “You need to learn how to pilot Vedara properly—and fast. The Asura Dominion won’t wait for you to find your footing.”
Aarav turned to her, a flicker of frustration sparking in his chest. “I didn’t sign up for this, you know. You all keep talking about responsibility and balance like I’ve got a choice, but I didn’t ask for any of it.”
Tara’s expression softened, just slightly. “None of us asked for this war, Aarav. But we’re all in it. The only choice you have is what you’re going to do now that you’re here.”
Aarav didn’t reply, his gaze dropping to the floor. Tara lingered for a moment, then turned to leave.
“Rest while you can,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll need it.”
The door slid shut behind her, leaving Aarav alone in the quiet. He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. His eyes drifted to the transparent wall, where Vedara loomed over the hangar, its golden armor glowing faintly.
“What have I gotten myself into?” he muttered.
The Prana Sphere in Vedara’s chest pulsed softly, almost as if in answer.
The training chamber was vast and empty, its walls shimmering faintly with projected glyphs that pulsed in time with Vedara’s energy core. Aarav stood in the center, staring up at the colossal astramech that loomed over him, its golden armor reflecting the soft glow of the room’s ambient light.
It had been hours since he’d first been brought here, and the frustration was already mounting.
“So let me get this straight,” Aarav said, pacing in a tight circle. “You want me to meditate? In the middle of a war? Because that’s going to help me pilot a machine the size of a skyscraper?”
“Yes,” Maitreyi said, her tone as steady and serene as ever. She floated beside him, her shimmering form almost translucent in the chamber’s dim light. “Vedara’s power is not something that can be mastered through brute force or instinct alone. It requires harmony—between your mind, your body, and the energies that flow through the cosmos.”
Aarav stopped pacing and threw his arms up in exasperation. “You’re making it sound like I need to become a monk! I’m not exactly ‘harmony’ material.”
“Which is why we must begin,” Maitreyi replied, undeterred. “Sit.”
He glared at her for a moment before sighing heavily and dropping onto the cold floor, his legs crossed awkwardly. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
Maitreyi glided closer, her golden eyes fixed on him with calm intensity. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. “Focus on your breath. Inhale… exhale. Let go of your thoughts.”
Aarav grumbled under his breath but complied, his eyes slipping shut. The chamber was silent except for the faint hum of Vedara’s core in the distance, a low, steady rhythm that seemed to resonate through the walls.
“Feel the energy around you,” Maitreyi said, her voice soft but firm. “Vedara is not separate from you—it is an extension of your will. To master it, you must first master yourself.”
“Yeah, because I’m great at that,” Aarav muttered.
“Silence your doubt,” Maitreyi said sharply, surprising him. “It is a barrier. A shadow cast by your fear. Let it pass.”
Aarav tried to focus, but his thoughts churned restlessly. Every time he inhaled, memories crept in—the roar of battle, the chaos of the Asura attack, the feel of Vedara’s power coursing through him like a storm. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure, and the more he thought about it, the harder it was to let go.
“You’re asking the impossible,” he said finally, his voice strained. “This… power, this thing, it’s too much. How am I supposed to control something I don’t even understand?”
“That is why you must listen,” Maitreyi replied.
Aarav opened his eyes, glaring at her. “Listen to what? You keep throwing these cryptic answers at me like I’m supposed to just figure it out!”
Maitreyi regarded him in silence for a moment, her gaze unyielding. Then, without warning, the chamber around them shifted. The walls flickered, and the glyphs dissolved into darkness, replaced by a blinding expanse of light.
Aarav staggered to his feet, shielding his eyes. “What the—”
The light receded, revealing a vast, endless plain. The ground was smooth and reflective, like a mirror, stretching into infinity. Above, the sky was filled with swirling constellations and glowing celestial patterns.
“What is this?” Aarav asked, his voice trembling.
“This is the Prana Field,” Maitreyi said, her voice echoing as if carried on the wind. “The realm of energy that flows through all things. It is where Vedara’s power originates—and where you will find your answers.”
Aarav looked down at his reflection in the mirrored surface beneath him. It was distorted, rippling like water, and as he stared, the reflection began to change. Shapes formed within it—memories, scenes from his past.
He saw himself as a child, scavenging the ruins of Bhuva Lokan with his father. He saw the flash of Asura Dominion gunfire, the fires that consumed their shelter, and the cold, empty days that followed.
“You carry pain,” Maitreyi said, stepping beside him. “And anger. They weigh on you, clouding your vision.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to the club,” Aarav snapped, his voice thick with bitterness. “Everyone I’ve ever met is carrying something. Why does it matter now?”
“Because Vedara amplifies what lies within you,” Maitreyi replied. “If you allow anger and doubt to guide you, its power will reflect that—and the consequences will be devastating.”
Aarav clenched his fists, his gaze dropping to the swirling patterns beneath him. “You’re saying I’m a liability.”
“I am saying you must confront your shadows,” Maitreyi said. “Only then can you wield Vedara’s power as it was meant to be wielded.”
Before Aarav could respond, the mirrored surface beneath him rippled violently, and a shape began to rise from it. At first, it was amorphous, a mass of swirling darkness, but as it grew, it took on a form—his form.
Aarav staggered back, his breath catching in his throat. The shadow in front of him was a perfect replica, down to the smallest detail. But its eyes burned with a fierce, golden light, and its expression was twisted with fury.
“What… what is that?” Aarav asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“It is you,” Maitreyi said, her tone grave. “The part of you that you deny. Your fear. Your doubt. Your anger. It is a reflection of the chaos within you—and it will consume you if you let it.”
The shadow Aarav lunged, its movements impossibly fast. Aarav barely managed to leap out of the way, landing hard on the mirrored ground. The shadow followed, its strikes relentless, each blow sending shockwaves through the Prana Field.
“Fight back!” Maitreyi called.
“How?!” Aarav shouted, scrambling to his feet.
“Not with force,” Maitreyi said. “With focus. With clarity. Let go of your fear. Let go of your doubt. And listen.”
The shadow struck again, but this time, Aarav raised his hands instinctively. A barrier of golden light erupted around him, stopping the attack cold. Aarav’s eyes widened as he felt a surge of energy coursing through him—a connection to something vast and unending.
“Do you feel it?” Maitreyi asked, her voice steady.
Aarav nodded, his breath steadying. “It’s like… it’s everywhere. In everything.”
“It is the essence of dharma,” Maitreyi said. “The balance that binds the universe. You are not alone in this, Aarav Rishi. You are part of something greater.”
The shadow lunged again, but this time, Aarav didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, meeting the attack head-on. His barrier flared brighter, pushing the shadow back until it dissolved into the swirling patterns beneath him.
The Prana Field began to fade, the constellations and mirrored ground dissolving into the soft glow of the training chamber. Aarav stood in silence, his chest heaving, his hands still trembling with the echoes of the energy he had summoned.
Maitreyi stepped beside him, her gaze calm and approving. “You are beginning to understand,” she said.
Aarav didn’t reply. For the first time, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Not fear. Not doubt.
Control.
The tension aboard the Amaravarti was palpable. The usually serene hum of the flagship’s systems now felt sharp and urgent, pierced by the constant chatter of comms and the occasional barked order from officers. Aarav sat stiffly in the ready room, staring blankly at the small screen in front of him that displayed tactical maps of the Vaikuntha front lines.
His mind drifted as the outlines of planets and fleets blurred into meaningless patterns. It had been days since his first “lesson” with Maitreyi, but now he was being thrown into something much larger: his first real mission. A warship-sized lump had formed in his stomach, and no amount of reassurances from Tara Ishani or Maitreyi had done anything to lessen it.
The door to the ready room slid open with a soft hiss, and Tara entered, her expression steely. She crossed her arms and stood at the head of the room, the faint gleam of her crimson cloak catching the light.
“The briefing’s short, so listen carefully,” she began, addressing Aarav and a handful of Vaikuntha pilots seated around him. “The Asura Dominion is making an aggressive push into Vyoma Expanse, a series of Vaikuntha-controlled colonies vital to our supply lines. A Dominion fleet is en route to the Dhara Station—an outpost that protects one of the last habitable planets in the system.”
She tapped her wrist console, and the map on Aarav’s screen shifted to display a cluster of planets and orbital platforms.
“If Dhara Station falls, the Asura will have a straight shot to the inner sectors of our territory. We cannot allow that to happen.”
The other pilots nodded silently, their faces grim. Aarav, however, raised a tentative hand.
“Why not send your regular mechs?” he asked. “You’ve got dozens of them in the hangar. Why do you need me to get involved in this?”
Tara’s eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped a fraction. “Because the Rakshasa Armada is leading this attack.”
At the mention of the Rakshasa Armada, the room seemed to grow colder. Aarav glanced at the other pilots, noting the tension in their faces, the way some of them shifted uneasily in their seats.
“Rakshasa Armada?” he asked, frowning.
Tara nodded. “The elite fleet of the Asura Dominion, led by Ravana Nandaka himself. Their mechs are engineered for one purpose: to crush anything that stands in their way. Normal mechs won’t cut it—not against them. That’s why Vedara is critical.”
Aarav’s stomach twisted. “So you want me to go head-to-head with the galaxy’s most dangerous army because… what? You think Vedara’s invincible?”
“It’s not about invincibility,” Tara said, her tone clipped. “It’s about what Vedara represents. Its power is unmatched—and so is its potential to inspire our forces. When the Vaikuntha see Vedara in action, they’ll fight harder. When the Asura see it, they’ll falter. You’re not just a pilot, Aarav. You’re a symbol.”
“I never signed up to be a symbol,” Aarav muttered.
“None of us signed up for this war,” Tara shot back. “But we’re in it now. And if you want to survive, you’d better start acting like it.”
Aarav opened his mouth to retort, but Maitreyi’s voice cut through his thoughts, calm but firm.
“She is not wrong,” Maitreyi said, her shimmering form materializing beside him. “Vedara’s presence can tip the scales—not only in battle but in the hearts of those who fight beside you.”
Aarav sighed, slumping back in his chair. “Fine. Great. Let’s go inspire some hearts, then.”
The battle began long before they arrived.
From the cockpit of Vedara, Aarav could see the distant flashes of light as Vaikuntha and Asura ships exchanged fire in the void. The Dhara Station loomed in the distance, its sleek, circular design surrounded by defensive turrets and shield generators. The station’s weapons were blazing furiously, but it was clear they were struggling to hold the line.
“Hostiles approaching,” the Amaravarti’s comms officer reported. “Estimate four squadrons of Naraka Fighters and two Rakshasa-class assault mechs.”
“Deploy all fighters,” Tara’s voice cut in. “Prioritize shield coverage around Dhara Station. Vedara will engage the Rakshasa mechs directly.”
“Wait, what?” Aarav said, his voice cracking.
“You heard me,” Tara replied coldly. “This is why you’re here. Maitreyi will guide you.”
The Amaravarti’s hangar doors opened, and Vedara launched into the void with a single, fluid motion. Aarav gripped the controls tightly as the mech glided into the fray, the golden light of its core pulsing faintly against the black backdrop of space.
“Focus,” Maitreyi said, her voice steady in his mind. “Your connection to Vedara will guide its movements. Trust it.”
Aarav inhaled deeply, forcing his panic down. He scanned the battlefield, his heart pounding as the enemy mechs came into view. The Rakshasa-class assault mechs were enormous, their dark, jagged forms bristling with weapons. Each one moved with a predatory grace, their red eyes glowing ominously.
“Great,” Aarav muttered. “Just great.”
The first Rakshasa mech lunged, its energy cannons flaring to life. Aarav reacted instinctively, raising Vedara’s arm. A shimmering shield of golden energy erupted in front of him, absorbing the blast.
“Good,” Maitreyi said. “Now counter.”
Aarav gritted his teeth and pushed the controls forward. Vedara surged ahead, its arm transforming into a glowing blade of light. The blade connected with the enemy mech, carving through its armor in a single, precise strike. The Rakshasa mech spasmed and exploded, its shattered remains scattering into the void.
Aarav exhaled sharply, his hands trembling.
“Don’t stop,” Maitreyi urged. “There is more to come.”
She was right. The second Rakshasa mech was already moving, its weapons firing in rapid bursts. Aarav dodged clumsily, Vedara’s movements less fluid now as his nerves got the better of him. A plasma bolt grazed Vedara’s shoulder, and the cockpit flashed red with damage warnings.
“You must focus,” Maitreyi said, her tone firm. “Do not let fear guide you.”
“I’m trying!” Aarav snapped, panic creeping into his voice.
The enemy mech closed the distance, its clawed hands reaching for Vedara’s core. Aarav froze, his mind racing but his body refusing to move. The Rakshasa’s claws were inches away—
And then, in a blinding flash, Tara’s voice roared through the comms.
“Strike, now!”
Aarav gripped the controls and slammed them forward. Vedara’s core flared, and its blade lashed out, severing the Rakshasa’s arm in a single motion. Aarav followed through with a second strike, piercing the mech’s chest and detonating its power core.
The explosion lit up the battlefield, and Aarav watched as the remaining Naraka Fighters scattered, retreating into the void. The Vaikuntha forces rallied, their counterattack driving the Asura fleet back.
It was over.
Aarav slumped in his seat, his breath ragged. His hands were still trembling, but there was something else now—something unfamiliar.
Victory.
“You are learning,” Maitreyi said softly.
Aarav didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Relief? Pride? Or dread, knowing this was just the beginning?
The bridge of the Amaravarti was alive with motion and urgency. Tactical displays flickered across the massive command console, detailing the movements of Vaikuntha’s scattered fleets. Officers shouted orders, their voices cutting through the steady hum of the ship’s systems. Tara Ishani stood at the center of it all, her hands clasped tightly behind her back, her expression a mask of calm intensity.
The battle for Dhara Station had been a partial victory, but the Dominion’s fleet had regrouped faster than expected. Now, the Vyoma Expanse was on the verge of collapse, with reinforcements from Ravana’s Rakshasa Armada barreling toward the vulnerable Vaikuntha colonies.
Aarav sat stiffly in Vedara’s cockpit, his heart pounding as he listened to the comm chatter. The golden light of the mech’s core pulsed faintly, casting soft patterns across the interface, but even that calming glow couldn’t steady his nerves.
He had tasted victory, yes—but it had left a bitter aftertaste. The fight had been too close, too chaotic. The power he had wielded still felt foreign and volatile, like a sword that might cut him as easily as it did his enemies.
“This isn’t going to work,” he muttered under his breath, his hands hovering over the controls.
“You underestimate yourself,” Maitreyi said, her voice soft but firm.
“I’m not underestimating anything,” Aarav shot back. “I barely made it out of that last fight alive. I’m not ready for this, and you know it.”
Before Maitreyi could respond, Tara’s voice came through the comms, sharp and commanding.
“Vedara, prepare for deployment. Enemy forces are en route to intercept our supply convoy at Jyesta Station. You’ll be leading the strike team to break their advance.”
Aarav stiffened. “Wait—leading? As in… me? Alone?”
“You’ll have support from the Vajrastra Squadron,” Tara replied. “But Vedara is the key. Without it, this mission will fail.”
Aarav opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. There was no point. Tara didn’t seem like the type to change her mind once she’d made a decision.
He exhaled slowly, gripping the controls tightly as the Amaravarti’s hangar doors opened, revealing the sprawling void beyond. The Vajrastra Squadron—sleek, lightning-fast Vaikuntha mechs—launched first, their thrusters leaving trails of light in the darkness. Vedara followed, its massive frame gliding smoothly into formation.
As they approached Jyesta Station, Aarav’s scanner lit up with warning signals. The Dominion fleet was already there, a swarm of Naraka Fighters and Rakshasa assault mechs moving to intercept the convoy.
“Hostile forces inbound,” the comm officer reported. “Naraka formation advancing at high speed.”
“Vajrastra Squadron, engage the fighters,” Tara ordered. “Vedara, focus on the Rakshasa mechs. You’ll need to hold the line until the convoy reaches the station.”
Aarav swallowed hard, his hands slick with sweat as he adjusted Vedara’s trajectory. The first wave of Naraka Fighters streaked past, their plasma cannons lighting up the void. The Vajrastra mechs moved to intercept, their movements precise and deadly, but the sheer number of enemy units was overwhelming.
Then came the Rakshasa mechs.
There were three of them, their jagged, black-and-red frames cutting through the chaos like predators honing in on their prey. They moved with eerie coordination, their weapons glowing with destructive energy.
“They’re targeting the convoy,” Maitreyi said. “You must intercept them.”
“Right,” Aarav muttered. “Sure. Easy.”
He pushed the controls forward, and Vedara surged ahead, its golden core flaring to life. The first Rakshasa mech lunged toward a transport ship, but Aarav intercepted it, driving Vedara’s energy blade into its shoulder. Sparks and debris erupted as the enemy mech staggered back, its cannon firing wildly into the void.
“Not bad,” Aarav said to himself, a flicker of confidence returning.
The second Rakshasa mech was faster. It darted past Vedara, its plasma cannons ripping through one of the convoy’s defensive turrets. Aarav spun Vedara around, the energy blade sweeping through the void, but the enemy was already out of reach.
“They’re outpacing me,” he muttered, frustration bubbling in his chest.
“Stay calm,” Maitreyi said. “Your focus is your strength. Do not let them dictate your actions.”
But calm was hard to find. Aarav’s heart pounded as the third Rakshasa mech joined the fray, its massive frame barreling toward the lead transport. Aarav hesitated, torn between chasing the second mech and intercepting the third.
“Vedara, engage now!” Tara’s voice snapped through the comms.
“I’m trying!” Aarav shouted, his hands fumbling with the controls.
The hesitation was all the enemy needed. The second Rakshasa mech fired a concentrated plasma burst, piercing the convoy’s lead ship. The transport exploded in a blinding flash, sending debris scattering across the battlefield.
Aarav froze, the shock of the explosion washing over him like a tidal wave. His scanner was screaming warnings, his comms filled with the desperate cries of the convoy’s crew.
“What… what just happened?” he whispered, his voice hollow.
“You hesitated,” Maitreyi said quietly.
The third Rakshasa mech took advantage of the chaos, its claws tearing through another transport. Aarav moved to intercept, but his strikes were clumsy, his movements sluggish. The enemy was faster, more coordinated.
“Vedara, focus!” Tara’s voice cut through the comms, but Aarav barely heard her.
He tried to strike again, but his blade missed its mark. The enemy mech retaliated, its plasma cannons scorching Vedara’s shoulder. The impact sent Aarav reeling in the cockpit, his hands slipping from the controls.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered, his voice trembling.
“Yes, you can,” Maitreyi said, her tone firm but not unkind. “But only if you let go of your fear. You must trust the bond.”
“I don’t even know what that means!” Aarav shouted, his frustration boiling over.
Another explosion lit up the void as a third transport was destroyed. The convoy was in disarray, their formation broken, their defenses crumbling. Aarav could feel the weight of their failure pressing down on him, suffocating him.
When the last Rakshasa mech retreated, its mission complete, the battlefield fell silent.
The convoy was in ruins.
Aarav sat motionless in Vedara’s cockpit, his hands shaking, his mind blank. The Vajrastra Squadron regrouped, their formation tight but subdued. The Amaravarti’s comms officer reported the grim toll—three transports lost, countless lives gone.
Tara’s voice came through the comms, cold and sharp. “Return to the ship. Now.”
Aarav swallowed hard, his throat dry. He guided Vedara back toward the Amaravarti, the mech’s movements slower, heavier, as if it shared his shame.
Maitreyi said nothing.
Neither did Aarav.
The Amaravarti’s hangar was eerily quiet when Aarav returned. Normally, the hum of activity filled the massive space—mechanics barking orders, engineers scrambling to repair damaged mechs, pilots exchanging hurried debriefs—but now, there was only silence.
Vedara’s massive frame came to rest on its platform, its golden glow subdued as its systems powered down. Aarav sat in the cockpit for a moment longer, reluctant to leave the safety of its confines. His fingers gripped the controls tightly, knuckles white, as he stared blankly at the wall of the hangar.
The memory of the explosions replayed in his mind, over and over. The blinding flashes, the screams on the comms, the silence that followed.
“Aarav.”
Maitreyi’s voice was gentle but firm. He didn’t respond.
“Aarav Rishi,” she said again, more insistent. “You must step out.”
He exhaled shakily and finally released the controls, his hands trembling as he climbed out of the cockpit. His boots hit the hangar floor with a hollow clang, and he glanced around, half-expecting someone to confront him. No one did. The hangar crews avoided his gaze, their eyes fixed on their tasks.
Tara Ishani was waiting. She stood with her arms crossed, her sharp features set in a mask of disappointment. When Aarav approached, she didn’t say a word, just stared at him with a look that made his stomach twist.
“I—” he started, but she cut him off.
“Not here,” she said curtly. “Debriefing. Now.”
She turned sharply and strode toward the exit, leaving Aarav no choice but to follow.
The debriefing room was cold and sterile, its walls lined with monitors displaying tactical readouts and battle footage. Tara stood at the head of the room, her posture rigid, her gaze fixed on the floor as if she were restraining herself. Aarav stood awkwardly in the center, his arms crossed, his eyes darting nervously between her and the screens.
“You lost three transports,” Tara said finally, her voice low and steady.
“I know,” Aarav muttered.
“Do you?” she snapped, her tone sharp now. “Do you understand what that means? Hundreds of lives lost. Supply lines severed. A critical mission failed. All because you hesitated.”
Aarav flinched but said nothing.
“Vedara isn’t a toy,” Tara continued, her voice rising. “It’s not just some weapon you can swing around blindly. It’s the most powerful tool we have, and it chose you. If you can’t handle that responsibility, say so now. Because if you hesitate like that again, more people will die.”
The words hit Aarav like a physical blow, and he clenched his fists, his head lowering. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”
“Meaning doesn’t matter,” Tara interrupted, her voice cold. “Results do.”
A tense silence hung in the room. Aarav stared at the floor, his mind a storm of shame and anger—at himself, at Tara, at the entire situation.
Finally, Tara let out a frustrated sigh and gestured to the door. “Get out of here. Take the night to think about whether you belong here. Dismissed.”
Aarav hesitated, then turned and walked out without another word.
He found himself in one of the observation decks, the vast expanse of space stretching out before him through the reinforced glass. Stars dotted the void like scattered embers, their distant light cold and indifferent. Aarav leaned against the railing, his head bowed, his breath shaky.
“Rough day?”
The voice was light but familiar. Aarav looked up to see Tara Ishani, leaning casually against the railing beside him. Not Tara the Commander, but Tara Ishani the pilot, her crimson cloak swapped for a simple flight jacket. Her expression was softer now, though still tinged with weariness.
“Rough day doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Aarav muttered, turning back to the stars.
Tara nodded, folding her arms. “It happens to all of us. The first time, at least.”
Aarav glanced at her, surprised. “You’ve… failed a mission?”
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “More than I’d like to admit. When I was fresh out of the academy, I lost my entire squadron because I froze during a battle. Thought I could make up for it by pushing harder the next time. Instead, I got another team killed.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Aarav stared at her, unsure of what to say.
“I learned the hard way that hesitation doesn’t just cost lives—it costs trust,” she continued. “The trust of the people who depend on you, and the trust you have in yourself.”
“So what did you do?” Aarav asked quietly.
Tara shrugged. “I kept going. Not because I wanted to. Because I had to. You don’t get to stop when people are counting on you.”
Aarav nodded slowly, her words sinking in. “I don’t know if I can do that,” he admitted.
“You can,” a new voice said.
Aarav turned to see Aryan Das, the Vaikuntha engineer, stepping into the observation deck. His coat was streaked with grease, and his hair stuck out at odd angles, but his face was warm and kind. He held a data tablet under one arm.
“You wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t,” Aryan said, walking up to the railing. “Vedara wouldn’t have chosen you if you didn’t have what it takes.”
“I keep hearing that,” Aarav muttered, shaking his head. “But what if it’s wrong? What if I’m wrong?”
Aryan placed the tablet on the railing and tapped its screen. The image of Vedara appeared, its golden frame glowing faintly.
“Do you know what this is?” Aryan asked.
Aarav frowned. “Vedara. Obviously.”
“It’s balance,” Aryan said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Creation. Preservation. Destruction. All in one. But it’s also vulnerable. If its pilot falters, it falters. If its pilot hesitates, it hesitates. Vedara reflects you, Aarav. And if you can’t trust yourself, it won’t trust you either.”
Aarav stared at the image, the weight of Aryan’s words pressing down on him.
“So what do I do?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
Aryan smiled faintly. “You learn. You fail. And you try again. That’s all anyone can do.”
Tara placed a hand on Aarav’s shoulder, her grip firm but reassuring. “You’re not in this alone,” she said. “We’ll get you there. But you have to meet us halfway.”
Aarav nodded slowly, his resolve beginning to harden. He didn’t know if he was ready, but for the first time, he wanted to be.