Niri sat alone at a curved table tucked near the edge of the eastern plaza. A faint breeze slid through the air vents above, stirring a row of synthetic foliage, but it did nothing to help the taste of the ration sitting on her tray. The food was purple, faintly bitter, and somewhere between foam and paste in texture. She poked at it without much enthusiasm.
"At least it's not worms," she muttered.
The plaza was full now—students milling about, most of them loud in their own languages. Voices layered over one another, carried by a mix of species, clicks, tones, and synth-translators. Niri kept her gaze low, trying to eat and stay invisible.
"Excuse me," a voice said from just above.
Niri looked up.
Two students stood in front of her—one tall and avian, with grey and silver feathering layered neatly along her arms and neck. The other looked strikingly familiar in physiology. His species matched Lu'Ka's, though his frame was leaner, sharper, and his posture practically dripped with comfort and confidence.
"Do you mind if we sit?" the avian asked. "Every other table's full."
The male smirked. "And your expression says you're either deep in thought or just in desperate need of better food."
Niri gestured to the empty seats without expression. "It's a public bench. I'm not staking a claim."
The two sat. The avian gave a slight nod of thanks. "I'm Qiri. This is Ronan."
"Niri," she replied simply.
Ronan leaned back, one leg casually crossing the other. "New student?"
"You could say that."
"We didn't see you at orientation," Qiri said, her voice smooth and evenly modulated.
"You didn't miss much," Ronan added. "Unless you enjoy watching ten administrators compete over who can be the most boring in front of an audience."
"You ate three plates of synthbread," Qiri remarked.
"Protest eating," Ronan said with a grin.
Niri took another bite of her meal, grimaced, and gave up halfway through chewing. She washed it down with a bland fluid from the tray and glanced between them.
"You two always invade strangers' lunch tables?"
"Only the lonely-looking ones with terrible food choices," Ronan said.
Qiri's feathers rustled slightly as she smiled. "We usually sit near the east wing. It's quieter. But the crowd pushed us here today."
Niri didn't respond immediately. She chewed, watched them quietly, then said, "Well, you've got the best seat now. Congratulations."
Ronan raised his cup. "To destiny, then."
---
They ate without speaking for a few minutes. The silence wasn't awkward—it just was. Niri appreciated that. There was no performance, no interrogation, just three students chewing on subpar food with the Academy humming around them.
"So," Ronan said eventually, "what track are you on? Please don't say 'Experimental Philosophy of Void-based Beings.' I can't handle another peer paper on metaphysical entropy."
"Diplomacy, War Analysis, Advanced Math," Niri said. "Among others."
Qiri looked impressed. "Professor Rhiv?"
"Yeah."
"He's demanding," Qiri said. "But fair, if you keep up."
Ronan leaned forward. "And Drel for math?"
"Unfortunately."
Ronan made a dramatic face. "May the void grant you mercy."
Niri snorted. "I don't think it will."
"Survive your first week," Ronan said. "Then the real suffering starts."
---
She hesitated, then said, "Any of you good at logic systems?"
Ronan shook his head immediately. "I once submitted a math proof so convoluted it crashed the grading AI. Drel called me 'a danger to structured thinking.'"
"I study cultural systems," Qiri offered. "Math's not my domain, I'm afraid."
Niri nodded. "So that's a no."
"There are peer networks," Qiri said gently. "Support hubs for new cadets. We can help you find one."
Ronan tapped his chest. "I volunteer my moral support. If you need someone to dramatically fail alongside, I'm your guy."
Niri raised a brow. "I'll take that under advisement."
---
A group of Grounx students thundered past—large, armored, their voices low and growling. Their boots clunked loudly on the stone. Everyone at the table shifted slightly. Qiri's feathers twitched.
"Why do they always move in a pack?" Qiri muttered.
"Because their brain cells unionized and decided one at a time wasn't safe," Ronan said.
Qiri let out a soft exhale. Niri smirked.
"They bother you?" Niri asked.
"Only when they're bored," Qiri said. "Which is daily."
"One of them once tried to argue that conquest was their cultural right," Ronan added. "He lost the debate and tried to punch the podium."
"Did he miss?" Niri asked.
"He broke his own thumb."
She chuckled softly. Just for a second.
These two weren't like the rest.
And that made them easier to be around.
Not safe. But easier.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
"For what?" Qiri asked.
"For sitting here."
Ronan raised his cup again. "To unfortunate seating arrangements."
Niri clinked hers gently in reply.
Maybe not all company had to be a burden.
---
They sat a while longer, mostly quiet, picking at what remained of their food.
Then Niri leaned forward slightly, elbows on the edge of the table. Her voice was casual, but something tighter pressed behind it.
"Either of you get the Lu'Ka assignment?"
Qiri nodded. "The thought essay? Yeah. Haven't touched it yet."
Ronan rolled his eyes. "What would you do if a Gateborn was among us? Please. That's not an assignment, it's a setup."
Niri tilted her head. "How so?"
"You answer too seriously, you sound paranoid," Ronan said. "You answer too softly, you sound naive. The whole thing's loaded. Like he wants us to reveal how we'd react to something we all think is fiction."
"It is fiction," Qiri said gently.
Ronan shrugged. "Sure. Probably. Still smells like bait."
Niri didn't respond immediately. Her gaze drifted toward the edge of the plaza.
"What'd you write?" she asked Qiri.
Qiri shook her head. "Didn't. I've been thinking about it. But honestly, it's hard to take it seriously. No offense. I know the myths are important to some cultures, but..."
"They don't belong here," Ronan finished for her. "Gateborn are the stuff of first-cycle bedtime stories. They build cities in black holes and disappear in bursts of light. I'm not writing an essay about fairy tales."
Niri gave a faint, unreadable smile.
"Fair enough," she murmured.
She didn't add that the fairy tale was sitting right in front of them, chewing purple paste and pretending not to exist.
Instead, she changed the subject.
"What's the next lecture on your path?"
Before either of them answered, Ronan's gaze dropped.
"Is your gravity belt... malfunctioning?"
Niri glanced down. The control node was set to a heavier pressure than most species used. She hadn't even thought to check it. It was just what felt right. Familiar.
Qiri leaned slightly to see. "That's a Tier-3 pull setting," she said, surprised. "That's way above standard for your frame."
Ronan frowned. "No offense, but how are you not face-first in the tiles right now?"
Niri shrugged. "Feels normal."
Qiri blinked. "That's not normal for anyone your size."
Ronan raised an eyebrow, studying her more closely. "Either you're secretly made of alloy, or you're walking around with enough gravity drag to dislocate a Grounx's knee."
She took another bite of her food like it didn't matter. "Guess I'm just weird."
Qiri leaned forward slightly. "What happens if you lower it? Or turn it off?"
Niri didn't hesitate. "I can't walk."
That stopped both of them.
Ronan straightened. "Seriously?"
She nodded. "It feels... wrong. Like I'm about to float away."
Qiri blinked, her feathers settling close. "That's not a response I've heard before."
Niri looked away, brushing it off with another bite. "Like I said. Weird."
Ronan chuckled. "You know, most people complain about walking too much. You're over here defying orbital pull just to sit at a table."
Qiri added with a faint smile, "You might be the only student here who's accidentally training for high-G combat without realizing it."
Niri rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Great," she said. "Let me know when I'm qualified to carry ships on my back."
Ronan raised his cup again. "To gravity and the girl who thinks it's optional."
Qiri shook her head lightly. "I don't even want to imagine that kind of pull," she said casually, her tone somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
This time, Niri laughed—just once, soft and under her breath. But real.
Qiri leaned in a little, her voice still light but edged with curiosity. "So where exactly are you from, Niri? I've never seen your species classification before."
Niri paused mid-bite.
Then she gave the faintest shrug. "Refugee status. Drift origin. It's all on the file."
Qiri raised a brow. "That file looked stitched together."
"Because it is," Niri said calmly. "The records were... patched. Systems don't always log the long drifters properly."
Ronan didn't press. Qiri gave a thoughtful nod.
"Rough travel," she said.
Niri nodded once. "Something like that."
As the plaza began to quiet, Ronan stood and stretched. "Alright, I have one more lesson to pretend I understand."
Qiri stood as well, brushing off her robes. "We usually grab something from the back kitchens after cycle-light dim. It's less crowded. If you're still upright by then, you're welcome to join us."
Niri raised an eyebrow. "Late-night dinner?"
"More like survival rations with slightly better lighting," Ronan said.
"But better company," Qiri added, smiling.
They didn't wait for a response. Just a wave, then they turned and walked off, blending into the flow of students heading toward the next lecture block.
Niri watched them go.
She didn't say it aloud—but she was pretty sure they liked her.
And that, for once, didn't feel like a warning.
Qiri didn't laugh. She just kept watching, thoughtful.
Ronan leaned back again, but something behind his expression had shifted—just a sliver. Not suspicion. But curiosity..