In the pilot course building's meeting room, I hand Vindel the data disks from SBI's director's office and the recording of our exchange.
"Good work. You've proven yourself. No one can object to you leading the special ops squad now. My reputation's intact," Vindel says, satisfied.
I can't match his mood. "Saw something nasty at SBI."
"Nasty?"
"The director's sick collection. Dealt with it alongside him. It won't see the light of day."
I absorbed it with slime, but I can't tell Vindel that.
"The recording mentions Lieutenant Colonel Hans from the Far East Branch as the director's backer," I add.
"Got it. I'll report it upstairs."
"Also got this." I pull out T-LINK system documents, printed from SBI's computers.
"T-LINK system? I heard rumors of a special team with telekinetics at Izu Base. Related?" Vindel asks.
"Probably. Leaving it at SBI would've been a waste. We can use it better."
"Telekinetics are rare. Hardly anyone can use T-LINK."
I grin. "Rare, sure. But you've got one right here."
He pauses, processing. "For real?"
I nod, focusing on his pen, levitating it with telekinesis. "Proof. I hide it to avoid forced recruitment."
"Why tell me?"
"T-LINK data's too valuable to ignore."
"You want it on your machine?"
"Yeah."
Killing the director upped my kill count, but absorbing Aya didn't. Maybe it's about consciousness. We wrap up discussing Langley Base and my selected squad members.
"Congratulations, graduates. You're no longer pilot candidates but full-fledged Federation pilots. Keep what you've learned here and excel," the instructor says in our final pilot course class—a brief graduation ceremony.
After this, we head to our assignments. Mine's Langley Base, North America, for my first meeting with Shadow-Mirror's team. Data's one thing; faces are another. As predicted, the unit wasn't ready in six months. Vindel confirmed preparations two weeks ago. With graduation a month away, Shadow-Mirror's official start follows my graduation.
"Stand, salute the instructor!" As class rep, I lead the final salute, ending our candidate days.
"Time for the shuttle," I mutter.
"Leaving already?" Barison calls out.
Three years as partners, he went from general admission to top ten. A guy like him would've been great for Shadow-Mirror.
"Yeah, busy schedule."
"Stay safe… sounds weird, huh?"
"Not really. You too. Africa's got DC remnants. Don't die."
I wave to classmates, return to my dorm, and grab my few belongings—most already sent to Langley. Three years in this room stirs a bittersweet emptiness.
"Thanks for everything," I say to no one, bidding the dorm manager farewell.
"Just wait for the Langley shuttle now."
The academy's near an airport, making travel easy. At an airport café, a blonde figure enters, pauses upon seeing me, then approaches.
"Long time, Axel. Mind if I join?"
"Go ahead, Yuria. Didn't expect to see you here."
Yuria Heinkel, my childhood friend from junior academy. We split paths—me to pilot course, her to space force—losing contact save for occasional emails. Seeing her after three years feels odd. She's not just cute anymore—striking, almost masculine in her sharp elegance.
"Congrats on graduating," she says.
"You too."
Over tea and cake, we catch up. "Space for you, Yuria?"
"Yeah. You?"
"North America. Piloting at Langley Base."
"Langley, huh? Oh, sorry, didn't mean to pry."
"No worries."
We chat about school days until I check the time. "Gotta go."
"Nice seeing you. Let's grab tea again sometime."
I wave, pay for both, and leave. "Again, huh?"
If my plans hold, I likely won't see Yuria again—unless it's on a battlefield during a rebellion.
"Here's hoping there's no 'again,'" I mutter, heading to the shuttle launchpad.