USS Khitomer – “No talk. Just air and gravity.”

Debrief Room // USS Khitomer

The air carries the scent of coolant and the last cup of coffee gone cold. Monitors hum softly, cataloguing the mission in real time.

Rian and Milo sit across from each other, posture disciplined, faces drawn with the afterglow of exhaustion. The captain’s debrief filters through static: mission complete, beacon recovered, good work.

They nod, file out.

In the corridor, the ship’s pulse sounds almost human—low and steady, like a heartbeat returning to normal. Neither speaks; both know silence is the only language that fits the descent from adrenaline.

Rian glances over. Milo catches it, returns a faint smile, then brushes three fingers against his sleeve. Their shorthand.

Not now. Protect the space.

Rian’s reply is a slow nod. Understanding passes between them like current through wire—efficient, invisible, sure.

Rian: “Holodeck?”

Milo: “No talk. Just air and gravity.”

They step into the chamber. The simulation unfolds into a muted shoreline—gray morning light, soft wind, the slow draw of tide over sand.

They don’t stand together, not quite. Enough distance for breathing, enough nearness for presence. The surf’s rhythm steadies their pulse, and the quiet turns companionable.

No debrief, no translation of feeling into words. Just decompression.

When they leave, the door seals with a hush, and both sense it: the connection held because they didn’t test it.

Care, for them, has learned the shape of restraint.

WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.