A new life

The dream was vivid—a vast field of alien fauna, a striking mixture of purple and grey that shimmered under twin suns. Samuel knelt, brushing his fingers against the "Purple Garners," their texture eerily reminiscent of lavender from Earth.

"Similar to Earth, but not quite," he muttered, taking in the surreal beauty. Above, sleek ships soared through the planet's atmosphere, their engines humming in harmony with the serene landscape.

"Captain," a familiar voice called from behind him.

Samuel turned, smiling as he saw Harold approaching. "Harold, weren't you supposed to be in charge of the gate?"

Harold didn't respond. Instead, his expression shifted, and his grip on Samuel's shoulder tightened.

"WAKE UP!"

GASP!

Samuel jolted awake, his heart pounding as reality came rushing back.

"...A dream," he muttered, running a hand over his face. The memories of Harold and the others lingered like shadows, bittersweet and haunting. He glanced at the clock beside his bed. 8:15 AM.

The room was modest but comfortable, a sharp contrast to the barracks he'd grown accustomed to. This was it. The day he would finally be discharged.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the neatly folded uniform that lay across a chair. The insignia of the Spear of Defiance was still there, a stark reminder of everything he'd endured.

Samuel sighed, standing and stretching. "I guess it's time to start... whatever comes next."

Samuel stood in front of the mirror, pulling on a simple t-shirt and hoodie. It felt strange to wear something so casual after years of uniforms and combat gear. He gave himself a once-over before nodding. "Normal, huh? Let's see how this fits."

He headed down the stairs, each step creaking faintly under his weight, until he reached the living room. The place was modest, cozy—bare walls with a few personal touches, a small couch, and a coffee table. Natural light spilled through the windows, illuminating the polished wooden floor.

He paused, running his hand along the back of the couch, then brushing his fingers against the windowsill.

"...I guess this is a first," he murmured. A bitter smile crossed his face. "Back then, I barely even had a house… maybe a shelter, to be more precise."

The memories of a time before the war flashed briefly—cold nights, rationed meals, and the ever-present uncertainty of survival. He sighed, letting the thoughts fade as he turned back toward the center of the room.

"AH, SIR! GOOD TO SEE YOU THIS MORNING!"

Samuel flinched slightly at the cheerful voice, turning to see a humanoid robot approaching. Its sleek, polished frame moved with a surprising grace for something so mechanical.

"Good morning, Botan," Samuel said, shaking his head at the robot's enthusiasm.

"Is my breakfast ready?"

The robot clasped its metallic hands together with a small flourish. "But of course, sir! As you specified: a baked onion with eggs and ham, accompanied by herbal Gulan tea—sourced directly from the Chales system."

Samuel chuckled softly, walking toward the dining area. "You always remember the details, don't you?"

"Precision is my function, sir!" Botan replied proudly, stepping aside to reveal the neatly set table.

The aroma of the meal wafted toward Samuel as he sat down. The tea's earthy fragrance brought a sense of calm, and the sight of the plate made his stomach growl. He picked up a fork, cutting into the baked onion.

As he chewed, he let his gaze wander. Outside the window, the world seemed so quiet. The war, the chaos, the endless missions—it all felt like another life entirely.

"Botan," he said between bites, "remind me to check on the garden later. I might as well do something useful today."

The robot nodded, its optical sensors blinking. "Understood, sir. Will you be needing assistance with any other tasks today?"

Samuel thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not today. I think I just need to get used to all this... normalcy."

He leaned back, sipping the herbal tea. The warmth spread through him, and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to relax. The stillness was unnerving, but perhaps, just perhaps, he could learn to live with it.

Samuel set his cup down, the faint clink echoing in the quiet room. He stared out the window, his mind wandering to the emptiness that had settled into his life.

(So... what now?)

For so long, his purpose had been clear—missions to lead, orders to follow, battles to endure. Now, the silence felt suffocating. He clenched his jaw, his fingers drumming on the table as a thought solidified in his mind.

"Botan," he called out, his voice firm.

The robot, who had been busy tidying the corner of the living room, turned to him with a quick swivel of its torso. "YES, SIR! ANYTHING YOU REQUIRE!" it chirped in its cheerful robotic tone.

Samuel stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of a nearby chair. "Drive me to the Memorial."

The robot tilted its head slightly, its optical sensors flickering as if processing the command. "TO PAY RESPECTS, SIR?"

He nodded, slipping his arms into the jacket. "Yeah. It's long overdue."

"UNDERSTOOD, SIR," Botan replied, rolling toward the door. "THE VEHICLE WILL BE READY IN TWO MINUTES."

Samuel took a deep breath, bracing himself for the visit. He had avoided it for weeks, unsure if he was ready to face the weight of all those memories. But now, it felt like the only thing he had to do.

He stepped outside, the crisp morning air biting at his skin. The vehicle—a sleek, low-hovering transport painted in a muted gray—hummed quietly as Botan opened the door for him.

As Samuel climbed inside and fastened the harness, he glanced at the dashboard where a small Federation emblem still gleamed faintly. The insignia brought a pang of nostalgia.

"Ready when you are," he muttered.

Botan nodded from the driver's seat. "DESTINATION: THE FALLEN MEMORIAL. ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: SEVEN MINUTES."

The vehicle lifted smoothly off the ground, gliding forward as the engine's hum grew into a soft whirl. Samuel leaned back, his gaze fixed on the passing horizon, 

The vehicle smoothly maneuvered through the streams of moving traffic, gliding effortlessly past rows of sleek hovercrafts. Above, the towering skyscrapers stretched endlessly into the sky, their surfaces shimmering in the pale light. Unlike the crowded chaos Samuel had expected, the city felt organized, with buildings spaced apart just enough to allow for free-flowing air traffic.

Samuel rested his chin on his hand, his gaze drifting over the architectural marvels. "Botan," he began, his tone curious, "how have they managed the living situation here? These skyscrapers can't house everyone."

Botan's head swiveled slightly, its cheerful voice chiming in. "EXCELLENT QUESTION, SIR! THE GOVERNMENT HAS IMPLEMENTED ADVANCED UNDERGROUND FACILITIES TO ACCOMMODATE THE EVER-INCREASING POPULATION."

Samuel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Underground? How deep are we talking?"

"VERY DEEP, SIR," Botan replied with an almost proud tone. "MULTI-LAYERED SUBTERRANEAN STRUCTURES SPANNING MILES BENEATH THE SURFACE. THEY INCLUDE RESIDENTIAL AREAS, COMMERCIAL HUBS, AND EVEN RECREATIONAL SECTORS. THESE FACILITIES ARE DESIGNED TO FUNCTION INDEPENDENTLY, WITH THEIR OWN ENVIRONMENTAL AND ENERGY SYSTEMS."

Samuel nodded, impressed. "Efficient. Though I imagine living underground isn't easy for everyone."

"YOU ARE CORRECT, SIR. WHILE MANY APPRECIATE THE SAFETY AND STABILITY, SOME STILL PREFER LIFE ABOVE GROUND. THAT IS WHY THESE SKYSCRAPERS REMAIN, TO PROVIDE CHOICES FOR DIFFERENT LIFESTYLES."

He leaned back in his seat, letting the information sink in. "Seems like they've thought of everything," he murmured, half to himself.

The vehicle continued its steady journey, weaving between the glimmering towers as the Memorial came into view—a massive, solemn structure that seemed to stretch into the heavens, a stark contrast to the bustling city around it.

Botan's voice interrupted his thoughts. "WE ARE APPROACHING THE FALLEN MEMORIAL, SIR. PREPARING FOR LANDING."

Samuel's chest tightened as the transport slowed, descending toward the somber monument that awaited him.

Samuel stepped out of the vehicle, the faint hum of the transport fading into silence as he planted his boots on the solid ground. He took a deep breath, the crisp, almost sterile air of the city mingling with a faint floral scent carried by the breeze.

"I guess it's time," he muttered under his breath, steeling himself.

Ahead of him stretched a brick-paved road, lined with towering arches etched with the names of the fallen. It was a road built for remembrance, where every step carried the weight of sacrifice. The grand structure of the Memorial loomed at the end of the path, its polished black stone reflecting the muted sunlight.

Botan followed close behind, its metal feet clinking softly against the bricks. Samuel ran his hand along the engraved names on the nearest arch as he walked, his fingers tracing the grooves like they carried the memories of his comrades.

"This place... it has a feeling of Old Earth," Samuel said, his voice quiet, almost reverent.

Botan chimed in, its tone slightly subdued in response to the atmosphere. "CORRECT, SIR. THE DESIGN WAS INSPIRED BY MEMORIALS FROM EARTH'S HISTORIC WARS—A TIME WHEN EARTH WAS A DIVIDED PLANET."

Samuel gave a slow nod, his eyes scanning the carefully manicured surroundings. Rows of flags, each representing a federation, waved solemnly in the light breeze. Statues of soldiers stood at intervals, their expressions stoic, their forms locked in moments of valor.

"I guess even in unity, the cost of peace stays the same," he said, more to himself than to Botan.

They continued their walk toward the central monument. Samuel's steps grew heavier with each passing moment, the memories of his lost comrades pressing on his shoulders like an invisible weight.

"…I'm here, mates," Samuel whispered, his voice barely carrying over the silence of the Memorial.

He stood before the great expanse of engraved stones, each name carved into eternity. His eyes scanned the countless etchings, stopping on the ones he knew all too well.

"Nathan… Elisa… Garret… Lin…"

He moved down the line, his voice catching as he read name after name.

"Rogan… Malory… Evander…"

And then, his gaze fell upon the two names that felt like daggers to his chest.

"Nobu… Harold."

Samuel's lips trembled, but no words escaped. His throat tightened, and he clenched his fists as he stepped closer, raising a hand to touch the cold, smooth surface of the stone.

"I'm sorry…"

The words were almost a whisper, a quiet plea carried on the wind.

Tears he hadn't shed in years welled up in his eyes, spilling over without restraint. They fell, unbidden and unrelenting, like a tide that could no longer be held back. Sadness, frustration, and guilt poured out of him, overwhelming and raw.

His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his forehead pressing against the memorial stone. For a long moment, he simply wept, letting out the emotions he had kept buried beneath layers of duty and survival.

Botan stood behind him, silent, its normally cheerful demeanor subdued as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

The air around the Memorial seemed heavier, as though it, too, mourned with him. The names etched in stone stood as a testament to those who had given everything, and Samuel could feel the weight of their sacrifice pressing down on him.

"…I'll carry it," he whispered hoarsely. "I'll carry all of you with me. Always."

Botan observed quietly, its mechanical mind struggling to grasp the depth of the moment. It was designed to assist, to serve, but could it truly understand what unfolded before it? Could it even begin to emulate the emotions it saw in its master. He then Noticed a women approaching 

Noticing her, Botan spoke up, its tone polite yet firm. "YES, GOOD MAM. WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE HERE?"

The woman, dressed in black mourning attire, stepped closer. Her expression was calm, but there was a weight behind her gaze.

"Are you Captain Samuel Hatten?" she asked softly, her voice carrying both curiosity and hesitation.

Botan's tone grew more protective. "MAM, IF YOU MUST, PLEASE PROCEED TO—"

Samuel raised a hand, cutting the robot off. "It's alright, Botan." He wiped at his tear-streaked face and straightened, turning to the woman. "Yes, I'm Captain Samuel Hatten."

The woman hesitated for a moment before bowing her head slightly. "My name is Miko Hazwa."

Samuel froze, the name hitting him like a sudden gust of wind. He turned to face her fully, but his eyes fell to the ground.

"I guess you knew my brother… Nobu Hazwa," she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray the grief she still carried.

Samuel clenched his jaw, unable to meet her gaze. "I did," he said quietly.

Miko stepped closer. "Can we talk?"

He finally looked up, meeting her eyes. There was something familiar in them—a fire he had seen in Nobu. He nodded after a long pause. "…Sure."

---

They sat on a bench nearby, the Memorial standing solemnly behind them. The air was still, heavy with unspoken words.

"Nobu spoke of you in his letters," Miko began, breaking the silence. "He always said you were more than just a commander to him. He looked up to you, trusted you."

Samuel's hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening. "He was a damn good soldier," he said, his voice steady but laced with pain. "Better than I deserved in my squad. I should've done more…"

Miko shook her head firmly. "You can't blame yourself for what happened. Nobu made his choices. He knew the risks, and he never once regretted serving under you. He told me as much in his last letter."

Samuel's breath hitched at her words. "His last letter…?"

Miko reached into her bag and pulled out a small envelope, worn with time. She handed it to him carefully. "He wrote this before the final mission. I think he wanted me to give it to you if something happened to him."

Samuel stared at the envelope in her hands, hesitant. His fingers trembled as he took it, the weight of it far heavier than it seemed.

"I'll leave you to read it," Miko said, standing. "But please… don't carry his death as a burden. Carry it as a reminder of the lives he believed were worth fighting for."

She turned and walked away, leaving Samuel alone with the letter. Botan remained silent beside him, its glowing eyes flickering faintly as it processed the exchange.

Samuel held the letter in his hands, staring at it as if it might burn him. Finally, with a shaky breath, he opened it and began to read

-----

The handwriting was unmistakably Nobu's, strong and deliberate.

"Captain," it began.

"If you're reading this, it means I didn't make it. I won't waste words apologizing for that—it was my duty, and I accepted it. What I want you to know is that you made me a better soldier. More than that, you showed me what it means to fight for something bigger than myself."

The words blurred as Samuel's eyes filled with tears again. He blinked them away, forcing himself to keep reading.

"You once told us that being a leader means carrying the weight of those we lose. But don't let that weight crush you. Use it. Remember us, but don't let us hold you back. Live, Captain. Live for all of us who couldn't."

Samuel's chest tightened as he reached the final line.

"Thank you… for everything. Nobu."

The letter fell to his lap as he stared blankly ahead, Nobu's words echoing in his mind.

"Live," he whispered to himself. His fists clenched, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. For the first time in years, he felt the faintest flicker of something he thought he'd lost: hope.

He stood, folding the letter carefully and placing it in his jacket.

"Botan," he said, his voice steadier now.

"YES, SIR?" the robot replied.

"Let's go home."

Botan followed him back to the vehicle, its sensors noting the subtle change in Samuel's posture. He walked taller now, the weight on his shoulders just a little lighter.

As Samuel was about to step into the vehicle, he heard hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning, he saw Miko returning, her expression serious yet thoughtful.

"Also, Mr. Samuel," she called out, her voice softer now.

Samuel paused and turned fully toward her, his brow furrowed. "Yes, ma'am? Is there anything else you need?"

Miko hesitated for a moment, as if considering her words carefully. Then she spoke. "I think you should visit someone."

Samuel tilted his head, confused. "Someone?"

Miko nodded. "While I was here earlier, I noticed a teenage girl near the memorial. She was standing in the same spot you were, looking at the same stones."

Samuel's gaze sharpened slightly. "The same stones…"

"Yes," Miko continued, her voice tinged with emotion. "I overheard her mention Harold's name. I didn't approach her, but… the way she looked, the way she carried herself—it reminded me of someone searching for answers, just like me."

Samuel's throat tightened at the mention of Harold, but he kept his composure. "Do you know who she is?"

Miko shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'd guess she's Harold's sister. She seemed young, maybe sixteen or seventeen. You should talk to her, Captain. She might need to hear from someone who knew Harold the way you did."

Samuel remained silent for a moment, his mind racing. He hadn't expected this. "...Thank you, Miko. I'll keep an eye out for her."

Miko gave him a faint smile. "You're a good man, Captain Hatten. I think you'll do the right thing."

Samuel nodded, watching as Miko turned and walked away, leaving him with more to think about. He leaned against the vehicle for a moment, gripping Nobu's pendant tightly in his hand.

"Botan," he said finally, his tone resolute.

"YES, SIR?" the robot chirped, awaiting orders.

"Stay on standby. I need a moment."

Samuel returned to the memorial, scanning the area for any sign of the girl Miko had mentioned. His heart was heavy yet steady, driven by a newfound purpose.

He didn't find her that day, but he resolved to return. If she was Harold's sister, he owed it to Harold—and to her—to make sure she wasn't left searching for answers in the silence of the memorial stones.