Night Talk on the Archangel 5

"------" Those words were like the sharpest blades of ice, piercing Murrue and Mu's hearts in an instant.

Murrue stood frozen in place, as though every word and movement had been stripped from her at once. Natarle's eyes showed not the slightest ripple, yet the deeply buried pain and disappointment within them became an invisible force that filled them with piercing anguish.

For several brief seconds, the atmosphere on the bridge returned to a suffocating silence. But this time, the silence was no longer awkward; it carried an almost soundless pressure.

"...There isn't much time left before the battle begins."

At some point, Natarle's face had completely returned to its usual severe expression, unsmiling and seamless as a steel plate.

Every line of her body, every angle, had returned to the orderliness and professionalism expected of her as the executive officer and as a soldier.

Her tone had also regained its usual steadiness and chill, without the slightest trace of personal emotion.

Using the most standard, professional wording, she gave an instruction as if it were routine official business. "Please get some proper rest."

Mu looked at Natarle's restored, ice-sculpture-like solemnity, and the helplessness in his heart deepened.

How could he not understand the complicated emotions in Natarle's words, as well as the resilient strength born of helplessness?

He knew Natarle had chosen to temporarily set aside her personal feelings for the greater good, for every life aboard the ship.

He let out a soft breath, as though responding to Natarle's rationality that rose above personal feelings, and as though reminding himself that the bigger picture was what mattered most now.

He gently patted Murrue on the shoulder and said in a lower voice than usual, one that carried a hint of comfort, "Yeah, we will... Let's go."

His eyes