Juc-877 =link= -

Kael never spoke of Seven again. But sometimes, in deep night, he’d hear a faint hum from the empty engine bay—a single, perfect frequency.

The designation was simple: . No name, no history, just a barcode on a cryo-pod and a slot in the penal fleet’s ledger. juc-877

“JUC-877. Convicted: Unauthorized temporal drift. Sentence: Permanent exile aboard the Mourning Star . Additional notes: Extremely dangerous. Do not engage in conversation.” Kael never spoke of Seven again

In the end, Kael made a choice. He jettisoned the reactor core—with Seven still pressed against it. As the core tumbled into the void, the shape hesitated. It turned, almost curious, and followed her down. No name, no history, just a barcode on

The Mourning Star fell silent. The lights steadied. The teeth outside the window dissolved into ordinary stars.

It started as a low hum, then a frequency that made teeth ache. The engineers panicked. The reactor was old, but this was different—the harmonics were too perfect , as if something inside was trying to communicate.