Chapter 6: Graveyard Rhai

  Rhai Torren wasn’t what I expected.

  She was Helion Vanguard, I suppose—just like me now.

  But that label felt foreign to me. Alien, even. Like I didn’t belong here or deserve it. Like I wasn’t worthy to even be in Rhai’s presence, let alone stand beside her as an equal.

  It felt like someone had made a clerical error—that any second now, I’d be recalled back to Earth. The rug being pulled. My right to be on this ship revoked. Like this whole thing—this assignment, this unit, this potential future—was a sorry mistake.

  And worse… that I might deserve to lose it all.

  The thoughts came quietly at first—when I was lying on the floor of that gym, just after Zeth left. It started as a whisper, an afterthought. Then they grew louder. More insistent to be heard over the others:

  Should I leave? Should I be here?

  What if they send me back?

  What if I’m not good enough?

  What if this was never meant to be mine?

  My head was spinning with physical exhaustion, thoughts tangled in intricate layers as I lay there on the cold gym floor reflecting.

  On one hand, the idea of leaving the Resolute filled me with a strange sense of longing—mostly for my friends back at the Academy. For more laughter in the Crawl. For a bed that didn’t smell like recycled air and disinfectant. For structure. Familiarity. And some sense of safety.

  But on the other hand, layered beneath that flicker of comfort was something else. Something heavier and deeper. A sickening, descending dread. Not just fear. It was the kind of dread that seeps into your bones when the door to a life—the one you barely just touched—starts to slam closed in front of your eyes.

  Stripped to its fundamentals—and in every way I could measure it—going back to the Academy now felt like an undoing. Like walking backward into a past I’d already fought to escape. Every step would be a crooked, hesitant surrender. Back into the shadows of who I used to be. Away from the future I was starting—finally—to reach for, and claim with both battered and bloodied hands.

  And in that moment, I decided.

  Even if that future meant sweat, grit, and blood—I wasn’t letting go.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  Even to just spite her.

  To show Zeth the length of my resolve.

  How deep my determination went into the water.

  To prove I wasn’t a failure.

  That I have what it takes to stand beside them and be an asset.

  No matter what we were heading towards in the near future.

  Because deep down, I knew. My path was not behind me.

  It was somewhere out there—among the stars.

  Even through the bruises, and the lingering ache in my ribs, the soreness clinging to every motion—I could feel: I was aware of that quiet, unstoppable draw. The kinetic pull towards the unknown and into the void. A gravitational attraction toward The Reach, and whatever was beyond. All held in perfect tension against the push of the Earth behind me.

  But Rhai? She wasn’t guessing anymore.

  She looked the part.

  She’d been aboard the Resolute for over six months. She’d survived Zeth’s training long before I arrived. Her regular training, mind you—before the formation of this new tactical unit. Before Zeth’s new selection regime, and its endeavour to forge a crucible of absolute testing—systematic, ruthless, and precise. The kind carefully designed to dismantle or reassembled you, piece by bloody piece. Reconstructing any soul bold—or stupid enough enough—to cross its cursed threshold.

  And apparently, a test now built for me…

  For routine operations, Rhai ran Tactical Analysis on Gamma Shift now. Everyone called her Graveyard Rhai. Not because she was grim or quiet—but because she never missed a beat, even at 0300 every morning. And maybe also because she had a reputation for putting people in the ground when it really counted.

  Apparently, working night watch with her meant nothing ever slipped through. She had a reputation for seeing things before they happened. Almost spookily so.

  Rumour was she once stopped a hydraulic injector breach five seconds before the alarm went off, saving five crew.

  Another officer later mentioned she once broke up a bar fight at the Vanguard barracks on Earth—five drunk crew, all armed with bottles, twice her size. She didn’t raise her voice. Just stepped in and levelled them, one by one, with surgical precision. Had them restrained before the alert even triggered.

  Whether true or not, no one questioned her instinct. Apparently, it was legendary.

  To be honest, I’d expected her to be intense. Cold. The kind of seasoned officer who spoke in tactical briefs, always correcting junior crew mid-breath and impatiently.

  But I was wrong. Rhai wasn’t cold. She was fire—burning low and steady. A raging forge.

  She looked like she could crush skulls with her bare hands and then make you soup afterward. A paradox of violence and comfort, danger and sanctuary.

  Like a Viking—born three millennia too late to smash the skulls of Anglo-Saxons upon the British Isles.

  But she came with absolute loyalty, and a genuine heart of gold.

  It was right after that training session with Zeth that I met her properly for the first time.

  The moment I stepped outside, I nearly collapsed.

  My legs barely remembered how to work. I’d only made it halfway down the corridor on Deck 6 staggering, before my stomach gave out. Doubling over behind a storage crate, I dry-heaved until I felt like my ribs might split even further than they had already.

  The air out here in the corridor was cold—sharply so—but it now felt good against skin that had been torn and stitched back together by sheer will alone. My knuckles burned, raw and swollen, from hundreds of failed guard attempts, and just as many hard landings.

  My legs shook like misfired servos. I was drenched—more sweat than uniform now. Dangerously dehydrated. I felt like a husk, never so completely emptied by a sparing session.

  I managed a few more steps before the dizziness hit again—sudden and heavy. I staggered, then slumped down against the nearest storage crate, waiting for the corridor to stop spinning and for my stomach to settle.

  The corridor lights flickered dimly, casting long shadows down the empty stretch of hallway.

  My vision was blurred. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating seeing the movement—until I heard her voice.

  Not Zeth’s. Not some barked command from a passing officer.

  It was a voice, low. Dry. Almost amused.

  In a rich British accent.

  "Looks like you had a fun time, Ensign!"

  I looked up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My fingers were trembling badly. My system was crashing from the lack of sugar and electrolytes—legs threatening to crumple beneath me, like a collapsing stack of cards again.

  She was standing a few feet away from me, half in shadow, arms crossed—shoulder leaning against the wall.

  And smiling.

  It was Lieutenant Rhai Torren.

  She appeared like she’d been waiting all along—maybe she had, watching Zeth leave earlier?

  Her presence wasn’t sudden—it was almost inevitable. Like gravity. She knew the deal here, and somehow, exactly what I needed.

  Without ceremony, she held out a bottle of electrolytes and a protein cube.

  "You're the new blood," she said, settling onto the crate like she owned the corridor. Her voice was rough, but warm and welcoming. Lived in.

  “Varr, right? The next one Zeth is folding in half? You looked like you were having fun in Medbay yesterday, right at home.” She smirked kindly.

  I nodded looking her, then stared down at her hands almost in disbelief—blinking at the bottle blue liquid before cautiously taking it.

  My hands trembled. Cold sweat clung to my skin like another layer of shame.

  “Thanks,” I barely managed to say, as I was trying to unscrew the cap with far more difficultly than I wanted her—or anyone—to ever see.

  But she didn’t say anything right away.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  She just watched. Calmly.

  Not judging, not pitying—just being there. Like someone who knew exactly how much a person could break and still come back from it fighting.

  Like she knew exactly what I just went through. And that it was all ok.

  I sipped deeply quenching my thirst. The blue liquid stung going down—it was too cold, too sweet—but it helped immensely. The protein cube tasted like dirt mixed with cardboard, but I forced it down anyway. Fuel was fuel, and my body desperately need it in that moment. I could feel my head clearing almost immediately, stomach settling.

  “Thank you Rhai, I seriously needed that.” She nodded slightly at me with a grin, as if satisfied I wasn’t about to keel over and needed to be carried to Medbay again.

  Her eyes brightened. “For Zeth, that was the warm welcome,” she joked, jerking her chin back toward the gym door.

  Then she looked at me properly—really looked.

  And for the first time, I saw kindness in her blue eyes.

  A quiet sort. But well earned.

  “Honestly, Varr,” she said, her voice dipping with something close to respect and consultation. “You must’ve done pretty damn well just to still be upright after that session.”

  She gave a short laugh—not mocking, more like muscle memory.

  With a fluid motion that echoed Zeth’s own brutal grace, Rhai eased herself onto the storage crate beside me. Just from the way she moved—controlled, grounded—I could tell they’d been training together for a long time. It wasn't unsettling to me, just eerily familiar.

  “Zeth is no joke. And making it through four hours? That’s some serious shit. Kudos to you. The last bunch of recruits, they didn’t make it past thirty-minutes before they’re either out cold or throwing up into the bulkhead! They all quit, or were fired on the spot.”

  Turing towards me more now, her eyes lingered on me for a moment.

  “She doesn’t go that hard, or keeps continuing with you, unless she sees something worth forging.”

  She leaned back slightly, stretching out a leg and smiling.

  “First few weeks with her—even before this new regime—I looked just like you. Could barely walk straight. Thought she was trying to kill me! Was ridiculous!”.

  She laughed then, soft and short. Not mocking—more like she was reliving it.

  The memory had weight, but also warmth.

  I liked her. She gave me something I hadn’t expected. A flicker of comfort. Of solidarity. Like maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.

  But then I looked at her, and was very unsure if I believed half of what she was saying.

  She didn’t look breakable. Not even close.

  She was built like a warrior—just like Zeth—but where Zeth was coiled menace and scaled precision, Rhai was something else entirely. Broad shoulders yes. The scared-threaded knuckles were inspired.

  But those eyes—ice blue and unwavering—were unmistakably human. Softer. Kinder. Still, they were carved from something harder than most. Some would say, just like mine.

  She caught the questioning and exasperated look I was giving her as I was thinking this, and smirked.

  “What, you think I crawled out of the womb looking like this?” She said, almost exasperated with a raised eyebrow.

  “Wouldn’t be surprised,” I said with a half-smile, still catching my breath.

  But to be perfectly honest, just looking at her… I couldn’t see how it wasn’t possible.

  She was tall, probably my height, built like someone who didn’t ask for permission before taking their head off. Her white hair was short and coarse, shaved close on one side, the rest falling in messy, practical tufts. A pale scar ran across her upper lip, just off-centre, and a notch through her left eyebrow looked like something had singed it away—burned or broken, hard to say. Her uniform sleeves were rolled to the elbow, exposing thick forearms etched with history. Some scars were surgical. Others were jagged and chaotic.

  She wore strength like it was genetically engineered. Effortless, and genuine.

  I’d seen cadets with gym-built muscles try to flex unwelcomed authority. But Rhai didn’t have to try. Strength lived in her posture, her silence, her eyes. It was in the way she sat—like a soldier, like a threat. But a kind one at that.

  All in all, she looked like a Viking warrior reborn in orbit—sturdy, fearless, carved from something hard-earned.

  Compared to her, I probably looked like a paper doll that had stumbled into a knife fight. Fresh out of the Academy, bruised and underfed, with arms like twigs and a posture that still screamed rookie. I was strong for my age, sure—but next to her, I felt like scaffolding waiting to be built into something real.

  She radiated confidence—not just physical strength, but a kind of calm, brutal readiness. She looked like someone who had walked through fire more than once and chose to stay in the flames. There was a subtle stillness to her presence. The kind that didn’t need to assert dominance—because it was already there and understood.

  Her ice blue eyes were kind. Disarmingly kind.

  And in that moment, she was just who I needed.

  "She did similar things to me in training," Rhai said casually, tearing into a ration bar with her teeth. "Only difference is, I puked during the session. You waited until after. That’s seriously worth something, Varr! Well done!"

  I let out a weak laugh. It hurt. Everything hurt. I think she was joking, but it still felt good to laugh—like my body needed the reminder that I was alive.

  "You’re still here," she added. "That puts you ahead of every single recruit we’ve had lately. Most don’t even make it to the second session now. You did. That’s seriously impressive."

  There was no judgment or sarcasm in her voice. No mockery. Just recognition. She wasn’t patronizing me. Wasn’t looking at me like a burden or a problem to fix.

  Just... seeing me. For whom I was, battered or not.

  I looked over at her, unsure of what to say. I was still terrified. But for the first time since the Academy, I didn’t feel like I was being measured against every standard I felt that I’d never meet.

  She wasn’t testing me.

  She was just here for me.

  And that made all the difference.

  Then, the question suddenly rose to the surface of my mind, cresting and unbidden—impossible to ignore.

  "Rhai… If Zeth is like this... why’d you stay?"

  Her eyes widened. She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted toward the bulkhead, where the soft flicker of a status panel lit her face in shifting blue.

  For a while, I thought she wouldn’t respond at all. But then she did:

  "Because Zeth’s training kept me alive."

  She said it plainly. No dramatics. No weight added. But it hit like stone.

  "I’ve seen real combat, Varr. Not drills. Not sparring matches. Real engagements. Black-flag operations. Border incursions that never made it into the official reports of the Helion Commonwealth. Things they would never want to admit. Places where Fold Arrays cut out and phasers failed, and no one back home ever heard about what we found."

  Her eyes didn’t leave mine.

  "When the shields fail and the evac window closes—when every system in your arsenal goes dark—the only thing left between you and death is your own damn body. Your reflexes. Your instincts. Your will to crawl one more inch and get back up. And from what I’ve heard about this new mission… that’s exactly the kind of person they’re looking for."

  She turned to me again.

  “Must be why she picked you. Honestly—you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something. So keep that chin up. Other side of this, you might just surprise yourself with something.”

  She took a slow bite of her ration bar. And swallowed.

  “Zeth trains for that—not parades, not performance reviews. That stuff’s bollocks to her. She doesn’t care how it feels. Only that it works”.

  I gazed at her intently, ears attuning to everything I was hearing.

  I hated her for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

  She let out a dry laugh, and to my surprise, it made me smile.

  "But she’s the reason I came back in one piece. The reason I’m still breathing. And to be honest, that’s why I’m still here Varr. That’s why."

  The she paused. She looked at me carefully, her eyes narrowing, just a flicker of concern behind them. Probably for me. For us.

  “Something’s coming,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what exactly. But she’s training us for it. All three of us.”

  She shrugged eyes softening, the movement casual—like she was used to this kind of uncertainty.

  “And pain? That’s just the first step apparently.”

  She paused again now, eyes narrowing slightly towards me. Like she was gauging whether I could handle the next part.

  “I used to ask myself every night why I kept showing up to those earlier sessions,” she said. “Why I let myself be torn apart. And then one day, I figured it out.”

  Her voice dropped, steady and quiet.

  “You stop showing up, someone else dies. That’s what this training is for. It’s not about you. It’s about the ones you protect when everything falls apart.”

  She looked at me then, really looked—like she was seeing whether I got the sentiment, the ideals.

  “That’s the burden we carry. That’s the cost. And it’s what it means to be Vanguard. We’re not here to shine. We’re here to stand where others fall. Right at the edge. To stop another bloody Viren War from happening before it ever begins.”

  I nodded, slowly. Her words echoed in the hollow pit of my stomach, ringing louder than my doubts.

  "She’s building something here," I said. "A team. A unit."

  She looked at me sideways. There was a glint in her eye. Sharp. Knowing. The glint of someone who had once asked the same question. Had the same doubts.

  "Not just a small team. A blade Varr," she said. “Zeth’s sharpening us for something. I don’t know exactly what yet. Me and Eli have not been briefed. Just following her new training regime between us. Her and the captains’ orders. Vanguard and Commonwealth orders, big stuff. And she’s not wasting time on people who aren’t going to survive it."

  Turning to me. "Really. she must see something in you Varr as, in all honesty, her new training regime would have broken me when I was in your shoes."

  She stood, stretching slightly. Even her movement was controlled, deliberate. Every motion had muscle memory behind it. Her bones moved like they'd been forged under pressure—exactly like Zeth's.

  She paced a few feet away, then turned back.

  "You’ll be angry for a while. That’s fine. Let it fuel you—it did for me. But don’t let it rot you out. If you survive this, you’ll understand what she’s doing. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not in a year. But one day, you’ll thank her for not showing you a single mercy."

  I looked at her dumbfounded.

  In that moment, I found it impossible to believe her. I was indeed starting to hate Zeth. But deep down, I was genuinely listening—really wishing she would be correct. Sooner rather than later

  “Stay safe, Varr. And get some proper food in you,” she said, pushing off the crate. “I’ve got to run, I’m meant to still be on duty. Catch you later, hopefully for a pint. You could probably use one!”

  And with that, she was gone.

  I opened my mouth to ask her something else, but she was already walking away.

  Her footsteps were light but deliberate. Not loud, but not apologetic either. She walked like someone with purpose—like someone who knew just how heavy the universe could get.

  Rhai Torren was a presence that arrived like a storm, dropped hope, warmth, and clarity like a hammer—and vanished into the next moment.

  And exactly what I needed.

  But something occurred to me then—it was subtle, buried deep beneath her words.

  There was a weight behind her eyes. In the sharp blue edge of them, something she wasn’t saying. A feeling. A truth she was still carrying alone. I didn’t press. Not then.

  I sat for a while in the quiet hallway, alone—letting the silence of it all work through me. I felt so much calmer now.

  The protein cube had tasted like compressed chalk.

  The drink was now lukewarm.

  But my hands and legs had stopped shaking.

  And something else steadied inside me too. A sense I hadn’t expected to feel that day.

  I could count on Graveyard Rhai.

  I felt it in my bones.

  I feel like letting you know.

  How much I love you today.

  I feel like letting it show.

  Showing you rightly now.

  Then never going away, hey-yeah-yeah.

  I know you're feeling real low.

  Calling on all my.

  I wanna make it okay.

  I want to show you I know.

  And it will be all fine.

  I wanna take it away.

  Take it away.

  I thought I'd write you this song.

  Maybe I'd make you smile.

  And take your sadness away.

  Hey.

  I wanna show you I love.

  Love, love you a long time, girl.

  I'm never going away.

  Hey-hey, yeah-yeah.