The briefing ended. The officers filed out. Admiral Hollway paused at the door and looked back at the cadets one last time.
"Welcome to the fleet," he said quietly. "I hope you survive it."
Then he was gone.
The tour continued through the afternoon—engineering sections, weapons batteries, the bridge where the *Valiant*'s captain commanded her crew with quiet efficiency. Everywhere they went, Isabella saw the same thing: competence born from necessity, repairs that would never be perfect, people who'd learned to function in a state of permanent crisis.
This was what waited at the end of Primori. Not glory. Not prestige. Just this—endless preparation for battles that would kill you regardless of how well you'd prepared.
Ruth's voice surfaced in her memory: *"The world owes you nothing,
