Ethan stepped down the ship's exit ramp, the familiar hiss of pressurized air releasing as he emerged from the ship's docking bay. The transition from the dim, metallic interior of his vessel to the open, bustling city of Valeris was almost jarring. Sunlight, from the planet's two suns, bathed the streets in a golden glow, illuminating the repaired infrastructure and the civilians moving about with a sense of ease that hadn't been there months ago.
For the first time in a long while, Valeris felt... alive.
Gone were the days of hushed conversations and fear-laced glances. The omnipresent tension that had once gripped the city, when the Black Sun Syndicate's shadow loomed over every street, had lifted. People moved freely now, merchants called out their wares without fear of extortion, and the distant hum of patrol drones was no longer a symbol of oppression, but of security.
Ethan adjusted his jacket and started down the street toward Nara's Nest, his usual cantina.
He barely made it past the first few stalls when a merchant, an older Rellian with smooth, deep-blue skin and three luminous eyes, stepped forward. The shopkeeper held up a small metallic pendant, etched with intricate alien script that shimmered faintly in the light.
"You're Ethan Walker, aren't you?" the Rellian asked, his voice carrying the guttural yet melodic tones of his species.
Ethan hesitated before nodding.
The Rellian smiled, pressing the trinket into Ethan's hand. "Take it. No charge. You're one of the reasons we're still here."
Ethan turned the pendant over in his palm. It was a simple thing, a piece of local craftsmanship, but the weight of the gesture carried far more meaning. He gave the shopkeeper a small nod of thanks before tucking it into his jacket pocket and moving on.
As he continued down the street, Ethan passed a squad of Federation Guards patrolling the district. Their armor, once dulled and battered from months of conflict, had been repaired and polished, their unit insignias now clearly visible. The lead officer, a burly Kynaran with tusked features, stopped mid-step, his gaze locking onto Ethan.
For a brief moment, Ethan expected the usual mercenary treatment. Wary glances, perhaps even suspicion. After all, he wasn't officially part of the Federation Guard, even though he happened to fight alongside them for a while.
Instead, the officer straightened his stance and gave him a crisp salute.
Ethan blinked. "I'm not-"
"You don't have to be," the officer interrupted, lowering his arm. "Respect where it's due."
Ethan gave him a slow nod before continuing down the street, the weight in his chest growing heavier. He hadn't fought for medals or recognition, just survival of this planet. But seeing the change, the way people moved through these streets without fear, made him realize just how much the battle had truly been for them.
As he neared the cantina, a group of children—two human, one furry Lorskian, and a reptilian Velkran, were playing along the edge of the sidewalk, their game involving a mix of thrown data chips and simulated holo-shields.
One of the human kids nudged the Velkran, whispering excitedly. "That's him! That's the mercenary my dad said helped save Kynara!"
The Velkran, his emerald-hued scales catching the sunlight, turned wide, fascinated eyes toward Ethan. "No way."
"It is! I saw his face on the broadcasts!"
Ethan smirked slightly as he passed them, pretending not to overhear. The Lorskian child, fur bristling in excitement, suddenly called out, "Hey, mister! Are you really that Ethan?"
He paused, looking at them over his shoulder. "Depends. What did that Ethan do?"
The kids exchanged glances before the human boy blurted, "Took down a whole Syndicate base! Fought off three warlords! Saved a Resistance leader!"
The Kinshar nodded vigorously. "And.. oh! blew up a Syndicate desert beast!"
Ethan chuckled. "Did I?"
The Lorskian grinned, baring small, sharp teeth. "Yeah! You're famous!"
Ethan crouched slightly, meeting their wide-eyed stares. "Here's a tip," he said, lowering his voice like he was letting them in on a secret. "It wasn't just me. A lot of good people made this happen."
The Velkran's eyes gleamed with wonder. "Still… you were there."
Ethan exhaled softly before straightening. "Yeah. I was."
As he turned to walk away, he heard the excited murmurs behind him continue.
Maybe this was what victory actually looked like.
Finally reaching the entrance of Nara's Nest, Ethan exhaled, shaking off the mix of emotions weighing on him. The building was a sturdy, newly renovated structure, its neon sign flickering slightly but still operational. The familiar scent of roasted meats, alien spices, and something unmistakably fried wafted through the air, making his stomach growl in anticipation.
It had been a long time since he had been here. Too long.
The moment Ethan stepped through the doors of Nara's Nest, a wave of warmth, both literal and figurative, washed over him. The cantina's interior was as lively as ever, the air thick with the scent of sizzling meats, spiced brews, and the faint tang of Kynaran incense burning in the corner. Dim neon strips lined the edges of the ceiling, casting a soft amber glow over the patrons crowded around circular holo-tables, some deep in conversation, others watching newsfeeds or casual betting games.
For a split second, the entire cantina fell silent.
Then-
"Well, look what the void spat back out!"
The unmistakable voice of Nara rang through the room, cutting through the chatter like a laser-blade.
Before Ethan could react, the cantina owner strode toward him, her arms crossed, a wide smile on her face. Nara was human, perhaps in her late fifties, her dark hair streaked with silver and pulled into a loose bun. Lines around her sharp green eyes spoke of years of hardship, but her presence radiated a sturdy, motherly warmth. She had always reminded Ethan of the kind of woman who could comfort a child one minute and break a thug's nose the next.
She eyed him up and down before giving his arm a light but firm smack.
"You stubborn lad," she huffed, shaking her head. "I half expected to hear you'd blown up along with that Syndicate stronghold in the north!"
Ethan smirked. "Almost did."
"Typical." She rolled her eyes but smiled, the kind of smile that carried genuine relief. "You look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks."
"Accurate," Ethan admitted.
"Well, then," she said, already turning toward the kitchen, "you're not leaving here without a real meal in you."
As Nara disappeared into the back, the murmurs in the cantina grew louder.
A few mercenaries, some he recognized from past jobs, others likely new blood raised their glasses in his direction. One, a burly human with cybernetic arms, grinned and clanked his mug against his table. "To the man who put those Syndicate bastards in the dirt!"
Another merc, a wiry Zelsari with four eyes and translucent skin, chuckled. "Didn't think we'd all actually make it out. Guess we owe you a drink."
Several regulars, dock workers, engineers, small-time traders nodded in agreement. Some simply raised their glasses; others reached out as Ethan passed, offering quick pats on the back or murmured words of thanks.
Ethan responded with small nods and half-smiles, acknowledging them without drawing too much attention to himself. He wasn't used to this kind of reception. Gratitude in this line of work was rare, most mercenaries didn't live long enough to collect it.
Settling into his usual seat near the bar, Ethan leaned back and let himself exhale. It felt... different. The cantina, the city, the people. Everything had shifted since the war ended. There was no more quiet fear hiding in the corners, no more hushed conversations laced with dread.
For the first time, it felt like peace.
Moments later, Nara returned, carrying a tray with enough food to feed an entire squad.
"Eat," she ordered, setting it down with a solid thud. "No arguments."
Ethan glanced at the spread. Thick slabs of grilled Talvar meat, spiced root vegetables from Kynara's eastern farms, a bowl of steaming grain stew, and a side of crispy synth-bread coated in some kind of rich, savory glaze. Beside it all was a steaming cup of her signature house brew, something between spiced cider and tea with a kick strong enough to wake the dead.
"You didn't have to-"
"Shush." Nara leveled a glare at him. "After everything you've been through? Everything you did for me, for this city? You deserve a feast, and you're going to eat every damn bite."
Ethan smirked but didn't argue.
He dug in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself enjoy a meal without rushing, without the weight of an imminent fight looming over him. The flavors were rich and bold, the kind of home-cooked food that stuck to your ribs and made you forget the cold void outside.
The cantina buzzed around him as he ate.
Some mercenaries swapped war stories in the corner, others discussed new contracts popping up now that the Syndicate was gone. A group of traders haggled over rare salvage, while a musician in the corner strummed a stringed instrument, filling the space with a slow, mellow tune.
Ethan let himself sink into the atmosphere, into the normalcy of it all.
He ate more than he had in weeks, and with each bite, he felt something in him settle. A tension that had coiled so tightly inside him during the war now slowly unwinding.
As he finished the last of his meal, Nara leaned against the bar, watching him with a satisfied smirk.
"Good?" she asked.
Ethan nodded, setting his fork down. "Best meal I've had in a long time."
"Damn right it is," she said, crossing her arms. "And you'd better come back for another one."
Ethan chuckled. "I'll try."
"See that you do."
She poured him another cup of her house brew and leaned in slightly, her voice quieter now. "I mean it, Ethan. You've done enough running, enough fighting for the time being. Take a moment to live, yeah?"
Ethan met her gaze. He saw the concern behind her usual sharp wit, the unspoken understanding of what men like him carried after war.
He took the cup from her and nodded. "I'll try," he said again.
And for the first time in a long time, he actually meant it.