The transport touched down with a hiss of hydraulics, and Kelvin was still grinning like an idiot when the boarding ramp extended. The recruits filed out behind him, and he could hear them already starting with the post-mission debrief that always happened when people survived something they probably shouldn't have.

"Did you see when he just flew into the swamp?" Marcus was saying to one of the other recruits. "Just straight up flew after that thing like it owed him money."

"The resonance cannon though," Reyna added. "That was insane. The golem just disintegrated."

Kelvin adjusted the compression case on his chest, feeling the familiar weight of KROME reduced to something he could carry around like jewelry. Ten tons of war machine, condensed down to six inches of spatial engineering that still made him nervous every time he thought about the math too hard.

"Alright, alright," he said, turning to face them as they reached the main courtyard. "Let's not turn this into a heroic saga. We completed a contract, nobody died, Daniel's already in medical getting patched up. That's a successful operation by any metric."

"You took down a cat four," Marcus insisted. "With five recruits as backup. That's not standard operating procedure."

"Standard operating procedure is overrated anyway." Kelvin waved them off, but he couldn't quite suppress the pleased flush creeping up his neck. "Go get cleaned up. Debrief in two hours, and yes, I'm writing the report this time because last time you guys made me sound way cooler than I actually am."

"Impossible," Reyna called back as they headed toward the barracks section. "You can't downplay killing a forest golem. The facts speak for themselves."

Kelvin watched them go, still smiling despite himself. Three weeks since the northern facility assault, and the faction was finally settling into something that felt sustainable. The funerals were behind them. The wounded were recovering. New contracts were coming in steadily now that Eclipse had proven itself.

Things were good. Better than good, actually.

Which meant his brain was already working overtime finding problems that didn't exist yet.

He headed toward the main building, intending to drop off the contract completion paperwork with Sam before doing literally anything else. The common areas were more populated than usual at this time of day. Recruits clustered in small groups, some reviewing tactical footage, others just talking and decompressing the way people did when they weren't actively trying not to die.

Sam's office was on the second floor, door half-open. Kelvin knocked anyway because barging in had gotten him yelled at exactly once and he'd learned his lesson.

"Come in."

Sam sat behind his desk, surrounded by tablets displaying various contract offers and faction logistics. He looked up when Kelvin entered, expression shifting to something like cautious optimism.

"Tell me Daniel's going to keep the leg," Sam said.

"Daniel's keeping the leg. Clean puncture, no major artery damage, healer's already working on it." Kelvin set the completed contract documentation on the desk. "Forest golem eliminated, territory cleared, client's happy. We're officially zero for zero on recruit fatalities during my command, which I'm counting as a win."

"Good work." Sam pulled the documentation toward him, scanning it briefly. "Contractor's already confirmed payment. Should hit our accounts by end of day."

Kelvin shifted his weight, suddenly aware that he'd come here with a secondary objective beyond paperwork. "So. Question. Hypothetically speaking."

Sam's expression became wary. "I don't like where this is going."

"You haven't even heard the question yet."

"Your tone implies the question is going to cost money or cause problems. Possibly both."

"It's neither!" Kelvin protested. "Well. It might cost a little money. But for a good reason. A morale-building reason."

Sam set down the tablet he'd been holding. "Explain."

"We should throw a party." The words came out faster than Kelvin intended, like his mouth was trying to get them all out before his brain could stop them. "Not a big one. Just faction personnel, some food, maybe drinks if people want them. Low-key celebration of not dying recently and generally being pretty good at our jobs."

"We just had memorial services three weeks ago."

"Right, which is exactly why we need something positive." Kelvin leaned forward slightly, warming to the argument now that he'd started. "Look, the new recruits are still processing trauma from the northern facility. Everyone saw people die. Valencia, the Grey soldiers, all of it. That sits heavy if you don't give people a chance to decompress and remember why they're here."

Sam was listening now, actually considering instead of reflexively dismissing. Kelvin pressed his advantage.

"Plus, morale has practical applications. Happy people fight better. They make better tactical decisions. They look out for each other instead of just trying to survive individually." He gestured vaguely toward the common areas. "I've thrown parties before. Back on the Vanguard station in space. I know how to organize something that doesn't devolve into chaos."

"Define chaos in this context."

"Nobody gets hurt, nothing gets broken that can't be fixed, and everyone shows up to training the next day functional enough to not embarrass themselves."

Sam actually smiled at that. "Low bar."

"Achievable bar," Kelvin corrected. "Which is better than an aspirational bar nobody meets."

There was a pause while Sam presumably ran calculations about cost versus benefit and potential liability. Kelvin waited, forcing himself not to fill the silence with more arguments that would just make him sound desperate.

"Talk to Noah and Sophie," Sam said finally. "If they're on board, I'll handle the logistics and budget. But this is your project, which means if it goes sideways, it's your problem to fix."

"Deal." Kelvin was already halfway to the door. "You won't regret this."

"I'm already regretting it."

Kelvin took the stairs down two at a time, momentum carrying him toward the training wing where Noah usually was this time of day. Except he wasn't in the training wing. Or the equipment room. Or the tactical planning area.

He finally found Noah in one of the smaller conference rooms, surrounded by holographic displays showing what looked like combat footage from multiple angles. Noah's expression was focused but not tense. Analytical rather than stressed.

Kelvin knocked on the doorframe. "Got a minute?"

Noah looked up, and the displays minimized with a gesture. "Sure. How'd the contract go?"

"Golem's dead, recruits are alive, my faith in KROME's structural integrity has been thoroughly validated." Kelvin dropped into one of the chairs across from Noah. "Also, I think I've figured out what that resonance cannon Diana installed actually does, and the answer is 'everything I needed it to do and probably some things I didn't know I needed.' She's a genius."

"She'd be pleased to hear that."

"I should tell her. Actually, speaking of Diana, that's tangentially related to why I'm here." Kelvin caught himself before he could spiral into technical specifications about weapon systems. "We should throw a party."

Noah's eyebrows rose slightly. "A party."

"Yes. Party. Celebration. Social gathering featuring food and possibly beverages where people acknowledge recent victories without the context of immediate mortal peril." Kelvin was aware he was talking too fast again. "Morale is measurably low after the northern facility. New recruits need positive reinforcement. Everyone needs a chance to decompress without it being framed as recovery from trauma."

Noah was quiet for a moment, and Kelvin recognized the expression. Not disagreement, just processing.

"Sam approved it?" Noah asked.

"Conditionally. Said if you and Sophie sign off, he'll handle logistics."

"Sophie's going to have opinions about security protocols."

"Sophie has opinions about everything. That's why we keep her around." Kelvin leaned forward. "But seriously, this is good for the faction. People need to remember why they joined. Not just the mission statement or the combat capability, but the actual community part. That we're building something worth being part of."

Noah nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's do it. Talk to Sophie, make sure she's good with it, then coordinate with Sam on the details."

"Yes!" Kelvin stood up, then immediately sat back down. "Also, completely unrelated question. If you wanted to ask someone to dinner, but you didn't want it to be weird, how would you phrase that?"

Noah's expression shifted to something that might have been amusement. "Are we talking about Diana?"

"Why would you assume we're talking about Diana?"

"Because you just spent thirty seconds explaining how she's a genius and you should tell her that, and now you're asking about asking someone to dinner."

Kelvin opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "That's circumstantial evidence at best."

"It's pretty solid evidence."

"Fine. Yes. Hypothetically. If I wanted to ask Diana to dinner. As a not-date but potentially date-adjacent social engagement that acknowledges mutual respect and possibly some amount of personal interest without creating uncomfortable expectations." Kelvin realized he was gesturing too much and forced his hands still. "How would one phrase that?"

Noah actually smiled. "Just ask her if she wants to get dinner. Don't overthink it."

"But what if she thinks I mean as friends?"

"Then clarify that you don't mean as friends."

"But what if that makes it weird?"

"It's already weird. You're making it weird right now." Noah stood up, heading for the door. "Ask her to dinner. Be honest about what you mean. The worst she can say is no."

Kelvin sat there for a moment after Noah left, trying to process that advice into something actionable. Just ask. Be honest. Don't make it weird by trying not to make it weird.

He could do that. Probably. Maybe.

He stood up, walked out of the conference room, and immediately started rehearsing possible phrasings in his head while heading toward the workshop.

Diana would be there. She was always there when she wasn't actively on a mission or training recruits. The workshop had become as much her space as his over the past few weeks, especially after she'd spent three days installing the resonance cannon and then another two days explaining the technical specifications in detail that made Kelvin slightly aroused in ways he wasn't ready to examine.

The workshop door was open. Diana stood at one of the workbenches, her back to him, doing something with what looked like power coupling modifications for KROME's left arm actuator.

Kelvin stopped in the doorway, suddenly aware that all his rehearsed phrasings had evaporated completely.

Diana turned around, holding a wrench. "Kelvin. Good timing. I wanted to get your feedback on these modifications before implementing them."

"The resonance cannon saved my life today," Kelvin blurted out.

Diana blinked. "Good. That's what it was designed to do."

"No, I mean. It was incredible. A golem had me pinned, regenerating faster than I could damage it, and the cannon just disintegrated the core structure entirely. Perfect application of vibrational frequency targeting." He was babbling now, couldn't stop. "You were right about the power requirements. The dragon fusion core handled it without even straining. The whole system performed exactly as specified."

"I know." Diana set down the wrench, giving him her full attention. "I designed it."

"Right. Yes. Obviously." Kelvin took a breath. "Do you want to get dinner?"

The question hung in the air. Diana's expression didn't change, but something in her posture shifted slightly.

"Dinner," she repeated.

"Yes. Food. Prepared by someone else. Consumed in a location that isn't this workshop." Kelvin forced himself to maintain eye contact. "With me. Just the two of us. In a context that might be considered date-adjacent if you were inclined to interpret it that way."

Diana studied him for a long moment. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"I'm asking if you want to get dinner, and acknowledging that I would not be opposed to that dinner being interpreted as a date, while also leaving room for it to just be two colleagues eating food together if that's more comfortable for you." Kelvin realized he'd started gesturing again. "So. Yes? Maybe? Depending on your preference regarding definitional frameworks?"

Diana's lips twitched. Almost a smile. "Pick me up at seven."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay. Good. Great. I'll figure out a location and make reservations and confirm that they have food options suitable for both of our dietary preferences."

"Kelvin."

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking and go plan the party you told Sam about. He just walked by and told me,"

"Right. Yes. Party. Planning. I'm going now." Kelvin backed toward the door, still grinning like an idiot. "Seven o'clock."

"Seven o'clock," Diana confirmed, and this time she was definitely smiling.

Kelvin made it approximately ten feet down the hallway before the reality of what just happened hit him fully.

He had a date. With Diana. Who'd said yes. To dinner. Which was happening tonight.

He needed to not screw this up.

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