A galactic federation carrier strike group drifts through the cosmic night, its vessels dissolving into light as they return from an interstellar battlefield. The war is over—what remains are silent silhouettes, luminous fragments of force and form, barely held together by memory and momentum.

They do not march in victory. They are not paraded home. Instead, they are gently repatriated—drawn back by a gravitational memory deeper than any command. Light pulls them, as if the galaxy itself remembers where they belong.

This is no mere return. It is a fading from the known into the infinite, a final merging into the mother galaxy’s embrace. The distinction between ship and soul, fleet and field, vanishes. What remains is only the flow—existence repatriated into light.