The launch bay loomed ahead—a massive chamber with shattered catwalks and broken scaffolding. Fires flickered across the ceiling, but at the far end, still untouched, rested a sleek black vessel. Compact, armored, its hull humming with dormant power.
"The Wraith," Brinley whispered.
"You know that ship?"
"I requested it. Emergency fallback. Cloak-capable, dual-core engines, one pilot, one passenger max. Short-range only."
"Perfect," Julius muttered, approaching fast.
But Echelon's voice came sharp and cold: "Hostile inbound. High velocity. Above."
Julius barely had time to react before a blur of metal dropped from the ceiling, slamming into the deck with a seismic clang. Another Hunter. Larger. Bulkier. Its arms ended in crackling arc-blades, and its "face" twisted with mechanical fury.
"Designation: Hunter Prime. This unit was assigned to secure the signal core," Echelon said.
"Too late for that," Julius growled, setting Brinley down behind a cargo crate. "Stay here."
The suit surged around him, the phase blades humming to life. But the Hunter Prime didn't charge—it studied him.
Then it spoke.
"Return the core," it said in a deep, grinding voice. "Symbiosis unauthorized. You are corrupted."
Julius took a step forward. "Too bad. I'm getting off this ship, and you're not stopping me."
"Incorrect," the Hunter said.
It lunged.
Julius met the charge, sparks flying as blades clashed. The impact sent a shockwave through the launch bay. Julius rolled beneath a sweeping strike, drove one blade into the creature's side—but the armor was thicker. Smarter.
"Need a hand here," Julius muttered.
"Engaging secondary protocol: energy siphon."
The suit's palms glowed briefly, and as Julius landed a punch against the Hunter's chest, it drained power—briefly stunning it.
"That's new."
"You're evolving," Echelon replied.
Julius didn't hesitate. He leapt forward, slashing hard. The Hunter staggered, but its systems rebooted fast. Too fast. It grabbed Julius mid-strike and hurled him across the bay.
He crashed against the bulkhead, armor sparking, head ringing.
"Systems critical. Neural interface destabilizing," Echelon warned.
Julius forced himself to his feet. "I'm not done."
Behind the Hunter, Brinley reached out from cover—her sidearm barely functional, but still loaded. She fired once. Twice. The rounds pinged off the machine's head, barely a distraction.
But Julius saw the opening.
"Thanks, Cap."
He charged. Blades flashing, he spun beneath a wide swing, leapt onto the creature's back, and drove both blades deep into its neck joint. The Hunter convulsed, limbs flailing wildly.
"Overload now!" Julius shouted.
"Confirmed," Echelon said.
A surge of light burst from the blades, and the Hunter Prime exploded in a blinding flash, throwing Julius clear.
When he came to, Brinley was at his side, helping him up. The launch bay was scarred, but the Wraith still stood—intact.
"You alive?" she asked.
"Barely."
"Then let's go."
With one last look at the wreckage of the ship behind them, they climbed aboard. The cockpit sealed, systems flared to life, and the Wraith launched into the blackness of space.
Below them, the ruined ship slowly folded in on itself, consumed by the firestorm.
But far beneath its remains, something else stirred—massive, ancient, and very much awake.