The silence in the Star-Jumper felt different after Lira fell back asleep. It was no longer just empty; it was charged. Marc watched the steady rise and fall of her blanket, the faint glow of the data-cube on the bedside table. The Cerebrian girl's words echoed in his mind, not as comfort, but as a catalyst.
"You're not disconnected. You're just a different form."
A different form. A weapon. A tool. That's what he'd always been. But watching Lira, seeing the sheer, brutalized innocence in someone who understood the universe's cruelty better than most adults, something in him solidified. The hollow feeling wasn't filled with warmth, but with a cold, singular purpose. Talking, planning, waiting for the Guild—it was too slow. Too uncertain. It was what people who had time would do. He was done waiting.
