Time didn't stop.
It hesitated.
Jimmy felt it the way you feel a sneeze coming—inevitable, coiled, rude. The air around him vibrated with overlapping outcomes, thin ghost-images stacking on top of reality. In one, the hangar collapsed. In another, it didn't—but they died anyway. In a third, Vex was bleeding on the floor and Jimmy didn't know why yet.
He hated that one most.
"Incoming in eight seconds," Sparky said. "Correction—six. Correction—wow, that's a lot of guns."
Vex grabbed Jimmy by the collar and hauled him backward toward the ship. "Move. Now."
They ran.
Or rather—Vex ran. Jimmy stumbled forward and the universe politely rearranged itself to keep him upright. Falling debris missed him by centimeters. A collapsing gantry buckled after he cleared it, not before. He didn't decide any of that.
It just… happened that way.
"This is wrong," Jimmy gasped. "I didn't think it—I didn't choose—"
"You don't have time to panic," Vex snapped. "Do that later."
The ramp slammed shut behind them as the Stellar Nymph lurched upward. External cameras flared to life just in time to show three Syndicate interceptors ripping through the smoke—sleek, angular, bristling with cannons that glowed an unfriendly blue.
"Leash-holders confirmed," Sparky said. "These are not here to negotiate."
"Of course they're not," Jimmy muttered, strapping himself into the pilot's chair. The ship groaned in protest as Vex vaulted into the copilot seat, hands already flying across controls.
"Power's still unstable," she said. "We can't outgun them."
Jimmy swallowed.
He looked.
The future fractured again—thin, transparent slices drifting through his mind. He saw the interceptors firing. Saw the Nymph taking hits. Saw one possible path where they jumped to hyperspace clean.
And another where the jump failed.
"Left," Jimmy said suddenly. "Hard left. Then roll."
Vex didn't question it.
The Nymph corkscrewed just as blue energy lanced through the space they'd occupied a moment before. Jimmy felt the timing click into place, like gears meshing.
"Oh," he breathed. "I can feel the gap."
"The what?" Vex demanded.
"The space between 'about to' and 'already happened,'" Jimmy said. "There's a… pocket. A window."
Sparky's lens widened. "You are describing temporal micro-slippage."
Jimmy shrugged weakly. "I call it 'cheating.'"
Another volley screamed toward them.
"Now!" Jimmy shouted.
Vex slammed the throttle.
The ship surged forward—not faster than physics allowed, but earlier than expected. The shots passed behind them, close enough that the hull rang like a struck bell.
One of the interceptors clipped debris from the collapsing station and spun out, engines flaring wildly before it vanished in a silent bloom of fire.
"That was not luck," Vex said, eyes flicking to Jimmy.
He didn't smile. "No."
His skin prickled. The glow under his flesh flared faintly, veins lighting up—not bright, not hungry, but tense. Holding something back.
The future crowded closer, heavier now. Each choice pulled at him, demanding attention. His head throbbed.
"Jimmy," Sparky said carefully, "you can't keep riding the edge like this. You don't have a limiter."
"Working on it," Jimmy replied through clenched teeth.
Another vision slammed into him—this one sharper, louder.
A Syndicate cruiser.
Not here. Soon.
He jerked upright. "We don't win this fight."
Vex glanced over. "Meaning?"
"Meaning we run now or we die in… about forty seconds."
She didn't argue.
"Coordinates?" she asked.
Jimmy closed his eyes—and for the first time, pushed back.
He didn't look at the future.
He nudged it.
Just a little.
"Punch it," he said. "On my mark."
The interceptors fired again.
Jimmy waited.
Waited.
The moment opened.
"Now."
Vex slammed the jump.
Space tore sideways as the Stellar Nymph vanished into hyperspace, the Syndicate's shots slicing through empty vacuum a heartbeat too late.
Silence fell.
Jimmy sagged back into his seat, breath ragged, sweat soaking through his clothes. The glow beneath his skin dimmed, leaving him shaking.
Vex stared at him for a long second.
"You're becoming something," she said.
Jimmy laughed weakly. "Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of."
Outside, the stars stretched and blurred, carrying them farther from the wreckage—
And closer to consequences that were already, inevitably, on their way.
Hyperspace was supposed to feel dramatic.
Lights streaking like cosmic rain, engines howling, the universe folding itself politely out of the way—Jimmy had imagined all of that at least once in his life, usually while eating cold leftovers and wishing his life were cooler.
Instead, it felt like sitting in the aftermath of a bad argument.
The Stellar Nymph hummed softly, patched systems stabilizing, warning lights dimming one by one as Sparky rerouted power with the pride of a toaster that had learned philosophy. The cockpit lighting shifted to low amber, the kind pilots used when they wanted to pretend things were calm.
Jimmy slumped in his seat, staring at his hands.
They were just hands again. No glow. No metal. No time-slippage ripple. Just calloused fingers and faint scars from a lifetime of scraping by.
"That's new," he said quietly.
Vex didn't answer right away.
She was still strapped into the copilot's chair, posture rigid, eyes forward. Her tattoos had settled into a slow, rhythmic glow—soft blues and violets tracing her collarbone, spiraling down her arms, dipping beneath the edges of her armor. Jimmy could tell, now, when they reflected emotion. This wasn't combat-light. This was… processing.
"You didn't tell me you could see the future," she said finally.
Jimmy winced. "I didn't know I could."
She turned to look at him then, really look at him. Her gaze was sharp, searching, but not hostile. Not anymore.
"You gave me orders," she continued. "In a fight. And you were right every time."
"Beginner's luck?"
"Jimmy."
He sighed. "Okay. Yeah. I saw things. Brief things. Like… wrong versions of now."
Her tattoos brightened slightly—concern. "How many?"
"Too many," he admitted. "Enough that my brain feels like it ran a marathon while on fire."
Sparky floated up between them, lens swiveling. "For the record, your cortical activity briefly exceeded safe biological parameters. You are not built for temporal awareness."
"Cool," Jimmy muttered. "Neither was my credit score, but here we are."
Vex snorted despite herself.
That seemed to break something. She unbuckled, stood, and leaned against the console, arms crossed. Up close, Jimmy noticed small details he hadn't before—faint scars along her ribs, a thin line at her jaw where energy had once burned too close, the way her tattoos subtly reoriented toward him, like they were paying attention.
"You didn't run," she said.
He blinked. "I mean, we literally jumped to hyperspace."
"I mean," she clarified, "you didn't leave me."
Jimmy frowned. "Why would I?"
Her eyes flickered.
"You could have," she said. "Most people do. When they realize what they're standing next to."
He swallowed. "You mean the walking buffet of illegal powers?"
"I mean someone who changes the math," Vex replied. "People like that attract fear. Greed. Leashes."
Jimmy leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Not exactly the life goal I had in mind."
Silence stretched—not awkward, but weighted.
Then Jimmy smirked. "For the record, you fly like someone who's crashed exactly the right number of times."
She arched a brow. "And how many is that?"
"Enough to stop panicking," he said. "Not enough to stop caring."
Her tattoos flared—surprise, quickly masked.
"You're observant," she said.
"I ate a magic eyeball," Jimmy replied. "I'd be offended if I wasn't."
That earned a real laugh. Short, sharp, but genuine.
She moved closer, bracing one hand on the back of his chair. Jimmy became acutely aware of her presence—heat, gravity, the faint hum of alien energy under her skin. His enhanced vision did not kick in, and for once, he was grateful.
"You know," she said softly, "on Xylos, people like you would've been myth. Devourers. Star-touched."
"On Earth," Jimmy replied, "people like me get detention."
She smiled at that, then sobered. "I was taught to fear beings who consume power. We lost our throne to one."
Jimmy looked up at her. "Is that why you were exiled?"
Her jaw tightened. The tattoos along her throat dimmed, darkening toward indigo.
"Yes."
He didn't push.
Instead, he said, "I don't want to be that."
Vex studied him for a long moment.
"Good," she said. "Because I don't think you are."
Something settled between them—not trust, not yet, but alignment. A mutual acknowledgment that whatever they were becoming, they were doing it side by side.
Sparky cleared his throat again. "Emotional checkpoint aside, I should inform you that your unintentional snack has altered your internal power distribution."
Jimmy groaned. "Please tell me I didn't grow a third spleen."
"No," Sparky said. "Worse. You now emit probability distortion in a short radius when emotionally stressed."
Vex blinked. "Explain."
"When Jimmy panics," Sparky continued, "reality becomes… flexible."
Jimmy stared. "That feels like a design flaw."
"It is," Sparky agreed.
Vex straightened. "So if you lose control—"
"I break things I didn't mean to," Jimmy finished. "Yeah. Noted."
She stepped back, then extended a hand.
"Then we train," she said. "Together."
He hesitated. "You sure you want to sign up for that?"
Her eyes locked onto his. Steady. Certain.
"I've survived exile, hunters, and a Syndicate kill-team," she said. "You're not the scariest thing I've stood next to."
Jimmy took her hand.
Her grip was warm. Strong.
For just a moment, the ship felt quiet—not empty, not tense.
Just… steady.
And somewhere deep in Jimmy's chest, beneath the hunger and the power and the fear, something unfamiliar sparked.
Hope.
Which, unfortunately, had a habit of attracting trouble.