Elias's pod shuddered violently as the last drone streaked past, barely missing the hull. Sparks erupted from the cockpit, illuminating his face with fleeting streaks of white light. The shadow's pulse lingered in his mind, a faint echo that seemed to reach inside his skull.
He gritted his teeth. "Okay… let's see how smart you really are."
The pod's emergency thrusters flared to life. Elias gripped the controls as the craft twisted sharply, banking toward a nearby gas giant. Its gravity well loomed like a jagged blade in the void. He had only one chance: a high-risk slingshot maneuver that could mask his energy signature—or tear him apart.
"Sentinel, ready auxiliary systems for gravity slingshot," he ordered.
"Systems nominal, but G-forces approaching human tolerance limits," the AI warned.
Elias exhaled, clenching the harness. "Then I guess I'll just have to hold on."
The pod lurched as they entered the giant's gravitational field. Stars warped into long streaks, bending around the massive planet like molten light. The pod's hull groaned, every joint vibrating under stress. Gravity shifted erratically. One moment his body was pinned to the harness, the next he felt almost weightless.
"Elias, neural pulse detected from Protocol fragment. Stronger than previous readings," Sentinel said.
He groaned. The last thing he needed was the Protocol messing with his head mid-maneuver. His hands tightened on the controls. Focus on the pod. Focus on survival.
The first drone reappeared, cutting through the warped light like a needle. Laser beams streaked across the pod's path. He twisted violently, using the gravity well to curve his trajectory. Sparks and debris flew past as lasers impacted the asteroid fragments around him.
"Evasive success probability: 36%," Sentinel reported.
"Better than nothing," Elias muttered. He twisted again, narrowly missing a concentrated beam that scorched the pod's hull. The cockpit rattled violently. Warning lights flashed across the panels.
Then a sharp pulse radiated through the pod—deep, resonating, like the heartbeat of a planet. Elias's vision shimmered. Images flashed in his mind: fleets of ships exploding across alien skies, soldiers screaming, worlds aflame. Memories that weren't his own.
"It's probing me," he whispered. "Trying to see what I can do… what I'm willing to do."
"Neural firewall at maximum," Sentinel said. "Attempting to stabilize cognitive load."
The pulse hit again. This time, Elias felt the Protocol fragment in his neural interface trying to synchronize with his thoughts. He could feel it nudging him, testing him. Trying to control him.
He slammed a hand on the override console. "Not today."
The pod lurched violently as the slingshot maneuver reached its peak. Lights flickered, screens sparked, and the hull groaned under the immense strain. His stomach lurched as the G-forces pushed him to the limits.
Outside the viewport, the shadow entity pulsed, dark and angular, clearly affected by the slingshot. It hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was all Elias needed.
He twisted the pod violently, using the gas giant's shadow to obscure his energy signature. For a moment, he felt a strange calm, as if the void itself had swallowed him.
Then the pulse returned, stronger. This time, the shadow wasn't just watching—it was communicating. Images exploded in his mind: alien symbols, ships, commands, and warnings. He staggered in the harness, gasping for breath.
"Elias… stabilize neural input immediately," Sentinel warned.
He forced himself to focus, blinking rapidly, grounding his thoughts on the pod, on the controls, on the tactile reality beneath his fingers. Every instinct told him to panic—but panic would get him killed.
A drone shot from above, firing a concentrated beam. The cockpit shuddered violently, screens flickering as the energy tore across the hull. He twisted violently, dodging the blast by centimeters. Sparks showered the console.
"Hull integrity down to 78%," Sentinel said.
Elias exhaled sharply. "I'm still alive. That counts for something."
The shadow pulsed again, synchronized with the pod's neural interface. Elias felt the Protocol fragment probing deeper than ever before, trying to anticipate his actions before he made them. His mind raced. He needed an opening.
There it was: a narrow gap between two asteroid clusters, illuminated faintly by the gas giant's reflected light. If he could reach it… maybe he could shake the drones, maybe even the shadow.
He slammed the thrusters forward, pod lurching violently, spinning through the gap. Laser fire screamed past, clipping asteroids that exploded into glittering debris. The shadow pulsed again, visibly recoiling.
Elias gritted his teeth. "Good. Keep flinching."
"Caution: structural integrity failing," Sentinel warned.
He ignored it. One hand on the manual override, the other gripping the harness. Every ounce of skill, instinct, and desperation went into the maneuver.
Finally, the pod cleared the asteroid cluster. Silence. The shadow lingered at the edge, pulsing faintly, as if considering its next move. Elias's chest heaved, sweat dripping down his face inside the helmet.
"We bought time," he muttered.
"Temporary," Sentinel said.
Elias shook his head. He knew the truth. The shadow wouldn't give up. And the Protocol wasn't done testing him yet.
Then the pod's sensors flickered. A faint signal appeared—one that didn't belong to the drones, the shadow, or anything human.
"Sentinel… what is that?"
"Unknown energy signature. Likely connected to the Protocol. Possible communication attempt."
Elias's stomach dropped. He realized, with a chill, that this wasn't just a fight for survival anymore.
It was a conversation.
And the universe was talking to him.