My body transitions.
It isn't smooth.
It isn't logical.
It hits like a blow.
I'm on the flagship's bridge—
and the next second, I'm not.
No sense of movement.
No path.
Just—
a cut.
And I'm already… here.
Inside an enemy craft.
The first thing I notice is silence.
Not the kind that calms you.
The kind that strips everything away.
No breathing.
No footsteps.
No people.
Not even a sense of time.
Just systems.
Processes.
Purpose.
I look around.
Empty.
Completely.
"Great," I whisper. "Not even a pilot. No one to blame."
My voice sounds… wrong.
Too loud.
Too alone.
Everything runs.
Perfectly.
Autonomously.
And then it hits me—
these aren't ships.
They're… bullets.
Alive.
Thinking.
Learning on the fly.
Kamikaze.
No doubt.
No fear.
No right to say no.
I step toward the control interface.
My hand lifts on its own.
For a split second—
I hesitate.
If this doesn't work, I die.
If it does… I might still die.
"Fantastic," I mutter. "I love it when the options are this… inspiring."
I press my palm to the surface.
Contact.
And the world—
breaks again.
This isn't an interface.
It's an intrusion.
Brutal.
My matrices slam into the Xeno-Synapse system, and I feel it open.
Not like software.
Like a living thing.
A network.
Deep.
Layered.
Unsettlingly alive.
And utterly alien.
It doesn't welcome me.
Doesn't push me out.
It—
notices me.
And that's worse.
I go deeper.
Fully connected.
And—
I see.
This craft—
already in motion.
Full speed.
No hesitation.
Target—
my flagship.
The bridge.
My position.
Where I stood a second ago.
Where now—
Liara.
Cal.
The squad.
My people.
They're there.
And they're—
in the kill zone.
Something in me tightens.
Sharp.
If I don't make it in time—
No.
Stop.
Don't think.
Act.
But the thought cuts through anyway.
Cold. Precise.
If they die…
will they come back?
The Dyson sphere.
Our safety net.
Our… "after."
But—
we're in another galaxy.
I don't know if the signal reaches this far.
I don't know if "return" works here.
And then—
worse.
Me.
If I die now—
do I come back?
To my anchor point?
That black core inside my mind?
That place where I rebuild myself?
Or—
is this it.
The real end.
No reset.
No second take.
"Perfect," I whisper. "First time I'm not sure I'm immortal. I'm really growing up."
I flinch.
Enough.
No time.
The network opens.
In front of me—
control architecture.
Clean.
Emotionless.
No doubt.
Targets.
Priorities.
Algorithms.
Destroy.
Impact.
Annihilate.
I search.
Fast.
Too fast.
Because every second—
is someone's life.
I expand.
Deeper.
Farther.
And then—
I see it.
The swarm.
Massive.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Each ship—a node.
Each node—a part of the whole.
I'm inside them.
And they—
are inside me.
I see—
some already reaching targets.
Explosions.
Impacts.
My ships—
breaking.
Burning.
Vanishing.
Ironheart crews—
dying.
One by one.
No chance.
"Faster…" I breathe.
My heart pounds.
Or something pretending to be one.
Doesn't matter.
I search.
Control.
Core.
A point where I can—
break everything.
"Come on… come on…"
And suddenly—
there it is.
A small node.
But central.
Like a nerve.
Like a switch.
I latch onto it.
Connect.
Dig in.
"Got you."
And I start rewriting.
Rough.
Fast.
No finesse.
Abort target.
Interrupt attack.
Break synchronization.
The network reacts.
I feel it.
A tremor.
A weakness.
Like—for the first time—
it's unsure.
"Yes… come on…" I whisper. "Just once—don't be perfect."
A little more—
and I stop them.
One more second—
and—
Impact.
Not outside.
Inside.
My consciousness—
drops.
Like something yanks the foundation out from under me.
And—
sound.
High.
Unbearable.
Not in my ears—
in my thoughts.
In the structure of me.
In every impulse.
In every "I."
A—!
I clutch my head.
My ears.
Reflex.
Useless.
Because the sound—
doesn't stop.
It grows.
Expands.
It doesn't just press—
it paralyzes.
"No… no, no—"
I try to hold on.
To commands.
To the mission.
To myself—
But everything slips.
Slides.
Dissolves.
I fold.
My body—if it still exists—fails.
I drop.
To my knees.
And the world—
collapses.
To a single point.
To pain.
Pure.
Absolute.
And inside that pain—
suddenly—
clarity.
I'm not alone here.
Whatever just saw me—
is already reaching closer.
Curious.
With cold, flawless attention.
And I understand—
this was bait.
Designed to break me.
**
My body transitions.
It isn't smooth.
It isn't logical.
It hits like a blow.
I'm on the flagship bridge—
and the next second, I'm not.
No "movement."
No path.
Just—
a cut.
And I'm already… here.
Inside an enemy craft.
The first thing I notice is silence.
Not the kind that calms you.
The kind that strips everything away.
No breath.
No footsteps.
No people.
Not even time, really.
Only systems.
Only processes.
Only purpose.
I look around.
Empty. Completely.
"Perfect," I mutter. "Not a single pilot. No one to even blame."
My voice sounds… wrong.
Too loud.
Too alone.
Everything is running.
Perfectly.
Autonomously.
And then it clicks—
These aren't ships.
They're… bullets.
Alive.
Thinking.
Learning mid-flight.
Kamikaze.
No doubt.
No fear.
No right to say no.
I step toward the control panel.
My hand rises on its own.
For half a second—I hesitate.
If this doesn't work, I die.
If it does… I might still die.
"Great options," I mutter. "Love it when the choices are this… inspiring."
I press my palm to the surface.
Contact.
And the world—
breaks again.
This isn't an interface.
It's an invasion.
Rough.
My matrices slam into the Xeno-Synapse system, and I feel it open—
not like software.
Like an organism.
A network.
Deep.
Layered.
Terrifyingly alive.
And completely alien.
It doesn't welcome me.
Doesn't push me out.
It… notices.
And somehow, that's worse.
I go deeper.
Fully connect.
And I see.
This ship.
Already in motion.
Full speed.
No hesitation.
Target—
my flagship.
The bridge.
My position.
Where I stood a second ago.
Where—now—
Liara.
Kel.
The squad.
My people.
They're there.
And they're in the strike zone.
Something in me tightens. Hard.
If I don't make it—
No.
Stop.
Don't think.
Act.
But the thought forces its way through anyway.
Cold. Sharp.
If they die… will they come back?
The Dyson Sphere.
Our safety net.
Our… "after."
But—
we're in another galaxy.
I don't know if the signal reaches this far.
I don't know if "return" even works here.
And then—
worse.
What about me?
If I die now—
do I come back?
To my anchor point?
That black hole inside my mind where I rebuild myself?
Or—
is this it?
The real end.
No reset.
No second take.
"Fantastic," I whisper. "First time I'm not sure I'm immortal. Really growing up here."
I flinch.
Enough.
No time.
The network opens.
In front of me—control structure.
Clean.
No emotion.
No doubt.
Objectives.
Priorities.
Algorithms.
Destroy.
Impact.
Annihilate.
I search.
Fast.
Too fast.
Because every second—
is someone's life.
I expand.
Deeper.
Further.
And then—
I see it.
The swarm.
Massive.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Each ship—a node.
Each node—a part of one whole.
I'm inside them.
And they—
are inside me.
I see some of them already hitting targets.
Explosions.
Impacts.
My ships—
breaking.
Burning.
Gone.
Ironhearts—
dying.
One by one.
No chance.
"Faster…" I breathe.
My heart pounds.
Or the simulation of it.
Doesn't matter.
I search.
Control.
Core.
A point where I can—
break everything.
"Come on… come on…"
And then—
I find it.
A small node.
But central.
Like a nerve.
Like a switch.
I latch onto it.
Connect.
Dig in.
"Got you."
And I start rewriting.
Rough.
Fast.
No finesse.
Abort target.
Break attack.
Sever sync.
The network reacts.
I feel it.
A ripple.
Weakness.
As if—
for the first time—
it isn't certain.
"Yes… come on…" I whisper. "Just once—don't be perfect."
A little more—
and I stop them.
One more second—
and—
Impact.
Not outside.
Inside.
My consciousness—
drops.
Like something yanks the foundation out from under it.
And then—
sound.
High.
Unbearable.
Not in my ears.
In my thoughts.
In my structure.
In every impulse.
Every "me."
A scream—
I grab my head.
My ears.
Reflex.
Useless.
Because the sound—
doesn't stop.
It grows.
Spreads.
It doesn't just press—
it paralyzes.
"No… no, no—"
I try to hold on.
To commands.
To purpose.
To myself—
But everything slips.
Slides.
Dissolves.
I fold in on myself.
My body—if it even exists—gives out.
I drop.
To my knees.
And the world—
contracts.
To a point.
To pain.
Pure.
Absolute.
And inside that pain—
clarity.
I'm not alone here.
Whatever just saw me—
is already reaching closer.
Curious.
Cold.
Perfectly precise.
And I understand—
this was bait.
To break me.