Chapter 146

  Alexander held on for as long as he could.

  His Will flowed through the ship, Electrokinesis feeding power to every rune Augustus had inscribed. Electrical energy, converted to magic, activated Talia’s enchantments, kept them running, enhancing the ship’s efficiency. Increasing its maximum potential. Metallokinesis followed, oscillating waves pushing at the ship in perfect rhythm.

  Sleipnir’s acceleration climbed. Fast, at first. Then slower, as he reduced the output of his powers. Efficiency was the goal. As much speed over the longest period he could maintain it.

  A marathon, not a sprint.

  One hundred thirty-three percent became one hundred fifty. Then one seventy. Two hundred.

  His scalp itched from the sweat. It ran down his face in streams, catching on his lashes, stinging his eyes. He blinked it away, maintaining focus.

  Two hundred twenty percent. Two forty.

  The strain built in his chest. His breathing came harder. The power flowing out of him felt like it was tearing something loose inside, piece by piece.

  It was a scary thought, especially given Alexander’s knowledge that he had a soul. That they all did. That it could be… fragmented. Torn. Harmed.

  Two sixty. Two seventy-five.

  His hands trembled. He knelt and pressed them flat against the deck plating beneath him, grounding himself physically even as his Will stretched throughout the entirety of the ship.

  Two ninety. Three hundred.

  “Three hundred twelve percent,” Yuki reported, her voice distant through the roaring in his ears.

  Alexander’s vision swam. The connection wavered.

  He couldn’t hold it anymore.

  He released the technique.

  Power snapped back into him like a rubber band. Alexander gasped, the sudden absence almost worse than the strain had been. His body sagged forward.

  Annie caught him before his face hit the deck.

  “I’ve got you,” she said, easing him back against the bulkhead. “You’re okay.”

  Alexander’s chest heaved. What had felt like an hour had barely been twenty minutes. Every breath felt like dragging air through cotton. His entire body ached, muscles trembling from exertion that had nothing to do with physical movement.

  Felix appeared beside him, kneeling down. A delicate purple hand settled on Alexander’s shoulder, warm and steady.

  “Life’s Song,” Felix said quietly.

  The healing flowed through Alexander’s body like cool water. The headache that had been building behind his eyes faded. The nauseous churning in his stomach settled. The trembling in his muscles eased, tension draining away.

  It didn’t restore his energy. That would take time and rest. But the physical discomfort lifted, leaving him drained but functional.

  “Thank you,” Alexander managed.

  Felix nodded and withdrew, returning to stand beside Annie.

  Alexander shifted position, pulling one leg close and leaning his weight against the bulkhead. The metal was cool against his back.

  Around the bridge, he could hear the crew relaxing slightly. Someone let out a long breath. The tension that had gripped everyone during his effort eased.

  “Nav,” Carmen said, “new calculations.”

  Vikram’s fingers flew across his console. Data streamed across multiple displays as he processed the two ship’s vectors. His expression remained fixed for several long seconds.

  Then he looked up. “We’ll reach the jump limit in approximately fifteen minutes, Captain.”

  Relief swept through the bridge like a wave. Someone laughed, the sound quickly stifled but genuine. Yuki’s shoulders dropped slightly. Davis grinned at Petra, who allowed herself a small smile in return.

  They’d done it. They were going to make it.

  Vikram’s expression didn’t change.

  “However,” he continued, and the relief evaporated as quickly as it had come, “the Integrity will enter effective weapons range fourteen minutes, fifteen seconds from now. We’ll be within their firing envelope for forty-five seconds before we reach the minimum safe distance for a jump.”

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  Vikram glanced at his display again. “The window could be extended up to seventy seconds if they redline their engines immediately.”

  Alexander considered the ramifications. Forty-five seconds with a military destroyer firing on them would feel like an eternity. Especially given the fact that destroyers were the first class of vessel that had the reactors and size to support grasers, replacing the more traditional laser weapons that the Sleipnir carried.

  Carmen stood from the captain’s chair. Her posture was straight, commanding. When she spoke, her voice carried across the bridge with absolute confidence.

  “Listen up,” she said. “This ship has some of the most advanced systems we can build. The reactor is sized for a frigate. Our ablative armor is rated the same as theirs. We even have the best shield generators humanity can produce. Electronic countermeasures that cost more than most people’s houses.”

  She looked around the bridge, meeting the eyes of each crew member one by one.

  “More importantly, we’re all veterans of ship-to-ship combat. We’ve been through worse than this. You know your job. You know this ship.” She paused. “We’re going to make it through those forty-five seconds. As long as everyone does what they’re trained to do, we’ll be fine.”

  The crew straightened. Hands returned to controls with renewed purpose. The fear didn’t vanish, but it was channeled into something productive. Professional focus replaced worry.

  Carmen sat back down. Her expression remained calm, certain.

  Alexander wondered if she actually believed what she’d said or if she was simply being the captain her crew needed. Either way, it was working.

  The bridge fell silent as the crew made preparations.

  On the tactical display, two icons glowed. The Sleipnir, represented by a blue marker. The Integrity, marked in red. Between them, a cone extended from the destroyer, representing its projected weapons envelope. At the center of the system, the local star, ringed by major gravitational thresholds.

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  The cone crept forward. Slowly. Inexorably closing the distance.

  Alexander watched it advance, the red shading inching toward their blue icon like a predator stalking prey across the digital map.

  Around him, the crew waited.

  Yuki’s hands rested on her controls, ready to act, but still while their flight path needed no adjustments. Davis checked his countermeasure systems for the third time. Petra’s eyes remained fixed on her sensor displays, watching for any change in the destroyer’s profile.

  The Grimnir members stood or sat in various positions around the bridge. Annie stayed close to Alexander, arms crossed but somehow the most relaxed. Augustus leaned against a support column, eyes half-closed. Talia stood where she could view all the displays, her gaze moving between them, probably analyzing the information as competently as the crew. Felix remained near Annie, tails lashing gently.

  There was a tense energy throughout the bridge. But there was no panic. No cowardice.

  Just professionals waiting for the storm to arrive.

  Alexander closed his eyes and reached inside.

  Electrokinesis responded, flowing from his soul and into the Core. He held it there, contained and controlled, then cycled it throughout his body.

  The power moved through his nervous system like a caffeinated jolt, but sustained.

  His thoughts came into focus with crystal clarity. The exhaustion receded, not gone but manageable. His awareness sharpened, taking in sounds he’d been too drained to notice clearly before. The subtle vibration of the deck beneath him. The rhythm of breathing around the bridge. Even his other powers felt more present, more responsive.

  The Core recycled the energy. Some of it returned as the power looped back through his body and into the Core again. Not all of it. But enough that maintaining it at this intensity was sustainable even with his low reserves and natural recovery.

  Alexander kept the flow gentle. Steady. Ever since discovering this aspect of the Core, how it synergized with Electrokinesis, he’d practiced it. He was hesitant to call it a technique, because he’d come to suspect that the Cultivator’s Core was really just another superpower based on his ignorant concept of what cultivation was.

  The value was obvious. It allowed him to cut through fatigue and pain. In a way, it was as if the combination of Electrokinesis and the Cultivator’s Core formed a battery capable of running his organic systems, bypassing chemical processes and connecting his entire body to nothing short of his Will. So long as he could sustain the power demands.

  He began running through options.

  His own powers first. None of them were capable of reaching across the distance separating Sleipnir from the Integrity. Even if they could, he truly was nearly tapped out. He was perhaps the weakest he’d been since his first day in this crazy version of reality, imprisoned deep beneath the surface. At most he might boost the ship’s ability to maneuver in a pinch once the firing started, but even that would quickly render him unconscious.

  His mind moved to the rest of Grimnir.

  Annie was of little use here, unless they ended up defending against a boarding action. And if they did get to that point, he was confident she could handle whatever the Integrity threw at them.

  He knew Felix had taken his advice and expanded his own repertoire of powers through introductions and farewells on The Nexus. They hadn’t taken the time to discuss his gains yet, but even if they had, he knew none of them would be of use in these circumstances. Talia had also secured several samples of select creatures from the Beastworld, though Felix was hesitant to make use of them.

  Alexander didn’t blame him. The process was too much a reminder of time spent under Dr. Miller’s knife, and Felix understandably preferred absorbing forms through touch.

  Talia’s enchantments were already woven into the ship’s systems. Her Faith Enchanting was perhaps the single power amongst them with the most potential, but she was still developing the basics. She could do nothing beyond what she’d already provided.

  That left Augustus.

  Alexander opened his eyes and looked up at the man. Augustus stood with his arms crossed, expression thoughtful. He’d been quiet since his last question, clearly working through the same tactical problems. He was no stranger to the helplessness of the individual when it came to space warfare.

  And from their discussions, he knew Augustus was itching for a chance to create his second technique.

  “Auggy,” Alexander said.

  Augustus looked down at him with a questioning look.

  “I think this one’s up to you.”

  Augustus frowned. “I can’t make portals large enough for the ship to pass through. Not even with the runes.”

  Alexander shook his head. “Not that. Your shields. “

  Augustus’s frown deepened, considering.

  Alexander continued, voice quiet but clear. “Sleipnir is an entity, so Warden should work.” He paused. “And I doubt you’ll find a better time to innovate your first combat technique than right now.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” Augustus said slowly. “How to manage shields across a battlefield without having to see everything with my own eyes.” He hesitated. “But Sleipnir is just one thing. I don’t see how what I imagined would be more useful than just shielding it like normal.”

  Talia interrupted. “Except Sleipnir isn’t just a singular entity.”

  Augustus turned to look at her.

  “It’s a semi-living machine comprised of thousands of parts,” Talia continued. “Systems. Rooms. Weapons. Armor. Engines. Life support.” She gestured toward the surrounding bulkheads. “Just envision each component as part of the battlefield. Every section of ablative armor as a target for shielding.”

  Augustus’s eyes widened with understanding.

  “Yes,” he said, enthusiasm creeping in. “Yes, that could work.”

  Carmen was watching them now, attention fully focused on the conversation.

  Augustus straightened, his posture changing from relaxed to focused. His eyes moved around the bridge, but Alexander could tell he wasn’t really seeing it anymore. He was seeing something else. How he might reframe the concept of a ship in his own mind just enough to fit the budding idea of a new technique.

  “I’ll need some time to visualize it.”

  Carmen glanced at the display. “You’ve got five minutes to make a difference.”

  Then she activated the ship-wide comms. Her voice carried through every corridor, every compartment, every space where the crew might be working or resting.

  “All hands, this is the Captain. In five minutes we will be engaged in combat. The ship will be performing emergency evasive maneuvers. All personnel are to secure themselves immediately. I repeat, secure yourselves immediately. Bridge out.”

  She switched channels, connecting directly to engineering.

  “Chief, status check. Are all systems at one hundred percent?”

  The Chief Engineer’s gruff voice came through clearly. “Aye, Captain. Reactor stable and engines responsive. All backup systems are green. We’re ready.”

  “Thank you, Chief. Stand by for combat.”

  “Standing by.”

  Carmen closed the channel and leaned back in her chair. Her gaze moved across the bridge, taking in the crew.

  Augustus remained absorbed in thought, eyes closed and standing perfectly still.

  Alexander had created three techniques already, reaching the limit of his current Tier. Blackout had been an accident, at least as far as creating something went. He’d strained his limits, intending to push farther and inflict his power upon more machines than he’d ever done before.

  The name had burst out of him without conscious intent.

  But both Ensoulment and Soul Circuit had been conceptualized, visualized, and very much intended. He understood what the process required.

  Whatever shape Augustus’s new technique took, Alexander was certain it would match the incredible versatility that his power was known for. The man’s love of magic was quite literally what drove him.

  Time continued its inexorable countdown.

  The displays showed the destroyer’s weapons envelope creeping closer. The red cone expanded toward their blue marker, filling more of the tactical screen with each passing second.

  Petra’s voice cut through the tension. “Captain, one minute until we’re within the Integrity’s effective weapons range.”

  Carmen acknowledged with a nod, then activated ship-wide comms again.

  “All hands, one minute to weapons range. If you are not secured, do so now. Bridge out.”

  She cut the transmission and turned her attention to the bridge crew.

  “Yuki,” Carmen said, her voice calm and authoritative, “you have helm authority. Evasive maneuvers at your discretion.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Yuki responded. Her hands shifted on the controls, fingers flexing in preparation.

  “Petra, bring electronic countermeasures online. Full suite.”

  “ECM active, Captain.”

  Carmen’s gaze moved to weapons. “Davis, defensive posture only. Deploy countermeasures as needed, but do not return fire.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Davis confirmed. “Defensive only.”

  Ryan stood beside Carmen’s chair. His presence was steady, supportive. Ready to coordinate damage control the moment it became necessary.

  Silence fell over the bridge. The crew waited.

  The destroyer continued its approach.

  Augustus’s eyes opened.

  “I’m ready,” he said.

  He took a deep breath, preparing himself.

  “Arcane Warden.”

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