Verlin sat in his chamber with his eyes closed. In a few minutes, the spaceship would be leaving the blue star system.
A synthetic voice filled the chamber, broadcast throughout the entire ship.
"Attention all personnel. The vessel will be performing consecutive spacetime teleportation jumps in preparation for arrival at waypoint HD 40307. All inhabitants must remain in their respective chambers and stay stationary for the next ten minutes. Two jumps will occur at five-minute intervals. Do not attempt to move during the teleportation sequence."
The announcement repeated twice, then faded.
Verlin opened his eyes.
Four days had passed.
He'd considered absorbing more geothermal energy before making his move. Extra power for what was coming.
Then he'd decided against it.
Geothermal energy filled his cells differently than solar energy. If he was already saturated with geothermal energy, it might interfere with absorbing the sunlight. He had enough strength already. Better to go in clean.
Verlin stood and moved to the center of his chamber.
He could hear the countdown now. A faint electronic ticking.
Three. Two. One.
The spaceship leaped.
Reality bent around him. No acceleration. No g-force. Just a sudden shift in where he was.
The sensation lasted only a few seconds.
Then it stopped.
Now, they were in a new star system. One with a yellow star.
Five minutes until the second jump.
Before the announcement could come through confirming the successful jump, Verlin's body slammed into the chamber door.
The impact thundered through the surrounding section. For a fraction of a second the reinforced crystalline alloy resisted, and Verlin found himself almost impressed. In his mind he gave credit where it was due. The Draeknith civilization clearly knew how to build things. The door didn't feel like paper. It felt more like plastic.
Then it shattered anyway.
The entire structure exploded outward into the corridor, fragments of crystalline alloy ricocheting off walls and ceilings as the shockwave raced through the passageway beyond.
Outside, the three dark purple constructs were still stationed exactly where they had been ordered.
The Coalition probably believed the constructs could restrain him, or at least slow him down long enough for additional security forces to arrive. They were very wrong.
One of the constructs had barely begun turning toward the noise when Verlin's arm moved.
His backhand connected with the center of its torso.
The construct didn't merely lose its balance. The entire upper portion of its body detonated. Its upper half vanished in a spray of shattered armor and internal components while fractures instantly spread through the rest of its chassis. The force of the strike launched the machine across the corridor and into the opposite wall with enough power to shake the surrounding structure. Cracks spread through the crystalline surfaces and several nearby light fixtures flickered before going dark.
The hallway shook.
Everything in its vicinity rattled.
The construct collapsed in pieces.
Verlin didn't spare it a second glance.
The remaining two constructs were already deploying weapons and broadcasting emergency alerts through the ship's network, but he was moving before either machine could complete the process.
The corridor blurred around him.
He had estimated the distance to the botanical habitat several times over the previous weeks. In a straight line it was approximately five kilometers away. Following the corridors would increase that distance to roughly eight.
Under normal circumstances that distinction would have been meaningless.
He could simply tear through the ship.
The walls wouldn't stop him. Neither would the floors, ceilings, or bulkheads.
But he wasn't sure how the vessel's systems were interconnected. Damaging the wrong section could trigger containment procedures, power failures, or environmental shutdowns. The yellow solar radiation inside that habitat was too important to risk. If anything interfered with it before he arrived, his entire plan could collapse.
So he restrained himself.
At the speed he was allowing himself to move, the journey would still take less than ninety seconds.
Behind him, warning sirens suddenly began screaming throughout the vessel.
"SECURITY ALERT. SECURITY ALERT."
"UNAUTHORIZED CONTAINMENT BREACH DETECTED."
"ALL PERSONNEL REMAIN IN SECURED LOCATIONS."
The sounds of emergency announcements faded as he left the area his chamber was in.
For a moment there was only the sound of blaring alarms and the distant vibrations of massive systems activating throughout the vessel.
Then Verlin rounded a corner.
The corridor ahead was packed with constructs.
Dozens of them.
Most were the familiar dark purple security models that had accompanied him throughout the ship. Interspersed among them, however, were larger black constructs whose armor seemed thicker and whose weapon systems were significantly more substantial.
The entire hallway was blocked.
Verlin's estimate was that there were at least forty machines visible, with more likely positioned further back beyond his line of sight.
The emergency alarm lowered in volume.
A different voice replaced it.
Unlike the synthetic announcement system, this voice belonged to an actual individual.
"Verlin, this is Coalition Security Command."
The voice echoed through hidden speakers.
"You have breached containment protocols and are currently threatening the safety of all personnel aboard this vessel. Stop immediately and no force will be used against you."
Verlin continued running.
The voice continued, "We understand you may be acting under distress. Whatever your objective is, we can discuss it. Please slow down and surrender peacefully."
Penny for their thoughts.
He paid them no attention.
The constructs had already raised their weapons.
Apparently the Coalition wasn't particularly confident in the effectiveness of negotiation either.
The moment Verlin entered engagement range, the entire corridor erupted.
Particle beams flashed through the air.
Dense kinetic projectiles accelerated from magnetic launchers.
Explosive charges detonated against walls and ceilings.
The barrage was intense enough that most biological lifeforms would have been reduced to vapor before taking another step.
Verlin didn't bother targeting individual constructs.
There wasn't time.
He knew If he got past the blockade, the constucts could never catch up to him.
Not in such a relatively confined environment.
His right arm extended forward, shielding his head from the concentrated barrage. His left arm hovered over the dagger hilt protruding from his chest.
The precaution was probably unnecessary.
He doubted any of the projectiles carried enough force to accidentally activate the weapon.
The corridor disappeared beneath his feet.
Projectiles slammed into him continuously.
Most shattered outright.
Armor-piercing rounds fragmented upon impact with his skin, spraying metallic debris in every direction. Particle beams struck his body and dispersed into harmless flashes of light and heat. Explosive impacts washed over him without meaningfully reducing his momentum.
The constructs fared much worse.
Verlin hit the first rank like a freight train.
Machines were launched sideways.
Some spun into walls.
Others collided with neighboring constructs.
Several simply folded apart as thousands of tons of force passed through their frames.
He never slowed.
Never even threw a punch.
The machines were obstacles.
Nothing more.
One black construct attempted to brace itself directly in his path. Massive stabilizers deployed into the floor and locking mechanisms anchored it to the surrounding structure.
For an instant the machine actually managed to resist.
Then the floor beneath it gave way.
The construct, its stabilizers, and several tons of reinforced decking were ripped free and thrown backward into the rest of the defensive formation.
The resulting collision turned the center of the blockade into chaos.
Verlin passed through the wreckage.
Behind him, alarms intensified.
More voices appeared on the communication channels.
Demands.
Warnings.
He ignored all of them.
The Coalition had actually done better than he expected.
Not because they had hurt him.
But because they had delayed him.
As Verlin exited the corridor and entered the next junction, he performed the calculation automatically.
The blockade had cost him approximately two extra seconds.
Two entire seconds.
Under normal circumstances he might have found that amusing.
Right now it was merely annoying.
Verlin accelerated again.
At this point the Coalition appeared to have abandoned the idea of stopping him through direct force. He hadn't encountered another combat formation since the construct blockade. No more firing lines. No more security units. No more attempts at negotiation.
Instead they had switched strategies.
The next bulkhead appeared around a bend in the corridor.
It was massive.
Several meters thick and composed of layered crystalline alloys reinforced with dense metallic frameworks. Emergency locking mechanisms protruded from the surrounding walls, floor, and ceiling, anchoring the barrier directly into the ship's structure.
Verlin crashed through it.
The bulkhead exploded into fragments.
Metal supports twisted apart.
Crystalline shards sprayed through the corridor behind him.
He didn't even slow down.
Another one appeared less than two hundred meters later.
Then another.
Then another.
The Coalition was sealing entire sections of the ship ahead of him, desperately trying to create enough barriers to delay his advance.
Unfortunately for them, barriers only worked if the person encountering them couldn't run through several meters of reinforced alloy without noticing.
The seventh blockade shattered.
Then the eleventh.
Then the sixteenth.
The number continued climbing.
By the time Verlin smashed through the twenty-third bulkhead, he was less than a kilometer from the habitat.
He had long since noticed the drop in temperature, but the corridor beyond the destroyed barrier was noticeably colder.
His latest exhale lingered in front of him.
A faint cloud of vapor drifted through the air before dissipating.
Verlin's eyes narrowed.
The Coalition wasn't simply sealing doors anymore.
They were modifying the environment.
As he continued forward, the temperature dropped further.
Thin layers of frost began appearing along the walls.
Crystalline surfaces that had previously glowed with soft bioluminescence were now coated in shimmering white ice. Frost spread across the floor in branching patterns, and several exposed conduits had become encased in translucent crystalline shells.
The Coalition had likely shut down local heating systems and rerouted cryogenic infrastructure into the surrounding sectors.
It was a reasonable decision.
Albeit not one that would change the outcome.
The cold was affecting him.
He could feel it. But he could also sense the sunlight.
The same way a starving animal reacted to the scent of food. The pull grew stronger with every meter.
Verlin smashed through another bulkhead and immediately saw the habitat door ahead.
Finally.
It was sealed. Locked. Reinforced like everything else on the ship.
He didn't bother looking for the release mechanism. His hand shot forward and wedged itself into the narrow gap between the door and its frame.
Metal groaned.
Locking mechanisms shattered.
The massive door began sliding open despite every system trying to keep it shut.
Then sunlight spilled through the gap.
Yellow sunlight.
Verlin froze.
Warm golden light flooded into the corridor, illuminating the frost-covered walls and drifting clouds of vapor hanging in the air.
For a moment, nothing else mattered.
Not the alarms.
Not the Coalition.
Not the ship.
Just sunlight.
He stepped through the opening.
The habitat stretched before him, filled with trees, vegetation, and carefully maintained ecosystems from distant worlds. Suspended above everything was the artificial star that illuminated the entire chamber.
The instant its light touched him, his body reacted.
The geothermal energy stored within his cells was discarded almost immediately.
Every cell became ravenous.
For eight years he had survived on substitutes.
Now, for the first time since Earth, he was absorbing the energy his body had actually been designed for.
Power flooded into him.
His skin grew warmer.
The cold that had followed him through the corridors vanished.
Cracks spread through the stone-like layer covering parts of his body as dormant systems began awakening.
Verlin closed his eyes.
A minute and fifty seconds.
That was how long it had taken him to reach the habitat.
Longer than expected.
But it didn't matter.
He'd made it.
"Verlin."
A voice suddenly echoed through the habitat.
He opened his eyes.
Thessa.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish from all this carnage."
Verlin looked up at the artificial sun.
His cells were still greedily absorbing its radiation.
"I'm leaving," Verlin said simply.
Thessa's voice came back immediately. "You won't be able to reach an escape pod. And even if you could, they can be remotely shut down. You won't survive in the vacuum of space."
"Previously, perhaps," Verlin replied.
There was a pause.
Thessa's voice changed. No longer authoritative. Now tinged with confusion. "What do you—"
Her sentence cut off abruptly.
Her attention was directed towards the sensory readings. She watched as Verlins biological energy readings which had already been considered absurd by Coalition standards, climb. Not gradually. Dramatically.
When she spoke again, the confusion was gone. Replaced by astonishment.
"You... you are feeding off the solar radiation."
Verlin didn't reply. He simply continued absorbing.
The yellow light poured into him. His cells drank it in desperately. Eight years of geothermal substitution meant nothing compared to this.
Then the artificial sun shut down completely.
The entire habitat fell into a state of darkness.
Verlin opened his eyes. A faint red glow flickered behind his irises.
He was stronger now. Far stronger than before. Several orders of magnitude more powerful.
But he still wasn't sure if it was enough.
He could feel ambient solar radiation lingering in the surroundings. Residual energy in the air. He continued absorbing it.
The vegetation around him began to wither.
Visible to the naked eye. Spreading. Trees that had been green moments before turned brown and brittle. Plants withered. The entire ecosystem collapsed as Verlin drained the energy from everything around him.
By the time he was done, the stone-like texture covering his skin had completely disappeared.
His skin returned to its normal appearance. Tan. Healthy. Alive.
His feet lifted off the ground.
He was levitating.
Verlin slightly clenched his left hand.
A shockwave erupted from his closed fist.
Everything in his immediate surroundings was displaced by the movement. Trees were uprooted and thrown across the habitat. The crystalline walls surrounding the chamber developed deep fissures, spreading outward like a spider web.
"Not bad," Verlin muttered to himself.
Previously, relying on geothermal energy, he'd had a fraction of a billionth of his original strength.
Now, though not at full power, he could display about a hundred thousandth of it.
That was beyond plenty.
Thessa's voice came through the intercom again.
This time, there was no disguising the apprehension in her tone.
"You... what are you."
The sensory system had long since reached its maximum detectable energy reading. Verlin didn't even need to listen to the intercom anymore. He could directly listen. Could pinpoint her exact location on the ship with perfect clarity.
She was in the command center. fifteen decks up. Approximately twenty eight kilometers away.
He could reach her in seconds if he wanted to.
"What's the matter, Thessa?" Verlin said, and his voice carried directly through the ship without needing any communication system. "You sound almost terrified. I thought we were friends."
Verlin waited for a response.
Thessa remained silent.
Her fear was palpable even through the communication system. She had nothing to say. No threats. No negotiations. No words that could change what was about to happen.
Seeing that she was done talking, Verlin's eyes peered through the walls of the ship.
In the far distance, beyond the vessel's hull, he could see it.
The yellow star.
Burning. Waiting. Calling to him.
Without hesitation, he moved.
Outside the habitat, an entire armada of constructs had assembled. Hundreds of weapons were trained on the entrance. Defensive formations stretched through multiple corridors. Emergency containment fields waited to activate the instant he emerged.
Even with geothermal energy in his cells, they wouldn't have been much of a threat.
Now, with solar radiation flooding through his body, they were nothing.
Verlin continued his flight forward. Standing vertically. Not punching. Not making any extra movements.
Just moving.
His body collided with the habitat door.
It imploded.
The massive crystalline barrier shattered and collapsed inward under the force of his passage. He didn't slow. Didn't acknowledge what he'd destroyed.
He simply continued forward.
Directly through the constructs.
The machines never fired.
Most never even saw him move.
Any construct unfortunate enough to be directly in his path was shattered into pieces. Not from a punch. Not from a deliberate attack. Simply from the force of his body passing through them at relativistic speeds.
He broke past the blockade.
Through the next corridor.
Through another wall.
Another.
Another.
The ship's interior was a blur of crystalline material and metal frameworks. Bulkheads that had taken him seconds to crash through before now offered no resistance at all.
He flew through dozens of walls.
Two kilometers of distance covered in pure forward momentum.
The ship's structure groaned and collapsed in his wake. Entire sections depressurized. Systems failed. Alarms that had long since stopped making sense to anyone aboard screamed one final time before going silent.
Then he was through.
He exited the ship.
Entered the vacuum of space.
Verlin hung suspended in the void, the massive Coalition vessel receding behind him.
The yellow star burned ahead of him, growing closer with each passing microsecond.
The entire journey—from the habitat door to exiting the ship—had taken less than ten milliseconds.
Behind him, the Talon's Edge remained in orbit around the yellow star system.