I look at our small ship — the Phoenix.
It stands in the vast hangar of Synchron so quietly and modestly that it almost seems as if it drifted here by accident and is now hoping no one inside this giant will notice it.
The hangar lives its own life.
Streams of light move high above us.
Massive structures shift silently.
Platforms glide through the air like enormous chess pieces.
The post-biological inhabitants of Ironheart move between the levels almost weightlessly — as if gravity, to them, is merely a suggestion rather than a law of physics.
And in the middle of all that—
my ship.
Small.
Stubborn.
And, judging by the attention it's getting, probably very important to the coming mission.
I watch it for a few seconds.
And almost automatically think:
Well…
looks like we've gotten ourselves into trouble again.
A field begins to form around the Phoenix.
At first I notice only a faint distortion in the air.
As if someone has slightly overheated the fabric of space.
Then the space itself begins to thicken.
Slowly.
Densely.
Like fog that suddenly decides to become solid.
And from this viscous emptiness a structure begins to grow.
A sarcophagus.
It materializes layer by layer.
Plates of light.
A skeletal frame.
Geometry that briefly twists my sense of perspective.
This is what technology looks like when it has long since stopped pretending to be understandable.
As if some invisible engineer is printing the structure directly into the vacuum on a colossal three-dimensional printer.
I watch it for a few seconds.
Then I sigh quietly.
"Please tell me you're not about to turn my ship into an art installation."
Kelith appears beside me.
She makes no unnecessary movements.
No rush.
She simply looks at me with the calm gaze of something far beyond human—
and something that has already made the decision for all of us.
I cross my arms.
"What exactly are you doing to our ship?"
"Upgrading it," she replies.
No drama.
No ceremony.
The way someone might casually mention replacing a filter in the life-support system.
I glance at the growing sarcophagus.
"And what are the chances that after this upgrade it will still be… you know… my ship?"
"High."
A pause.
"Theoretically."
Great.
That's incredibly reassuring.
"It must become our trump card in the coming battle," she adds.
The sarcophagus around the Phoenix ignites with threads of light.
The lights begin to move across the structure's surface.
Pulsing.
Flowing.
Sliding along the panels like something alive beneath the skin.
I blink.
Because I suddenly realize where I've seen that before.
The same glowing lines shine beneath Kelith's skin.
And beneath the skin of the other Ironheart beings.
Living circuitry.
A nervous system made of light.
Instinctively I glance down at my own hands.
And an unpleasant thought slips into my mind.
What if they decided to upgrade me as well?
My fingers move.
Skin normal.
Bones in place.
I flex my palm.
So far, so good.
I smirk.
"Well. I'm relieved they haven't taken me apart for spare parts. Yet."
Kelith does not react.
Sometimes I can't tell—
whether she ignores my jokes…
or simply processes them too slowly.
I stare at my hands for another second.
I am still Axiom-126.
A version without an instruction manual.
And with a warranty that expired roughly…
one hundred and twenty-five incarnations ago.
"Look," Kelith says.
She moves her hand through the air.
The space obeys.
A massive external-view display opens before us.
And for a moment I forget how to breathe.
Before me lies the home of Ironheart.
A Dyson sphere completely enclosing a neutron star.
A vast black surface against the star-filled void.
But something unusual is happening across it.
Thousands of lights are moving across the surface.
At first I think they are transports.
Then I realize—
no.
It's construction.
Gigantic factories are printing ships directly on the surface of the sphere.
Like a three-dimensional printer.
Except the size of a planet.
Frames grow out of light.
Then armor forms over them.
Seconds pass — and a finished ship already hangs in space.
I whistle quietly.
"Subtle."
"These are strike craft equipped with Rift Sigil charges," Kelith explains.
I watch the stream of newborn ships.
"How many are there?"
"As many as necessary."
A very diplomatic way of saying: too many to count.
"They will attack first," she continues.
"They will breach the space around the target and activate the charges."
I can already picture it.
Tiny ships.
A jump.
And then space itself tearing open as if the universe has cracked.
Then she says:
"And then we arrive."
I slowly turn toward her.
"Where exactly?"
"Orbit of Nexus Prime."
My stomach tightens unpleasantly.
"Where you successfully tested the Rift Sigil technology."
I grimace.
"Which is exactly why you're going," she replies calmly.
Kelith studies me for another second.
"Prepare for battle, Axiom."
A pause.
"The time has come."
And then she simply leaves.
No dramatic speech.
No "the fate of the galaxy depends on you."
Very much her style.
I remain standing before the observation screen.
My heart begins to pound.
Too fast.
The matrices in my body try to stabilize the rhythm.
They fail.
I look at the squad.
Liara stands nearby.
Watching the ships being built.
Her fingers are slightly clenched.
She is afraid.
And doing everything she can to hide it.
Sergeant Kel checks the squad.
Mira Vossen remains silent.
Tarek Noll studies the tactical projection.
No one says it out loud.
But we all understand the same thing.
This might be our last battle.
I shrug.
"Well…"
Everyone turns toward me.
"If we're going to die," I continue, "at least we'll do it in an upgraded ship."
Kel snorts quietly.
Liara nudges me with her elbow.
"Very inspiring."
"I try."
I look again at the Phoenix inside the glowing sarcophagus.
Ironheart technology flows across its hull.
As if the ship is being given a new nervous system.
A new brain.
And perhaps…
a new personality.
The matrices in my body grant me something close to immortality.
Almost.
Which means—
I can afford the luxury of taking risks.
I speak quietly to the ship.
"All right, old friend…"
"Let's try to survive one more bad idea."
And honestly…
this is far from the worst one I've ever gotten myself into.
At that moment the sarcophagus around the Phoenix flares brighter.
The lighting of the hangar shifts color.
Somewhere deep inside Synchron, a combat alert signal activates.
And suddenly new information flows through the network.
The strike craft carrying Rift Sigil charges…
have already begun launching.
I slowly raise my head.
And realize one unpleasant fact.
The battle has begun.
And our ship is still inside the sarcophagus.
And I am not entirely sure…
that after this upgrade it will even let me pilot it anymore.
**
The dome around the Phoenix dissolves quickly.
Like ice thrown into boiling water.
At first, cracks of light race across its surface — thin as spider silk.
They slide along the dome, intersect, flare.
For a second it looks as if someone is sketching lightning across the glass of reality.
Then the shell simply melts.
It doesn't explode.
It doesn't shatter.
It vanishes.
As if space itself suddenly decides it no longer feels like holding it together.
A second later there is only emptiness around us.
Just our ship.
But…
not quite the same ship anymore.
I exhale slowly.
Thin threads of light run along the hull of the Phoenix.
Ironheart technology.
They glow calmly.
Evenly.
Almost lazily.
Every now and then a pulse travels along the entire hull — soft and smooth.
Like a signal moving through a nerve fiber.
I blink.
Because that is exactly what living systems look like.
The ship…
feels as if it has grown a nervous system.
The thought sends a small chill down my spine.
I let out a quiet grunt.
"I hope they at least made it indestructible."
A pause.
Then I add,
"Or at least a little less explosive than usual."
Silence.
The squad watches the ship.
Someone almost smiles.
Someone doesn't.
Humor behaves strangely in moments like this.
Either it saves the nervous system…
or reminds everyone why it started breaking in the first place.
I clap my hands once.
The sound is sharp. Practical.
"All right. Move out. Combat stations."
Sergeant Kel reacts instantly.
"Squad, with me."
He asks no questions.
He simply turns and leads the soldiers toward the open hatch of the Phoenix.
I watch the squad disappear inside the ship.
Then I feel movement beside me.
Liara.
She walks next to me.
Silent.
I sense her before I see her.
The matrix network inside my body picks up her breathing.
Her heart rhythm.
The micro-tension in her muscles.
She is calm.
But not completely.
I would describe it as controlled fear.
A good state for combat.
We climb the ramp.
And suddenly a strange sensation appears.
As if the ship…
is watching.
Not with eyes.
But with systems.
As if it's checking something.
Making sure the right person has come aboard.
I address the ship in my mind.
"Easy, old friend."
A pause.
"It's still me."
Another pause.
Then I add silently,
"And yes… I'm not thrilled about the new interior either."
There is no answer, of course.
But for a moment a soft pulse of light runs along the hull.
I stop.
Liara looks at me.
"What?"
I shake my head.
"Nothing."
But an unpleasant thought appears.
What if the upgrade gave the ship a personality?
Fantastic.
I don't always manage people very well.
Now I have a ship with opinions.
We enter the cockpit.
The seats are waiting.
I lower myself into mine.
The restraint system closes around my shoulders.
The material is cold.
I'm not entirely sure why.
Maybe to remind you that space doesn't care about you.
I close my eyes.
A flood of data immediately bursts into my mind.
The matrix network.
This is what someone else's war looks like when it arrives directly inside your brain.
First come flashes.
Then trajectories.
Then hundreds of signals.
Bomber craft.
Rift Sigils.
They launch in waves.
Hundreds.
Then hundreds more.
Then more again.
I feel the analytical matrices trying to sort the flow.
But the scale is too large.
Too many events.
Too fast.
The tactical network unfolds inside my mind.
Orbit of Nexus Prime.
And there…
is already hell.
Some bombers vanish almost immediately.
Intercepts.
Energy strikes.
Antimatter.
Some manage to activate their charges.
And then it happens.
Space tears.
Not exactly an explosion.
More like—
a rip in the fabric of reality.
As if someone grabbed the universe by its edges and pulled in opposite directions.
I open my eyes.
The cockpit suddenly feels too quiet.
"Well…" I say.
My voice comes out slightly hoarse.
"Looks like they started without us."
Liara studies the tactical display.
"This is only the first wave."
I nod.
Of course.
The first wave always serves one purpose.
To see
how many of you survive the second.
At that moment a light vibration passes through the hull.
I feel it in my back.
My fingers.
Even my teeth.
The ship is waking up.
The carrier's voice echoes through the systems.
Synchron begins the pre-launch countdown.
"Three…"
I feel the space around the ship starting to compress.
Jump technology.
It always feels the same.
As if reality itself is being grabbed with two hands
and gently twisted.
"Two…"
My heart accelerates.
The matrices try to stabilize the pulse.
They fail.
Fine.
Let it pound.
Means it's still working.
I look at the squad.
Kel checks the systems.
Mira holds her weapon across her knees.
Tarek smiles.
Not a pleasant smile.
That kind of smile appears when someone understands
things are about to get very ugly.
I look at Liara.
"All right."
She turns toward me.
"The plan is simple."
Kel snorts quietly.
I continue.
"We jump into the fight…"
"Use the Rift Sigil tech…"
"And win."
Silence.
Tarek coughs.
"Very detailed plan, Captain."
"I try."
The ship begins to tremble.
Space ahead of us folds inward.
I look at the lights of the battle around Nexus Prime.
Too many.
Too bright.
Too chaotic.
And suddenly…
deep inside the matrix network, a signal appears.
Very faint.
Very familiar.
I freeze.
Just for a second.
And realize something unpleasant.
That signal…
does not belong to Ironheart.
I exhale slowly.
"I really hope that part of the plan actually exists…"
And in the next second Synchron jumps with the Phoenix inside.
Space tears open.
The ship plunges into the battle.
And the signal in the matrix network grows slightly stronger.
As if someone out there…
is glad that I've finally returned.