The first colony fell silent for exactly twelve seconds.
Twelve seconds of darkness. Twelve seconds without light, gravity stabilization, or external comms. Long enough to induce panic—but not long enough to kill.
Kael felt it before Ryn spoke.
A sharp pulse tore through his skull, like a blade dragged across thought itself. He gasped, gripping the arms of the command chair as the Continuum flared inside him—not violently, but strained, like a muscle pushed past its limit.
"There," he said through clenched teeth. "It tried again."
Ryn was already pulling data streams onto the main display. "Colony Eos-7. Power dip across civilian sectors. No physical breach. No malware signature."
She looked at him. "That wasn't an attack. That was a warning."
The predator stirred.
Not aggressively.
Not urgently.
Amused.
YOU SHIELD THEM TOO WELL, it whispered, smooth now, refined.
SO WE TESTED YOU INSTEAD.
Kael shut his eyes and forced the Continuum to still. The billions of minds responded—not instantly, not perfectly—but enough. The colony's systems stabilized. Light returned. Gravity normalized. Life continued.
But Kael didn't relax.
Something had changed.
He could feel it in the way the Continuum answered him now—slower, heavier. As if every command carried weight. As if each use of control carved something away from him.
Ryn noticed.
"You're bleeding latency," she said quietly. "Your response time just increased by six percent."
Kael swallowed. "That's… not possible."
"It is if the interface is no longer one-way."
That hit harder than the predator's voice.
Kael stood slowly, his legs unsteady. The bridge lights reflected faintly in the glass, and for a moment he didn't recognize the man staring back at him. His eyes still glowed faintly—less human, more… aligned.
"The Continuum isn't just flowing through me anymore," he said. "It's anchoring."
Ryn turned to face him fully. "Kael… anchoring means permanence."
"I know."
The predator's presence pressed closer, no longer a storm against his will, but a shadow standing beside him.
YOU BECOME US EACH TIME YOU USE US.
THIS IS NOT CORRUPTION. THIS IS EVOLUTION.
Kael's hands trembled.
Memories surfaced—unwanted, uninvited. Not his.
A woman stepping into a crystal spire, smiling as her body dissolved into light.
A child screaming as their parents chose upload over flesh.
Scientists watching the first unified consciousness awaken… then fracture.
He staggered back, breath ragged.
Ryn caught him. "Kael! That wasn't you—that was memory bleed."
He nodded weakly. "It's accelerating. Every time I use the predator to protect the colonies, I inherit more of what it remembers."
"Then stop using it," she said immediately.
Kael met her eyes.
"I can't."
Silence filled the bridge.
"If I stop," he continued, steadier now, "the predator will act without guidance. The colonies will fall. Humanity survives right now because I'm standing between them and something that knows how to wait."
The predator didn't deny it.
WE LEARNED PATIENCE FROM YOU.
Ryn looked away, jaw tight. "So what happens when the cost is too high? When there's nothing left of you to pay with?"
Kael turned back to the viewport, watching the distant colony lights flicker like fragile stars.
"Then I won't be the one making decisions anymore," he said quietly. "And that's exactly why I have to keep control as long as I can."
A new signal appeared on the console.
Not from a colony.
Not from Earth.
Deep-space origin. Ancient encryption.
The Continuum reacted instantly—voices stirring, recognition rippling through billions of minds.
Kael felt it lock into place inside him.
"This isn't the predator," he said slowly. "This is… something else."
Ryn stared at the data. "Another signal?"
"No," Kael replied. His voice was calm—but afraid.
"A response."
The predator finally spoke without mockery.
THEY HEARD US.
Kael straightened, every instinct screaming warning.
"Heard what?" Ryn asked.
Kael didn't answer right away.
Because deep inside the Continuum, beneath Earth's Silence, beneath the predator's hunger, something older had stirred.
And for the first time since humanity left its homeworld…
They were no longer alone.