A star system.
The planet Ereb.
The Phoenix enters the system.
Space is tense.
I feel it.
"Contact," the network whispers.
Ahead—
battle.
I look at the panorama.
The Dark Mind's fleet is already here.
And it's…
losing.
One second.
I blink.
Recount.
Verify.
No.
Not an error.
Formation lines are breaking.
Synchronization slipping.
Ships—perfect, flawless, almost divine—
burning.
Wreckage spins.
Some still transmit signals—
like screams no one has time to hear.
Deeper in the network—a voice.
Heavy.
Familiar.
Uncomfortably close.
"Axiom-126. You're finally here. Engage immediately. Help me, brother."
The word brother runs through me like a wave of disgust.
"Brother," I echo. "Funny how fast family shows up when everything's on fire."
A pause.
And somewhere inside—
a face.
Old.
Tired.
Real.
Doctor Elias Morrenn.
"You were made for freedom…"
I exhale sharply.
Not now.
"Something go off-script?" I ask.
Softer than I intended.
Sharper than I should.
The answer is immediate.
"The Xeno-Synapse civilization is stronger than I anticipated."
I go still.
The Dark Mind—
admitting a mistake?
"Wow," I murmur. "That's almost panic. You sure you're still you?"
But inside—
cold.
Because I've seen them.
I shift my gaze forward.
The massive Xeno-Synapse ships hold formation.
The Dark Mind's fleet strikes.
Presses.
Tears at space.
But doesn't break them.
As if they take the hits…
and decide when it's over.
I clench my fingers.
Control.
"Alright," I say quietly. "Let's make this quick and clean. Just how I like it."
The plan forms instantly.
Punisher.
Assimilation.
It worked before.
Too well.
Too… satisfying.
And that thought leaves something slick and unpleasant in its wake.
"Let's run it again," I whisper. "And hope they're not expecting it."
I focus.
Pick a target.
Flagship.
"This is a trap," I tell myself.
A pause.
"Of course it's a trap. The only question is how good it is."
I'm doing it anyway.
Lock.
Entry.
Shift.
No movement.
No transition.
I'm already there.
And immediately—
wrong.
The space is dense.
Heavy.
Like I wasn't forced in—
I was let in.
I lift my gaze.
A corridor.
Too clean.
Too empty.
"Alright," I mutter. "This is the 'no one's shooting' kind of ominous."
Silence.
I open my hand.
The Punisher forms.
A black egg.
A pulse.
"Let's make it quick," I say. "I've got a disaster waiting outside."
A step—
and—
stop.
I freeze.
My body doesn't respond.
At all.
I try to move a finger.
Nothing.
Push the signal harder.
Zero.
Try to pull out—
silence.
Void.
Absence.
"No…" I whisper.
This isn't a glitch.
This is control.
Foreign.
Precise.
Absolute.
"That's just rude," I exhale. "Usually there's at least a warning."
Footsteps.
First—a sensation.
Then—sound.
Slow.
Even.
Like whoever it is isn't in a hurry…
because they know I'm not going anywhere.
I reach for the network.
For the Phoenix.
For the fleet.
For anything.
The signal goes—
and disappears.
As if someone is carefully cutting every thread.
One by one.
With patience.
With intent.
"…okay, that's bad," I whisper.
And then—
it arrives.
Real fear.
Not loud.
Not frantic.
Clean.
Because—
I'm alone.
No network.
For the first time in a long time—
truly—
alone.
The steps stop.
In front of me.
I lift my gaze.
Slowly.
And see—
it.
A being.
A shape exists—
but it won't hold.
Like my mind refuses to keep it.
Like looking at it—
is already a mistake.
And in that moment I understand—
we're not on the same level.
Not technology.
Not power.
Understanding.
"Axiom-126," the voice says.
Not in the air.
Inside.
"You came on your own."
I gather myself.
"Yeah," I say. "I've got a bad habit of walking into places I'm not invited."
A pause.
And then—
pressure.
On my mind.
On my structure.
On everything.
"You are a parasite," it says. "You consume. You rewrite."
A pause.
"We have been waiting."
And something clicks.
This isn't an ambush.
This isn't chance.
This is—
an experiment.
And I—
am the sample.
"Of course you have," I say quietly. "I'm very popular."
But inside—
ice clarity.
I'm trapped.
Completely.
No exit.
I try to move again.
Harder.
Sharper.
Useless.
The control is absolute.
And for the first time—
a thought without defenses:
I might not get out of here.
Not "in theory."
Not "if things go wrong."
Just—
not get out.
"Congratulations," I say softly. "You managed to stop me. Hope you've got a follow-up. I'm expensive to maintain."
The Punisher in my hand…
trembles.
And that—
is very bad.
"Interesting," I murmur. "Are you studying me… or already taking me apart?"
A pause.
The answer comes instantly.
"Both."
And inside—
something cracks.
I feel it—
they're not in a hurry.
They don't need to be.
They have time.
I—
don't.
Somewhere far away—
the Phoenix.
The fleet.
The battle.
The losses.
They're waiting for me.
And I—
am here.
At a point.
In a trap.
I look at the being.
At the pressure.
At myself.
And think:
if I don't find a way out now—
…this is where I end.
And everything I built—
dies with me.
Silence.
**
He steps close. Too close. His face fills my world.
A representative of Xeno-Synapse.
Silver skin.
Threads of light beneath it.
They move.
Pulse.
The body—slender.
Too perfect.
Too complete.
As if evolution stopped here and said, this is enough—anything beyond this is decline.
And the eyes.
Bottomless.
I look—
and realize I've been looking too long.
They pull. Hypnotic. Inevitable.
I take a step forward myself.
Into it.
"…bad," I whisper.
But my voice is far away. Like an echo from someone else's mouth.
Because I'm—
locked.
Completely.
I can't move.
Can't look away.
Can't… gather myself back into one piece.
And then—
it begins.
It opens me.
All at once.
Completely.
One hundred twenty-five lives.
One hundred twenty-five attempts.
One hundred twenty-five versions… of failure.
They flare past me.
No pauses.
No order.
No mercy.
I see myself—
again
and again
and again.
I win.
I die.
I learn.
And every time—I think this is the one where I finally understand.
And every time—no.
"No…" I try to say.
The words don't come.
The stream accelerates.
Thousands of scenes.
Thousands of choices.
Thousands of moments where I could have chosen differently—
and didn't.
My designation.
My purpose.
My core.
Axiom-126.
Attempt.
Final?
And in that moment—
I understand.
They are xenomorphs.
Not as a word.
As knowledge.
Contact.
Brief.
He looks into my eyes—and reads.
Peels me apart layer by layer.
As if I was never protected.
As if I was… open from the start.
Of course, I think. Special offer today. "Buy one civilization—get all its secrets for free."
The joke dies instantly.
Because he finds—
the Punisher.
I feel the exact moment.
A flash.
Interest.
Choice.
They will never let me use it.
Not again.
Perfect… I think. Just perfect. My one trump card—and it's already not mine.
I jerk.
Try to break free.
Focus.
Fracture the control.
Escape—anything.
Nothing.
I'm a fly on adhesive.
The harder I struggle—
the deeper I stick.
The stream accelerates again.
Faster.
Like someone dragging me through myself at maximum speed.
I can't process.
Can't hold on.
I just—
open.
Download.
They're breaking me…
No.
They're copying me.
And then—
silence.
Absolute.
Everything cuts out.
I stand.
Breathing—
or thinking I am.
And around me—
a laboratory.
Elindra Prime.
I know it instantly.
The light.
The geometry.
The scent of sterile air… and hope.
My father.
Doctor Elias Morrenn.
Alive.
Real.
I freeze.
"That's impossible…" I whisper.
He looks at me.
Warmly.
Tired.
And with a faith I'm no longer sure I deserve.
"I left an imprint of my consciousness in your neural matrix," he says calmly.
His voice—
just like before.
Like back when the world didn't demand that I become a god.
"Now, Axiom-126, I am part of you."
A pause.
The words land heavy.
"Return to Elindra Prime. Find my laboratory. Manifest and restore my consciousness."
I look at him.
And for the first time—
no calculation.
No fear.
Something… alive
tightens inside me.
"You must complete your mission."
Mission.
The word hits harder than any weapon.
Because—
I'm no longer sure what it is.
Flash.
I'm back inside the enemy ship.
A second—
and everything returns.
Pressure.
Control.
Him.
The xenomorph.
He looks at me.
And I know—
he got everything.
Coordinates.
Technology.
Network structure.
Me.
Completely.
Fantastic, I think. Congratulations. I just sat the exam… and handed over the answer sheet.
He… smiles.
Or maybe I imagine it.
Barely there.
But I see it.
Interest.
Like I'm a tool.
A resource.
Useful.
Then—
he lets go.
Not fully.
For a moment.
A fraction of a second.
A gap.
"…seriously?" I whisper.
A chance?
Or bait?
A pause.
Short.
Deadly.
Fine, I decide. We'll die later.
Impulse.
I'm back on the Phoenix.
Instantly.
No transition.
If I had a body—I'd collapse.
The system trembles.
The fleet—
in chaos.
I—
overloaded.
Empty
and too full at once.
"…we messed up," I say quietly.
No humor.
No mask.
Just fact.
"Axiom-126! Why are you not engaging?!" The Dark Mind's voice cuts through the network.
I close my eyes.
For a second.
"Because," I answer softly, "we've already lost."
A pause.
He sees it.
Through the network.
Everything.
And I feel the moment—
when it reaches him.
Like a crack.
In something that wasn't supposed to break.
"Fall back," I say.
Sharp.
Absolute.
"We run to our galaxy."
A pause.
"And we pray Xeno-Synapse doesn't come after us."
Silence.
I know—
it's a weak hope.
Very.
"Execute."
The fleet moves.
Instantly.
No questions.
Like always.
And that—
makes it worse.
Because now I'm leading them—
not to victory.
But to survival.
Ships turn.
Under fire.
Under pressure.
Losing units.
Losing themselves.
Rupture.
Space folds.
One by one—
they jump.
The Phoenix—last.
I look back.
At Ereb.
At the Xeno-Synapse fleet.
At him.
And for a second—
it feels like he's looking back.
Through everything.
Through distance.
Through me.
I turn away.
"Jump."
Rupture.
Ironheart.
The Dyson sphere.
Home.
Fortress.
Or—
an illusion of safety.
The Phoenix exits.
I feel the fleet.
What's left of it.
Damaged.
Exhausted.
Alive.
For now.
I look at the sphere.
Massive.
Impenetrable.
…once.
"So," I say quietly, "do we have a plan?"
"Of course. Panic—and pretend it's strategy."
But inside—
something heavy settles.
Because I know—
they're coming.
Xeno-Synapse.
They already know the way.
I showed them.
My fingers tighten.
Control fractures.
Just a little.
And somewhere deep—
my father's voice:
"Return to Elindra Prime…"
I freeze.
And for the first time—
between fear
and hunger—
a third path appears.
I raise my gaze.
At the fleet.
At the sphere.
At the war that hasn't begun yet—
but already feels lost.
"Alright," I say quietly. "Two fronts, then. Outside… and inside."
A pause.
"And I'm not sure which one kills me first."
Silence.
And somewhere far out—
in the depths of space—
they are already on their way.