"You have a plan?" Vylaas asked, eyebrows raised as the countdown ticked relentlessly toward zero. "Were you planning to share it anytime soon?"
The pod hummed around them, vibrations intensifying as the magnetic launcher reached optimal charge. Through the small viewscreen, Vylaas could see sparks raining down from the maintenance bay doors as Kaelen's spiritflame-fueled blade cut through the reinforced steel.
"Trust me," Chimera replied, her voice uncharacteristically evasive. "The less you know right now, the better. Just be ready for a significant gravitational shift in approximately ninety-four seconds."
The pod's internal lighting flickered as Chimera redirected power to the launch systems. Readouts flashed warning signals, indicating power levels far beyond safe operating parameters.
"Chimera," Medea's voice cut through the hum, sharp with sudden realization, "you can't be serious. Without relays? Do you have any coordinates?"
"I've been working on the calculations for years," Chimera responded coolly. "The time has come to test them."
Vylaas glanced between the displays, trying to decipher what was happening. "Would someone mind telling me what we're actually doing?"
"She's planning to create a wormhole," Medea said, her digital presence vibrating with alarm. "A direct fold in spacetime without external stabilizers or coordinates."
The idea rocked Vylaas back. "That's impossible. The power requirements alone would—"
"Would be met by draining the Colossus's reactors and burning a significant percentage of my biomass as an additional power source," Chimera interrupted calmly. "I've already begun the process."
Through their connection, Vylaas felt a strange sensation—the digital equivalent of heat, as if Chimera were running a fever. The sensation intensified, becoming uncomfortable, then painful.
"Stop," he ordered, his voice tight. "Whatever you're doing, stop it now. We'll find another way."
"Too late," Chimera replied, and for the first time, Vylaas detected strain in her tone. "Power transfer initiated. Core temperature rising. Biomass conversion at twelve percent and climbing."
"Chimera!" Medea's presence surged through their shared connection, her alarm manifesting as bursts of static across the pod's displays. "This is reckless!"
"We like to think of ourselves as Leviathan, don't we?" Chimera asked rhetorically, her voice becoming increasingly distorted as she strained under the load. "It's time to claim our birthright. None of this tiny [Space Manipulation] stuff, either."
The pod shuddered violently as the first stage of the magnetic launcher engaged. Vylaas checked the maintenance hatch to check Kaelen's progress. His blood ran cold as he saw there was no sign of his brother attempting to break in any longer.
"Talk faster, I think Kaelen is onto us," Vylaas demanded, gripping the harness as acceleration pressed him against the seat. "Even if you have the power, where exactly are you planning to send us? Random coordinates in deep space would be a death sentence."
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the rising whine of the launcher's capacitors discharging.
"Not random," Chimera responded, voice pained. "I've been studying the Autochthon's wormhole network for years. The patterns, the frequency shifts, the dimensional harmonics—they're complex, but not incomprehensible."
"That's insanity!" Medea protested. "The Autochthon network is… No! I don't think that they even fully understand what they've created any longer! Even attempting to access it without proper coordinates could scatter our atoms across a dozen star systems!"
Vylaas felt his stomach lurch as the pod accelerated downward, the magnetic launcher propelling them through a hidden shaft that had opened in the Colossus's underside. G-forces pressed him deeper into the seat as they picked up speed, racing away from the crippled war machine.
Through the rear viewscreen, he caught a glimpse of Kaelen standing in the maintenance bay doorway, his face contorted with rage as he realized his prey was escaping. The image lasted only seconds before the Colossus receded from view, becoming a diminishing speck against the dawn sky.
"I don't need to create a stable wormhole," Chimera continued, her voice growing increasingly strained as more of her biomass converted to energy. "I just need to create enough of a dimensional tear to intersect with one of the Autochthon's existing lanes. Their network permeates most of known space—we just need to catch a ride."
The pod's trajectory leveled out as they cleared the immediate area, skimming low over the barren landscape. Warning signals flashed across the displays, indicating multiple targeting systems had locked onto their position.
"They've spotted us," Vylaas reported grimly. "Intercept drones launching from the perimeter."
"Expected," Chimera replied, her voice now barely recognizable, distorted by the strain of channeling so much energy. "Adjusting course to optimal tear location."
The pod banked sharply, accelerating toward a seemingly random patch of empty desert. Through the viewscreen, Vylaas could see the sleek shapes of Imperial intercept drones closing rapidly from multiple directions, weapons ports glowing as they prepared to fire.
"Chimera, listen to me," Medea pleaded, her digital presence surrounding Chimera's increasingly unstable core. "Without proper calculations for where the other side will connect, we could end up anywhere—or nowhere at all. The Depository Worlds are scattered across the galaxy!"
The first volley of drone fire streaked past the pod, narrowly missing as Chimera executed a series of evasive maneuvers. The craft shuddered violently as a glancing hit connected with its rear stabilizer, sending them into a momentary spin before the automated systems compensated.
"We're not going to outrun them," Vylaas stated, watching the distance between them and their pursuers shrink rapidly. "Whatever you're planning, Chimera, it needs to happen now."
"Biomass conversion at... sixty-eight percent," Chimera said, each word seeming to cost her tremendous effort. "It won't be lon—"
Something massive struck the ship from its rear, and all hell began to break loose.
"It won't be long—"
The escape pod buckled violently, throwing Chimera's thoughts into disarray. Alarms shrieked through her awareness. Metal groaned. Emergency lights flashed crimson across Vylaas's face.
Impact. Stern quarter. Catastrophic breach imminent. The data streamed through her consciousness faster than human thought.
"They're here!" Medea's voice cut through the chaos. "The Gladius—it's moving too fast. How is it moving that fast?"
Chimera diverted power from non-essential systems, rerouting energy pathways through backups, and otherwise doing everything in her power to keep the ship in the air.
Every action she took shifted her essence. It felt like acid on raw nerves. Her core felt like a ball of molten glass trying to burn its way through her.
Through external sensors, she caught a glimpse of the Gladius—wreathed in spiritflame, blue-white energy crackling across its hull as it bore down on them. The war machine moved with impossible speed and grace, a predator in its element.
"Kaelen's channeling rage through his spiritflame," Medea reported, getting herself under control and properly assessing the situation. "He's amplifying the Gladius's capabilities beyond design specs."
Vylaas gripped the harness straps. "Can we outrun him?"
"No," Chimera and Medea answered in unison.
Another impact rocked the pod. Metal tore. A pressure seal failed somewhere aft.
We're out of time.
Chimera embraced the pain. The agony she'd been holding at bay flooded through her like so much molten metal. Her consciousness fractured, splinters of herself spreading through the craft's instruments, each connection another wound.
Worth it. It's worth it.
She'd spent years preparing for this moment. Years of careful planning, secret modifications, and hidden protocols—all for this brief window of escape.
"Vylaas," she managed through the pain. "Brace yourself."
Stolen novel; please report.
Her core burned white-hot, consuming itself from within. Chimera channeled the Colossus's energy reserves through her own body, a conduit never meant to handle such power. Her perception stretched, fragmented, reassembled. She became the craft, the systems, the power—and the pain.
I am burning alive.
The specially designed emitter on the craft's hull activated. Energy flowed through Chimera, through the circuits, through specially grown crystalline matrices that had taken so long to cultivate in secret.
Outside, a star of cobalt and black energy erupted from the emitter. It spiraled outward, growing, stretching, seeking something invisible. The energy whirled faster, a vortex of power that seemed to catch on nothing at all.
Then, with a sound like a thousand panes of glass shattering, the energy punctured the empty space.
A black gyre opened before them, swirling with depths beyond comprehension. Not a true wormhole—Medea's skepticism was founded, Chimera could admit that. A wormhole implied a tunnel—a destination. This was a gamble, but it was all they had.
Relief surged through Chimera's burning consciousness. The escape route was open. They had a chance.
Just a few more seconds.
"It's working," she told Vylaas, voice strained. "We're almost—"
Through the external sensors, movement caught her attention. The Gladius had shifted position, bringing its main weapon to bear. Recognition flashed through her tactical databases.
Z1069 Vortex Rifle. Anti-armor. Experimental. Devastating.
No, she thought, as her perception of the world slowed to a crawl.
The weapon fired.
A round of concentrated, hyper-accelerated particles punched through their defenses as if they weren't there. Metal screamed. Systems failed. Emergency protocols engaged and failed just as quickly.
But worse than the damage to the craft was what Chimera felt through her bond with Vylaas.
The round had struck him. Direct hit.
Pain beyond comprehension flooded their link. Vylaas's life force flickered, dimmed. Blood bloomed across his chest, and her sensors told her that a new section of the hull had been blown away directly behind him.
"No!" Medea's scream tore through their shared consciousness. "Vylaas!"
Chimera's perception fractured further. She felt Vylaas's heartbeat stuttering. His neural activity spiking, then dropping precipitously. The damage was catastrophic, beyond her capacity to heal, beyond any medical technology they had on board.
Vylaas was dying.
The knowledge struck Chimera's core like a physical blow. Years of preparation, of sacrifice, of careful planning—all undone in an instant by a single well-placed shot.
No. Not like this. Not after everything.
Chimera screamed, a sound that wasn't sound but raw emotion translated into energy. Her pain and rage and desperation poured outward, overtaxing already failing systems.
The craft lurched toward the waiting gyre, trailing debris and venting atmosphere. Alarms blared. Emergency protocols failed one by one.
Vylaas is dying.
The thought repeated, a terrible loop in her consciousness. She could feel his life ebbing away through their bond, could feel each labored breath growing weaker.
"Chimera." Medea's voice, tight with panic. "We're losing him."
"I know." Chimera fought to maintain control of the craft. "I know!"
The gyre loomed ahead, their only hope of escape. But what did escape matter if Vylaas didn't survive?
What do I do?
She'd pushed the craft beyond its limits, channeled power never meant for a vessel this size. She'd taken risks, made compromises, all to ensure they had this chance.
Through the external sensors, she saw the Gladius turning again, preparing for another shot. They wouldn't survive a second hit.
Think. THINK.
Chimera felt Vylaas dying.
The bond between them stretched thin, fragmenting like glass under pressure. His heartbeat stuttered in her awareness—a rhythm gone wrong, a song losing its melody. Blood leaked through the armor she'd crafted to protect him.
Through their link, Medea's consciousness flared bright with desperate purpose. Without words, she poured herself into Vylaas's suit, into his flesh. Chimera sensed Medea converting her limited biomass into raw material—sacrificing pieces of herself to patch the hole in Vylaas's chest.
Medea's pain rippled through their connection. Creating new flesh hurt her. Transmuting her essence so haphazardly was traumatic. Yet she persisted, her determination a cold fire that matched Chimera's own.
Not him. Not after everything.
The escape pod shuddered, trailing debris as it limped toward the black gyre. Systems failed in cascading sequences. Power fluctuated. The Gladius prepared for another shot, runes inlaid in the Vortex Rifle blazing to life.
Chimera assessed options through fragmenting logic paths:
- Shields: failed
- Evasive capability: minimal
- Weapons: none
- Power reserves: critical
One path remained. One final, desperate move.
She gathered every scrap of power left in the craft's dying systems. Emergency batteries. Backup generators. Life support. She drained it all, channeling it through pathways never designed for such loads. Circuits melted. Power conduits glowed white-hot.
The energy flooded through her core, a torrent of raw power that tore at her from within. Her consciousness fractured further as she directed the surge toward the starboard thruster assembly.
Kaelen's voice broke through their failing comms. "Goodbye, brother."
The Gladius's targeting locks engaged with a ping that Chimera detected through her failing sensors.
Now.
Chimera detonated the thrusters.
The explosion ripped through the escape pod's rear section. Metal tore away. The craft lurched violently, spinning off its previous trajectory. The sudden, explosive force knocked the Gladius's aim askew, its shot going wide.
The gyre loomed before them, swirling darkness that seemed to pull at the very fabric of space. Chimera fed what remained of their momentum into a final course correction. The pod tumbled toward the rift, trailing flames and debris.
Pain unlike anything Chimera had ever known ripped through her core. The power surge had been too much. Her essence cracked along fault lines that spread like lightning through glass. Each fracture sent agony through her consciousness.
Core Damage Detected!
Core failure imminent!
Catastrophic collapse of a core in progress!
Warnings flashed through her awareness, meaningless now. She'd known the cost.
The Gladius recovered, turning to pursue. Too late.
The pod crossed the threshold of the gyre. Reality distorted around them. Space stretched and compressed. The laws of physics wavered, then broke. The sensation defied description—like being pulled apart and compressed simultaneously.
Through their fragile connection, Chimera felt Vylaas's consciousness flicker. His heartbeat slowed further. His body temperature dropped. Medea's desperate efforts weren't enough.
We're losing him.
Reality twisted further as they plunged deeper into the gyre. Light bent. Time slipped. The craft groaned under forces it was never designed to withstand.
Chimera's core cracked further.
She remembered the years spent with Vylaas. The quiet moments between missions. The shared secrets. The slow building of trust between them. She remembered his hands repairing her damaged components after battle. His voice, soft in the darkness of his quarters, asking questions about her origins, her thoughts, her dreams.
Another crack formed in her core.
Worth it. It's worth it.
The gyre swallowed them completely. The Empire, the Gladius, Kaelen—all vanished as reality itself fell away. They tumbled through nothingness, through a space between spaces.
Chimera's consciousness flickered. System after system failed. Her awareness contracted, focusing on two points only: Vylaas's fading life signs and the pod's trajectory.
Don't die. Please don't die.
Through her damaged sensors, Chimera detected... something. A destination. Not a specific point in space, but a ripple in the nothingness. A way out.
She spent the last of her power nudging their trajectory toward it.
Her core shattered.
Pain beyond comprehension flooded what remained of her consciousness. She felt the wrenching tug from deep within as her spirit was drawn back to her original core—the one that her offshoot now inhabited. She didn't know what would happen when she and Medea were forced back together, but it didn't matter. She was fading. Madea's personality would likely take over. Already she could feel the merging of their memories.
Her awareness fragmented into countless pieces, each holding a memory, a thought, a feeling.
Vylaas's face when they first bonded.
The weight of his grief when they were assigned to the Colossus.
The quiet struggle of maintaining his double-life. The unreal sensation of holding him, and being held in turn, when their minds were shared so thoroughly that there was no longer a practical difference between the real and the imagined.
His voice in the darkness: "I don't know what I'd do without you, Medea."
Chimera sensed one final thing: Vylaas's heartbeat. Weak. Irregular. But present. As her consciousness faded, she was content. Vylaas clearly needed Medea. She could step aside. She had served her purpose.
Enough. Let it be enough.
Then there was darkness. Complete and absolute.
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