Chapter 19: The Signal's Source
The Alpha-9 reached the signal's coordinates, a void where no stars shone. The screens showed nothing but darkness, but the signal was deafening, its rhythm a heartbeat that shook the ship. Lyra stood in the command module, her crew at their stations, their faces tense but focused. Kir's absence was a wound, but they'd pushed through, driven by her resolve.
"Sensors are blind," Theo reported, his voice steady now. "But something's out there. Energy readings are off the charts."
Ren checked the engines, his prosthetic arm barely functional. "We're at minimum power. Whatever we do, it's now or never."
Kir's data pad, now in Lyra's hands, flashed with the medallion's patterns, synced to the signal. She'd spent hours analyzing it, piecing together the Kain Protocol's purpose: a system to control the network, to bind its minds or break its hold. But it needed her-her DNA, her memories, her choice.
"Lyra," Kir's voice echoed in her mind, not the signal but a memory. "The network's alive. Respect it, but don't trust it."
She nodded, as if he were there. "Scan for the core," she ordered. "It's close."
The screens flickered, and an image appeared: a massive structure, not a crystal but a web of light and shadow, pulsing like a living entity. It hung in the void, surrounded by swirls of distorted space-the anomaly Ren would later describe in chapter 21.
"There it is," Lyra whispered, the signal roaring in her head. You are home. Complete us.
Theo's hands tightened on the controls. "That's no station. It's... alive."
Ren's jaw clenched. "Orders, Lyra?"
She hesitated, the medallion's words burning: Bind or Break. The network offered eternity, a galaxy of minds united. But she saw Avis's empty eyes, Kir's crushed body, the child on Alpha-7. Eternity wasn't worth their freedom.
"We go in," she said, her voice firm. "I'll use the Kain Protocol to access the core. If I can't control it, we destroy it."
Theo glanced at her, his grin returning, faint but real. "Now that's a plan I can get behind."
Ren nodded, his eyes meeting hers. "For Kir."
The Alpha-9 surged forward, its engines straining, as the web loomed closer. The signal became a voice, not her mother's but her own, echoing: You are the seed. Choose.
Lyra gripped the console, the medallion's patterns glowing on the screen. She was ready-or as ready as she'd ever be. The network thought it owned her. It was wrong.
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