Youri rose to his feet without another word.
The last traces of resistance drained from his body as the Flow State finally settled in. The noise inside his head flattened. Emotions dimmed to distant abstractions. Fear, guilt, doubt—all reduced to data points without weight.
He was aware.
But he did not feel.
Halvek watched him carefully, searching for tremors, hesitation, anything out of alignment. Youri stood perfectly still, posture straight, breathing regulated. His heart rate stabilized within optimal combat parameters. Neural activity synced cleanly with the helmet's interface.
"Vitals are nominal," one of the technicians muttered, checking the readouts. "Flow State confirmed."
Halvek exhaled through his nose. "Good."
Aurelion said nothing. His eyes lingered on Youri for half a second longer than protocol required—then he turned sharply and began walking toward the far end of the dock.
"Move out," he ordered.
The hangar came alive.
Massive docking clamps disengaged with thunderous metallic cracks. Warning lights flared amber, then green. Deck crews scattered into designated safe zones as the towering shape of Aurelion's flagship loomed into full view.
The Sovereign Spear.
Aurelion's command vessel was a monument to military pragmatism—long, angular, bristling with weapon arrays and reinforced plating. It wasn't beautiful. It was experienced.
Youri followed in silence as a shuttle detached from the side of the dock, its ramp lowering with a hydraulic whine. Inside waited a small escort unit—black-armored troopers bearing the insignia of the God Unit Division. Their visors reflected Youri's helmet back at him, faceless and mirrored.
He boarded without hesitation.
The ramp sealed shut behind him.
The shuttle launched.
Acceleration pressed briefly against his spine as the craft disengaged from the station and arced toward the Sovereign Spear. Through the viewport, the massive flagship expanded to fill his vision, docking lights blinking in controlled patterns.
Youri's HUD populated with navigational data, tactical overlays, encrypted mission threads streaming silently across the periphery of his vision. He processed it all effortlessly.
Volar system.
Primary objective: suppress rebel Orbital Defense Grid.
Secondary objective: neutralize Volar Orbiton strike fleets.
Tertiary objective: planetary purge
Casualty projections scrolled briefly—then were automatically minimized by Flow State filters.
Numbers without meaning.
The shuttle docked.
The ramp opened.
Aurelion was waiting on the other side.
"Follow me," he said.
They moved through the inner corridors of the Sovereign Spear, deeper into the ship's core. Scuffed decks. Exposed reinforcement struts. Crews moving with practiced efficiency, nodding to Aurelion as he passed.
Some of them glanced at Youri.
At the helmet.
At the insignia.
Their expressions tightened.
Fear. Resentment. Awe.
Youri noted it without reaction.
They reached the bridge.
Aurelion stepped onto the command platform, his presence snapping the room to attention. Holographic star maps rotated above the central table, Volar's planetary system highlighted in stark crimson.
"Status," Aurelion said.
"Fleet formation complete," a bridge officer reported. "Escort destroyers holding perimeter. leap calculations finalized."
Another voice cut in. "Long-range scans confirm rebel mobilization. Volar Orbiton forces are deploying early—looks like they know we're coming."
Aurelion's jaw set. "Of course they do."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward a recessed platform at the edge of the bridge.
"Pilot D7," he said. "Your unit is secured in launch bay three. You'll deploy once we breach Volar's outer defense sphere."
Youri inclined his head. "Understood."
Aurelion studied him again. Flow State was obvious now—the stillness, the absence of hesitation.
"You won't engage antimatter," Aurelion added, his voice low. "Not unless I authorize it personally."
"Affirmative," Youri replied instantly.
Aurelion held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.
"Jump in ten," the navigator called.
The bridge lights dimmed.
Space folded.
The stars stretched into white threads—and then snapped back into place.
They had arrived.
Volar hung ahead of them, a massive blue-green world wreathed in orbital infrastructure. Rings of stations, shipyards, and defense platforms encircled the planet like armored halos. Energy shields shimmered faintly across several installations.
And moving to intercept—
The rebel fleet.
Warships surged forward in tight formations—sleek, aggressive vessels painted in Volar's distinctive cobalt markings. Fighters swarmed ahead of them like angry insects, weapons powering up.
"Enemy contact," tactical announced. "Multiple vectors."
Aurelion didn't hesitate. "All ships, engage. Defensive screen first—keep them off the Spear."
The void erupted.
Beams of coherent light lanced through space. Missiles streaked outward, contrails burning briefly before vanishing. Explosions blossomed silently as ships collided, shields flaring and failing.
Youri watched from the launch bay as the battle unfolded across his HUD.
Data streamed.
Threats categorized.
Kill probabilities calculated.
"Pilot D7," a voice came through the channel. "Prepare for launch."
Youri stepped forward.
The launch bay doors opened, revealing the Altopereh.
Antimatter containment readings spiked—then stabilized, forcibly throttled by command locks.
Alternate weapon systems initialized.
Plasma rounds: online.
Missile arrays: armed.
Energy blades: synchronized.
Youri entered the control cradle at the Altopereh's core. The interface sealed around him, neural links locking into place with precise, almost gentle pressure.
Connection established.
The Altopereh woke.
Youri's consciousness expanded—not emotionally, but spatially. He perceived vectors, distances, velocities as naturally as breathing. The battlefield unfolded around him in three dimensions.
"Launch," Aurelion ordered.
The restraints disengaged.
The Altopereh surged forward, blasting out of the bay and into open space.