The pod shuddered violently, alarms blaring as the hull groaned under stress. Elias's hands were white around the controls, knuckles pressed into the worn grips. Sparks rained across the cockpit, illuminating the narrow space in erratic bursts.
"Hull integrity at 64%! Pressure dropping in rear compartment!" Sentinel shouted.
Elias gritted his teeth. "I know! I see it! Now what?"
From the viewport, the void outside was warping. The shadow entity pulsed rhythmically, angular and dark, hovering at a distance that seemed impossible. Yet, every flicker of its movement corresponded precisely with the pulses in the pod's hull. It was studying him, predicting him… learning from him.
Then the neural interface flared. A sudden, violent pulse shot through Elias's mind. The fragment of the Protocol inside him reacted instantly, synchronizing partially with his neurons. His vision shimmered, and for a terrifying instant, he saw through the eyes of something else—something ancient, machine-like, and terrifyingly intelligent.
Fleets of ships exploded in alien skies. Cities burned in seconds. Soldiers screamed as massive machines leveled everything in sight. The images weren't memories—they were warnings. Previews of what could happen if he failed.
"Elias… neural overload imminent!" Sentinel's fractured voice urged.
He clenched his jaw, gripping the harness with one hand and pressing the other to the manual override. He couldn't allow the Protocol to take control—not now, not ever. The visions of destruction were real enough without giving the shadow a chance to manipulate him further.
He pressed a sequence into the override console, diverting all remaining power to the pod's shields and auxiliary thrusters. The pod lurched violently, spinning in a desperate barrel roll through the void. Alarms screamed, lights flickered, and the hull creaked as if protesting the stress.
The shadow pulsed again, synchronizing with the pod's neural interface. This time, the pulse carried intent—not just probing, but trying to communicate. Elias felt it burrow deep into his mind, tugging at his thoughts, testing the boundaries of control.
"I'm not yours," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. "You hear me? I'm not yours."
The pod jolted violently. One of the hull panels near the cockpit cracked, and a hiss of escaping atmosphere made his chest tighten. He slapped the manual seal into place, stabilizing the breach temporarily.
"Hull breach critical," Sentinel warned. "External pressure exceeding pod tolerances."
Elias exhaled sharply, sweat dripping down the inside of his helmet. He was running out of options—and fast. The shadow pulsed again, its presence nearly tangible now, pressing against the pod's hull and the neural interface like a predator against a cage.
He slammed the thrusters forward, spinning the pod through a narrow corridor of asteroids. Lasers screamed past, ricocheting off jagged surfaces. Sparks and debris flew in every direction, each impact rattling the fragile craft.
Suddenly, another pulse surged through his mind. This one wasn't just images—it was voices. Mechanized, layered, incomprehensible at first, but gradually forming coherent words:
"Carrier… awaken… Protocol incomplete… must respond…"
Elias staggered in the harness, staggering against the thrusters. "What… what do you want from me?" he whispered.
"Unknown," Sentinel replied. "Signal contains advanced communication protocols. Attempted neural contact exceeds known parameters."
The pod lurched again. The hull near the breach panel groaned loudly, cracks spider-webbing across the metal. Pressure readings spiked. Oxygen flow dropped. His chest felt tight.
Elias's eyes scanned the readouts. One choice remained: he could either continue evasive maneuvers and risk the pod collapsing, or attempt a manual override of the neural interface—a gamble to wrest control of the Protocol fragment within him.
He swallowed hard. "Then we gamble."
He pressed his hand firmly to the neural console. Static sparks shot across the panel as the pod shuddered violently. A cold, mechanical resonance echoed in his mind—the Protocol fragment reacting violently to his touch. Images of alien ships, burning worlds, and screaming soldiers surged into him. Pain lanced through his skull.
"Control… failing…" Sentinel warned.
Elias clenched his teeth, forcing the neural firewall to its limits. He shouted through gritted teeth, "You don't control me! I'm the pilot, not you!"
A pulse of pure light erupted from the console. The pod lurched violently, thrusters straining. Outside the viewport, the shadow entity recoiled for the first time. The pulse of energy from Elias's manual override created a temporary gap in the shadow's control.
He gasped for air, sweat stinging his eyes. The pod was damaged, systems offline in critical areas, but it held—barely.
"Partial success," Sentinel reported, voice trembling. "Neural synchronization disrupted. Shadow influence minimized temporarily."
Elias slumped in the harness, chest heaving. For the first time since the Aegis-9, he felt the tiniest shred of relief. But he knew it wouldn't last. The shadow would recover. The Protocol would continue to test him.
Then the pod's sensors flickered. A faint, unfamiliar energy signature appeared. It wasn't the shadow, the drones, or anything he recognized.
"Sentinel… what now?" he whispered.
"Unknown energy signature approaching. Likely related to Protocol," the AI replied. "Caution: interaction imminent."
Elias's stomach dropped. He had survived drones, shadows, neural invasions, and a nearly destroyed pod—but whatever was coming next… it wasn't going to be simple.
The unknown pulse surged again, this time stronger, filling his mind with a resonance that felt alive. The Protocol wasn't just a fragment inside him anymore—it was reaching out.