Feel the ship, little wolf, Kade projects, his mental voice a roaring, unyielding drumbeat. Feel the thrusters. Feel the math. We are the Shield.
Through the bond, I feel Asher’s consciousness expanding, connecting directly to the ship’s navigation computer. He is drowning in the data, the cold, perfect logic of the Formless trying to overwrite his messy, inefficient humanity. But he holds on. He anchors to us.
The path is clear, Asher projects, his mental voice tight. I’m drawing the blind spots.
The ship dives through the swirling storm of lunar dust. The hull groans, the metal screaming under the physical stress of the microscopic glass shredding the exterior. The temperature in the cabin spikes. The lights flicker and die, leaving us in the harsh, red glow of the emergency strips.
