The silence in the Starseed’s cockpit was no longer that of a tomb or a void. It was the quiet of a deep, still pool, its surface reflecting immense depths. Roewi sat in the pilot’s chair, not with the rigid tension of a god holding back chaos, nor the desperate grip of a boy clinging to control. He was relaxed, his posture one of effortless balance. The frantic energy that had once crackled around him was gone, replaced by a profound, humming stillness. He was the eye of the hurricane, and the hurricane was his to command.
He became aware of the Starseed’s critical systems, not through displays or alarms, but as an extension of his own body. A power conduit was fraying here, a navigation buffer was corrupted there. With a thought that was part Vextor’s precision and part his own intent,
