Starborn Legacy

Chapter 8: Into the Machine

The Nomad groaned under the Syndicate frigate’s barrage. Alarms screamed across the bridge, sparks flying from overhead conduits. Every blast rattled Tim’s bones, as though the ship itself were crying out

And then he realized—

It was.

The artifact’s pulse had spread beyond his chest, threading through his arms, his veins, into the metal railing beneath his grip. His vision blurred, overlaid with shimmering symbols and wireframes. The ship’s systems flared in his mind like constellations—engines, shields, weapons, all alive with hidden pathways.

“Tim—what are you doing?” Elara’s voice cut through the haze.

“I… I can feel it,” he whispered. “The ship. It’s inside my head.”

Rhys barked, “Whatever you’re doing, stop before you fry my vessel.”

But it was too late. The artifact surged, a tidal wave of alien energy that swallowed Tim whole. His breath caught as his consciousness extended, stretching past flesh and bone into circuits and steel.

The Nomad became his body. He felt the thrum of the engines like a heartbeat, the crackle of shields like a second skin. The frigate’s cannons were claws raking at him, the void itself pressing against his hull.

And for the first time, he wasn’t powerless.

Tim’s eyes glowed with unearthly light as he gripped the railing tighter. “Hang on.”

The Nomad screamed forward, engines igniting with impossible force. Milo nearly fell out of his chair. “What the—? I didn’t push her that hard!”

“Because I did,” Tim gasped, though his lips barely moved.

The hunters swarmed in, but Tim moved the ship with inhuman precision. He wove through debris like it was instinct, flipping the vessel sideways to slice between two asteroid shards. A pursuing drone slammed into rock and exploded in a blinding flare.

Jax whooped from his station. “Bloody hell, mate, you’re flying her like she’s an extension of your arm!”

Elara’s eyes darted to Tim, wide with both awe and terror. “No… not flying. He’s linked.”

The frigate loomed closer, its cannons charging a blast that could shear the Nomad in two. Tim’s vision lit with alien runes, pathways urging him toward choices no human could make. He felt the ship’s pulse align with his own heartbeat.

Defend. Strike. Survive.

He raised his hand as though wielding a weapon. The Nomad responded. Energy surged from its starboard cannons—an eruption of blue fire, brighter than anything in the ship’s arsenal.

The blast tore through the void, slicing across the frigate’s shields. The Syndicate vessel reeled, its barrier sparking with ruptures. For the first time, the predator looked wounded.

Gasps filled the bridge. Milo’s jaw dropped. “That… that wasn’t possible. We don’t have that kind of output!”

Elara whispered, “He’s amplifying the ship’s systems. Channeling the artifact through its core.”

Tim staggered, the connection burning hotter, heavier. His body trembled as though his blood were molten. The Nomad responded to his every thought, but each command cost him pieces of himself.

The frigate steadied, its cannons glowing with fury. More hunters poured from its belly, wings spread wide.

Tim’s vision blurred again, sweat dripping into his eyes. He could push harder, unleash more—but something deep in his bones warned him that if he did, there would be no coming back.

Rhys’s voice thundered through the haze. “Stand down, Watt! You’ll kill yourself—and my ship along with you!”

But the artifact pulsed, drowning out everything.

Elara grabbed his arm, grounding him with her touch. “Tim! Listen to me. If you burn out here, the Syndicate wins anyway. You have to let go.”

Her voice cut through the static, just enough. With a shuddering breath, Tim released the connection.

The light in his chest dimmed. The Nomad sagged back into ordinary flight, engines straining but no longer godlike. Tim collapsed to his knees, coughing violently, smoke curling from his skin as though he’d been scorched from within.

The frigate held its distance now, wary after the sudden counterattack. Its hunters circled but didn’t close in. The serpent emblem glowed ominous red, a silent promise: This isn’t over.

The Syndicate ship withdrew into the debris, fading into the void.

The bridge exhaled as one.

Milo wiped sweat from his brow. “Well, I’ll be damned. They actually backed off.”

Jax leaned over the railing, grinning despite the chaos. “Not bad, Tim. You scared the bloody Syndicate.”

Tim slumped against the wall, chest heaving. “I didn’t scare them. I just showed them what they want even more.”

Elara knelt beside him, scanning his vitals. “And they won’t stop now. Not until they’ve torn you apart to see what’s inside.”

Rhys loomed above them, arms folded. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was cold steel. “Then we stay ahead of them. And we start figuring out exactly what kind of weapon I’ve let aboard my ship.”

Tim closed his eyes, the artifact’s dim pulse echoing in the silence.

Not a scavenger. Not just a man.

Something else—and the galaxy knew it.