The triumphant relief of escaping the snare lasted for less than three seconds.
It evaporated into cold dread as the Star-Seeker cruiser decloaked, a wall of dark, sigil-etched metal filling their viewport.
The six scout ships that had pursued them now fell into a disciplined escort formation around their parent vessel. The jaws of the trap had closed.
"Eva…" Bolt began, his voice a low growl, the strain of his earlier psychic exertion still weighing heavily on him.
"I see it," she cut him off, her voice dangerously calm. Her hands moved over the console, pulling up tactical data.
"It's a 'Devotion'-class cruiser. Heavy armor, advanced psionic shielding… its primary energy cannon can crack a planetary crust."
Her gaze didn't waver from the screen. "We can't fight it, and we can't outrun it."
The situation was absolute. There were no clever asteroid fields to hide in, no gravitic wells to slingshot around.
There was only the imposing presence of the cruiser, blocking their path, radiating an aura of calm, inevitable power.
Then, a request for communication chimed through the bridge. Not a demand, but a formal, almost serene, invitation. After a tense, silent glance at Bolt, Eva accepted the hail.
The main viewport flickered, replaced by the image of the cruiser's bridge. It was spartan, functional, adorned with the same ancient Canid sigil of dominion Bolt had seen in his vision.
In the command chair sat a Canid officer, a striking female with fur the color of polished obsidian and eyes that burned with a piercing, intelligent light.
She was calm, composed, and her posture bespoke a level of authority that was absolute.
She ignored Eva completely. Her gaze was fixed solely on Bolt's transformed figure.
"The Anomaly," she said, her voice smooth and resonant, carrying an unnerving lack of malice.
It was the voice of a being utterly convinced of their own righteousness.
"Lord Valerius is aware of your burgeoning abilities. Your interference in the Great Unifying is… noted. An unexpected harmonic, but one that can be corrected."
Bolt felt a surge of defiance, the Ahna'sara flaring protectively within him. "My name is Bolt."
The commander offered a slight, dismissive tilt of her head.
"Names are temporary. Purpose is eternal. Lord Valerius does not wish to destroy a vessel of such unique Canid potential. Your power, though raw and misguided, resonates with the ancient currents. It must be properly attuned, for the glory of the Primal Mandate."
While she spoke, Bolt held the Focusing Sphere, extending his senses, trying to read her intent.
He found no deceit, no trickery. He found only a vast, deep well of unshakable faith.
This commander, this zealot, truly believed she was offering him salvation, a chance to join the winning side of destiny.
That unwavering conviction was more terrifying than any open hostility.
"Surrender your vessel and yourself," the commander continued, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"You will be escorted to a place of true understanding. There, you will learn your proper role in the glorious age that is dawning for our people."
"And my friend?" Bolt growled, gesturing towards Eva.
For the first time, the commander's eyes flickered towards Eva, a flicker of something almost like pity.
"The Terran is an irrelevance. She will be… dealt with. Her discordant presence will no longer be needed to confuse your path."
Eva's hand tightened on the controls. Bolt's own hands clenched into massive, clawed fists.
"You have sixty standard seconds to power down your remaining systems," the commander stated coolly.
"Your compliance is expected. Your resistance… is irrelevant." Her image blinked out, replaced once more by the terrifying view of her cruiser, its weapon ports glowing with quiet patience.
"Dealt with," Eva whispered, her voice like ice. "That's their 'true understanding'?"
"They see you as a distraction from my 'true purpose'," Bolt snarled.
"They're fanatics, Eva. Surrender isn't an option."
"Fighting isn't either," she countered, her mind racing.
"We're out of tricks, Bolt. The ship is barely holding together."
The countdown began on their tactical display: 50 seconds… 49…
Bolt closed his eyes again, pushing his senses out, desperately searching for anything, any advantage.
He felt the cold certainty of the cruiser, the fanatical devotion of its crew… and something else.
Something in the nebula itself. A build-up. An instability.
"Eva," he said suddenly, his eyes snapping open. "There! That dense patch of ghostly green gas, to our starboard!"
Eva's eyes darted to the sensor readings for that region.
"It's a Class-7 energy storm! Unstable! Flying in there would be like trying to navigate a lightning bolt!"
"The Star-Seekers are avoiding it," Bolt pressed.
"Their psionic shielding is strong, but maybe not against that kind of raw, chaotic energy. It's too unpredictable."
The countdown hit 30 seconds.
"What are you thinking?" Eva asked, her gaze flicking from the screen, to Bolt, to the rapidly approaching timer.
"I'm thinking," Bolt said, a wild, desperate glimmer in his eyes, "that their trap taught us something. Predictability is a cage."
Eva stared at the brewing, ghostly green tempest. It was insane. It was suicide. But it was also… a chance. A one-in-a-million chance.
The countdown hit 15 seconds. The cruiser's main cannon began to glow with a terrifying intensity.
"I hope you trust me," Eva said, a grim smile touching her lips.
"Always," Bolt rumbled.
With ten seconds to spare, Eva ignored the surrender ultimatum.
She slammed her good hand down on the thruster controls, turning the nose of the battered Nyxwing not away from the Star-Seeker cruiser, but directly, suicidally, towards the heart of the raging, chaotic energy storm.