The monitor goes white, then resolves into a ghostly outside view of the hull. Sabien hangs in the image like a spirit made of iron, while the predator wound blooms into a tearing, isobaric rupture.
The ship answers with binary protocol, a cold volley of ordered signs and anti-signs. Tiny dark motes, like dead dots, are driven out of the breach and stamp the rupture inward.
The Weapons Master
Hold it. Let the harmonics take the shove.
Sabien’s frame drinks the backlash, vibrating hard as the pressure washes across him without rebounding. The rack room walls groan, but the shock passes through the ghost-link instead of tearing the seal apart.
The Priest
There. The breach is widening. Keep the channel steady.
On the monitor, the predator hull caves farther, its wound now a usable opening instead of a blind wound. The Weapons Master turns from the vault seam toward the display, realizing the inner seal and the outer kill are starting to line up.
✓ Quest Accepted
Ground the backlash into the battery-farm system