The sterile, quiet air of the bridge was suddenly thick with a tension that felt more crushing than the miles of water above them. The name, Vindicator, hung between Ren and Anya like a death sentence. It was one of GAMA's new Archon-class pursuit cruisers, a wolf pack leader designed for deep-zone hunting.
"The ship itself isn't the problem," Anya said, her fingers flying across her console, pulling up the vessel's command roster. Her face grew grim. "The ship's commander is a veteran Aether Master, but the special detachment assigned to this mission… the one with tactical authority over the search…" She brought up a file on the main screen. It was a face Ren knew all too well.
"Eva Rostova," she breathed. "She's leading the 'Stalker' squad, an elite team of GAMA's best trackers and combat specialists. She's been given full authority to find you. She's not just a hunter, Ren; she's been put in charge of the entire hunt."
The distinction was crucial. Rostova wasn't the captain of the ship, but she was the master of the chase.
"Based on her current speed and the sensitivity of the Vindicator's sensor suite, she will detect our low-power signature in… three hours," Anya calculated, her voice tight. "Maybe four."
They were trapped. Too slow to run, too weak to fight a fully-equipped GAMA cruiser.
A cold resolve settled over Ren. Rostova was not a fool. She would be meticulous. "I need to know her strategy. Her search pattern."
"Her communications will be on a sealed quantum channel," Anya countered.
"I have a way," Ren said. He closed his eyes, focusing inward on the faint, throbbing scar on his soul.
"Boy, this is madness!" Zephyrion's voice was a sharp warning. "She is not of the Pagoda! There is no resonant link to follow!"
Her will is focused entirely on me, Ren thought back, his focus unwavering. That is the thread.
It was a staggering gamble. He pushed his consciousness into the spiritual wound, seeking not the cold silence of the Void, but the fiery, disciplined obsession of his former commander. He found it. A taut, invisible line of connection forged by her relentless will to find him. He pulled on the thread.
The world shattered and reformed.
He was on the bridge of the Vindicator. He saw through the eyes of a young Stalker squad member, his hands gripping a sensor console. He saw the tactical display: a detailed map of the Tempest Sea, divided into a meticulous search grid. And he saw her.
Captain Rostova stood before the main viewscreen, her arms crossed, her presence radiating an aura of absolute, unshakable authority that belied her Apprentice rank. She was giving orders not to the ship's crew, but to her own squad of specialists.
"The target is not an anomaly," Rostova's voice was cold steel, addressing her team. "He is a needle in a haystack the size of an ocean. But he is still just a needle. Lieutenant," she said, addressing the man whose eyes Ren was borrowing, "the initial energy release from Melas triggered a series of submarine quakes in Sector Gamma-9. The Aetheric resonance there will be chaotic. A perfect place to hide a damaged vessel. Advise the ship's captain to focus the deep-resonance pulse there. If he is hiding in the noise, we will find the echo of his silence."
The vision faded, and Ren gasped, stumbling back, the brief connection leaving him drained and dizzy.
"Ren!" Anya cried, rushing to his side.
"I'm alright," he said, steadying himself. He knew what he had to do. Rostova's logic was flawless. She would find them. But he now knew exactly where she was going to be looking.
"Anya," he said, a new, daring plan forming in his mind. "How long would it take you to get the weapon systems of one of the deep-sea drones operational?"
Anya blinked. "A drone? Its Aetheric power is negligible…"
"I don't need its power," Ren interrupted, a cold, dangerous light in his eyes. "I just need its voice."
He looked at the tactical map. Rostova was hunting for the echo of his silence. He was about to give her a roar.