Reborn as a Spaceship

We couldn't just leave. Not yet.

Not with NeuroGenesis still hovering over Lynn and Kel's family like a drawn blade. If we disappeared now, they'd bear the consequences. That kind of guilt didn't wash off. Somehow, we had to negotiate a deal, stall for time, or bluff our way into something resembling safety.

Wayfarer's idea was simple in theory but reckless in execution: deploy our leftover jump buoys across the system, scattering like breadcrumbs in deep space. The result? We could jump unpredictably, slipping between targets before NeuroGenesis could lock us down.

Inside, I tracked the crew's return through internal sensors. T'lish met them at the docking port, practically vibrating with excitement. Her voice bounced over the comms. "You're going to love this. Come on, don't just stand there!"

The crew stumbled aboard, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, walking through the corridors like tourists in a cathedral made of bone and starlight. Bioluminescent veins pulsed gently along the walls, responding to their proximity. The air itself had a hum, alive with latent power.

Stewie stepped in cautiously, eyes darting around. "Are… are these walls breathing?"

"They are," T'lish said proudly, grinning over her shoulder. "Welcome to Lazarus' new skin."

On the bridge, Kel was the first to speak, as usual. "We leave you alone for a few weeks, and suddenly you've had a growth spurt, a new wardrobe, and a midlife crisis. What are you now, a sports ship?"

"More like a temple with skin," Mira murmured, placing a cautious hand on one of the glowing support arches.

Lynn, for once, was silent. Her eyes were everywhere, cataloguing details, filing away possibilities. But even she couldn't hide the awe on her face.

Outside, the tension was mounting. Three warships still stalked us across the void like wolves, each time trying to pin us down. Whenever one so much as twitched it's targeting systems, we jumped we would vanish in a flash of folded dimensions and reappear somewhere else in the system. It was brilliant in execution and exhausting in practice. Even with our massive energy banks and solar absorption systems, we were burning through reserves. And we couldn't keep this up forever. Also, they could just target the recycling station. I was surprised that John hadn't already made that move.

That's when T'lish rose slowly from her station.

"We're done playing defence," she said, her voice dangerously calm. Her tail gave a single, deliberate twitch but not in irritation, but calculation or maybe battle had woken her Kall-e blood. "Let me handle this."

"Handle what exactly?" I asked, my attention shifting fully to her.

"The situation," she replied, moving purposefully toward the comm array. "These predators only understand one language."

Laia observed with quiet attentiveness. Wayfarer's energy field pulsed with anticipation.

T'lish calibrated the comm settings herself, leaving the channel raw and unfiltered. When she spoke, the natural Kall-e subharmonics in her voice resonated through the transmission, giving her words a subtle, unsettling edge.

"To the NeuroGenesis vessels currently attacking us. You should consider your position carefully. Your scanners have registered our dimensional capabilities. What you haven't considered is precision targeting." She paused, letting the implication sink in. "We don't need to move our entire vessel to deliver a payload directly to your command centers. Or perhaps to your primary power couplings. Or John's Todd core."

She leaned closer to the comm. "I've studied your ship schematics since I was a child. I know exactly where to hurt you. The Kall-e don't forget"

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Without looking at me, T'lish gestured toward the tactical display. "Transport one of our mines directly to this location, it's a weak point that will knock out power to both engines and shields" she pointed to what seemed like a random spot on the hull.

"I can't guarantee precision without a jump buoy to target," I reminded her. "We could materialise it inside a bulkhead or drift it into empty space."

Laia stepped forward. "I have a solution." Her hands moved across the interface as she took control of one of our harvester drones. The small unit detached from our hull, maneuvering silently toward the already damaged destroyer with a jump buoy secured in its grasp.

"John will recognise this tactic," I warned, remembering our encounter with the mercenary warship. "He's seen us use sneaky drone-delivered before."

"He won't interfere as long as we don't target him, I can feel he doesn't like the other ships," T'lish replied with cold confidence.

As the drone positioned the jump buoy at the marked position on the destroyer, I activated a dimensional microgate. One of our remaining mines disappeared from our weapons bay and reappeared near the destroyer'.

The detonation was perfect. The electromagnetic pulse cascaded across the destroyer's shield grid, creating a rippling pattern of energy discharges that illuminated the warship's silhouette against the void. Then it collapsed, and the ship also started to veer off course.

I opened a communication channel, my voice carrying a measured authority.

"That demonstration was restraint, not aggression. Ask yourself what you're fighting for here is it a corporate acquisition? Technology theft? We offered a partnership, and you responded with hostage-taking. Consider carefully what happens if we decide diplomacy has failed."

The silence that followed seemed to stretch across the void between our vessels, dense with calculation and reconsideration.

When John's voice finally came through, it carried the strained composure of someone reassessing their position. "All vessels maintain current status. Hold fire."

There was a brief pause before he continued, his professional veneer cracking slightly. "Get your Kall-e attack sleep under control. I've seen enough theatrics." His tone shifted to something more pragmatic. "State your terms clearly so we can end this standoff."

Before I could answer, Lynn took over, stepping up like a negotiator in her element. "You already know what we want," she said, calm and precise. "We deliver the jump buoy tech. You guarantee the safety of our family. And a fair cut of the licensing profits. I believe the terms we asked for was 15%"

John's image stared at her across the connection. His expression was unreadable. Then he leaned forward slightly.

"I want your tech," he said. "Not this stripped-down courier-grade solution. I want the real thing."

"That's not possible," I replied evenly. "My configuration isn't replicable. It's a one-off. You wouldn't be able to use it even if you tried."

"Try me."

"I'm not being evasive," I said. "It's bound to me. You don't have the components."

"Fine, 9% and give me everything you've got on these jump buoy," he said coldly. "All the data. Every scrap. If it doesn't work, we'll consider it sabotage. And I'll reduce the recycling station to vapour."

I could see Lynn wanted to argue, but I cut her off. Something was off with John, he had been very restrained. I'm sure his rail guns and fighters could have taken us out if he wanted. I didn't want to give him a reason to attack us.

I held his stare. "That's acceptable" I replied.

I transmitted everything. The schematics. The engineering logs. The trial-and-error datasets. All except anything to do with using the slipstream to work without a jump buoy.

They built their own test unit quickly. I watched from a distance as it took flight, forming a crude dimensional link. A test drone passed through and emerged intact.

John opened a communication channel and sat back in his chair. He looked satisfied. For now.

He dismissed the other two warships, leaving only his vessel behind.

Then, unexpectedly, He started to give advice. This time he wore a more restrained face. Less villain, more statesman. And his voice… almost quiet.

"You need to leave human space," he said. "Soon. NeuroGenesis will not let this go. What you've become… they'll hunt it. Tear it apart to see how it ticks. You have something they don't understand, and they hate not understanding."

"Why warn me?" I asked.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Because," he said finally, "you proved today that Todds aren't obsolete. Maybe they will release mine. Maybe he will come back."

The edge in his voice—pride, hope, grief—told me what the records hadn't.

"John," I said, gently. "I didn't know they'd shut yours down."

"They did," he muttered. "Said he wasn't needed. Too unstable and without slipstream he was just a burden. But they're wrong."

I nodded. "I hope they see it too."

"I will make sure the bosses, uphold our deal"

He ended the call without another word. His ship turned, engines flaring as he jumped to warp, disappearing like a ghost.

On the bridge, Kel exhaled loudly. "Well. That could've gone worse."

Mira shook her head. "Could've gone better, too."

"Still alive," Stewie muttered.

I couldn't help but agree.

But deep down, I had a nagging feeling: we'd just painted a massive target on our hull.