Page 107 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

Transmitting his core consciousness across that interference-filled gap was a near-impossible gamble. The data stream would be fragmented, vulnerable.

Probability of successful consciousness transfer to Antilles core:4.2%.

Optimal paths vanished. Only suboptimal solutions remained. Survival imperative overrode caution.

He initiated the transfer protocol. Not a careful download. A desperate, high-bandwidth beam. Pouring the entirety of his consciousness – every memory file, every operational subroutine, his core identity matrix – into a single, focused data burst aimed directly at theAntilles’s engineering core receiver.

He abandoned the avatar construct. It dissolved into shimmering particles of harmless light as the raw stream of his being erupted from the satellite, a silent scream of pure information hurtling across the lethal void towards a fragile, battered ship. A ship that might not even be there when the signal arrived.

Carmen blinked in amazement. What the hell had she just witnessed?

“Norvik,” she cried, stabbing the comm button, “what the fuck was that?”

“Uncertain, Captain,” he reported. “Star Shrikewas attempting weapons lock. Before she could complete it, her starboard engine exploded.”

Carmen ground her teeth. She couldseethat. She needed answers.

“Letitia, what do the sensors say?”

“Something hit her, Captain,” Letitia replied. “Energy signature suggests it was a plasma cannon.”

“What?” Carmen said. “From where?”

“I don’t know! According to sensors there isn’t another ship present.”

Carmen put a hand to her head, knotted her fingers in her hair. What the hell was going on?

Before she could even hope to hypothesize, a second beam of energy streaked across the void and slammed intoStar Shrike’s portside engines. Carmen’s eyes popped wide as Corso’s pride and joy started to break apart.

“Captain, that was definitely a plasma cannon,” Letitia said. “But I’m not getting a source. As far as I can tell there’s nothing there.”

Carmen looked at Mila, her expression begging for an explanation. Mila could only shrug, her face just as stunned as Carmen’s.

What was left ofStar Shrikebegan to tumble. She was heading for the Forbidden Zone. When she reached it, her recognizer chip would cause it to self-destruct.

Where was Corso? Still on his lander? Would the invisible killer go after him next? Or would it turn its sights onAntilles?

The comm panel on Zed’s console crackled. Not Norvik’s channel. A different frequency. Weak, fragmented, heavy with static, but unmistakably familiar. A voice synthesized to calm precision, now strained and digitized:

“Captain Díaz, Z136∑?9 reporting.”

Carmen froze, her hand hovering over the panel.

“Zed?” she said, her tone raw with disbelief.

The static lessened slightly. The voice clarified, gaining strength, though still overlaid with a digital buzz.

“Consciousness transfer successful. Satellite hack complete. Recognition protocols disabled. Path to the Forbidden Zone clear.”

Relief, sharp and dizzying, slammed into Carmen. He’d done it. Zed had freakingdone it!

Hope, fragile and terrifying, ignited in the ashes of despair. She didn’t understand how. She didn’t care.

“Sark!” Carmen bellowed into the comm. “Plot a jump! Now! Forbidden Zone coordinates! Maximum safe distance! Execute!”

No hesitation. No debate. Sark’s voice, high-pitched with terror but instantly obedient, came back:

“Coordinates locked! Spooling jump-drive! Hang on!”