The Dark Matter Hearing Star Map Draftsman II: Fate of the Galaxy

“What is he doing here?” Dawn Lucius snarled, his eyes fixed on Jonathan the moment Ailven and Jonathan stepped into Hamilton’s laboratory.

Dawn’s fists clenched tightly. A sudden, cold doubt gnawed at him—maybe Sandra’s analysis had been wrong all along. Wherever Jonathan was, there was always a conspiracy brewing. And this time, it felt like Jonathan had planned every single detail.

Jonathan looked equally surprised to see Dawn, but quickly composed himself. He reminded himself of his true goal, pushing aside any urge to engage in petty arguments. Petty squabbles were meaningless; what mattered was seizing control of dark matter to fulfill his ambition of ruling the Galaxy. The Orion Arm was already nothing more than a tiny dot on his future map. The fact that they had crossed paths again was no coincidence—not in Dawn’s eyes.

“Who are you referring to?” Hamilton asked, glancing at Dawn.

“Me,” Jonathan replied, forcing a polite smile onto his face. He walked confidently toward Hamilton, stopping just short of him. “The Star Map Draftsman and I have a few… misunderstandings. Not long ago, someone who once served under me tried to cut off his arm to remove the Star Source—planning to use it for purposes unknown to us. So naturally, the Star Map Draftsman assumes I was involved.”

“Oh, really?” Dawn said, his voice dripping with ice. He stared at Jonathan, his gaze sharp enough to cut steel.

“I’m afraid that’s the case,” Jonathan said, his expression perfectly calm.

“You expect me to believe you had no hand in this?” Dawn snapped. “You tampered with the Star Source, suppressing its power. You nearly killed me. And now you’re colluding with others to kidnap my son. Do you really think this is just a ‘misunderstanding’?” Jonathan’s fake smile made Dawn’s blood boil—he wanted nothing more than to punch it right off his face.

“Your son?” Jonathan’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of genuine confusion.

“That’s enough!” Ailven stepped forward, his voice ringing out sharply to cut through the tension. He turned to Hamilton and bowed respectfully.

“From the moment you all stepped into this room, a new partnership has begun,” Hamilton said, his eyes sweeping over each of them in turn. “My partnership. You all answer to me, and me alone. Beyond the research into dark matter, I will not tolerate any infighting or distractions. So let’s leave the past where it belongs—for now.” He paused, then nodded at Ailven. “Now that everyone is here, Ailven—why don’t you brief us on the plan?”

“Of course, Professor,” Ailven replied.

As Hamilton had instructed, Ailven laid out the full story behind their dark matter research. It had all started when the Defenders’ Alliance first detected a steady decline in the universe’s dark matter reserves. But proving whether this decline would lead to a catastrophe was nearly impossible—and the Alliance’s core members had been desperate to bury the news. Admitting that they were now shifting their focus to studying a potential dark matter disaster would not only lack any concrete evidence, but also risk sparking mass panic. After all, the Alliance’s entire reason for existing was to prepare for the reconstruction efforts following the collision between the Galaxy and the Magellanic Clouds—a goal that had earned them the unwavering support of wealthy merchants and warlords alike. If the Alliance were to publicly announce that they were now investigating a dark matter crisis, it would not only make them look incompetent, but also cast doubt on their original mission. To avoid such a scandal, the Alliance had been warning its scientists to stay silent, forbidding them from discussing the matter anywhere, at any time.

“But this time, we’ve been given a chance—a hearing, to be held tomorrow,” Ailven said, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. It was the smile of a man who knew he was about to win a fight against all odds. “A powerful merchant with significant influence pulled some strings to make it happen. Mr. Pepson’s orders are simple: we just need to present the facts as they are. The rest… Well, we’ll leave that to the imagination of the council members.”

“That’s it?” Dawn asked, his tone skeptical.

“That’s it,” Ailven confirmed, still smiling. He paused, then added, “You’re wondering why we’re not just coming out and saying we need to study the disaster caused by dark matter’s disappearance, aren’t you?”

Dawn said nothing, just glanced at Hamilton. Hamilton met his gaze, then spoke up. “We have no solid evidence to back up any claims of a disaster. If we were to go around shouting that the sky is falling, the Alliance would dismiss our research as nothing more than a ridiculous fantasy. It’s better to simply present our data to the core leadership and let them come up with the next steps.”

“And what if they don’t come up with any steps at all?” Jonathan asked, leaning forward slightly, his interest piqued.

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Ailven said with a laugh.

“Why not?” Jonathan pressed.

“Our goal is still to study dark matter. Whether the Alliance approves of our mission or not, we’ll keep going. If our research proves that dark matter’s disappearance will trigger a catastrophe, then we’ll have our results—and no one can blame us for trying to warn them. If the research leads nowhere… then there’s no need to mention it at all. Besides, we’re not exactly certain what we’ll find. But…” Ailven’s voice trailed off, but Hamilton cut him off before he could finish.

“I am certain,” Hamilton said, his voice firm and unshakable, his expression deadly serious.

Hamilton’s plan was to take them all to Planet Vonia—the farthest star system from the Three Federations. No government had ever bothered to claim these systems; they offered no population booms, no scarce resources, and posed no threat to federal rule. In fact, the merchants who operated here willingly paid hefty taxes to the various federations, just to ensure that the authorities turned a blind eye to their activities. From what Ailven had explained, Planet Vonia was the secret headquarters of the Defenders’ Alliance. The system had one naturally formed planet, and three artificial ones—all orbiting the same sun, sharing its warmth. The artificial planets were encircled by ring-shaped transportation networks, and wealthy merchants had banded together to build magnificent floating gardens for themselves. After all, it was their money that funded the Defenders’ Alliance—and that gave them privileges far beyond those of the system’s nominal rulers.

They left the laboratory, and the orange-uniformed guards drove them across the planet in a hovercraft. The initial stretch of their journey passed through a barren wasteland, completely devoid of any signs of life—no vegetation, just pale yellow soil particles drifting aimlessly in the wind, as if repelled by each other’s presence. After traveling for some time, they reached the planet’s equator, where the landscape transformed dramatically. Here, vegetation grew thick and dense, dominated by ferns that stood nearly two meters tall. Their thick, sturdy stems were covered in lush, broad leaves that looked as if they were soaked through with water, like sponges ready to burst. Dawn glanced down at the ground—nothing but ferns as far as the eye could see. He was about to ask about it when he overheard Ailven and Hamilton talking. It turned out that the planet was still in its “infancy” stage. The Defenders’ Alliance had launched a terraforming project, planting these genetically modified ferns along the equator. These specially engineered plants could survive in the harshest of environments—and produce massive amounts of breathable oxygen. So far, the terraforming process was progressing better than anyone had hoped.

After flying for a while longer, the hovercraft jolted slightly, then finally came to a stop at their destination. From the vehicle’s windows, the scene before them looked like a strange blend of new life and utter hell. Suspended just above the ground were countless structures that resembled starships—each with a massive central hull that tapered to a sharp point at both ends, running along a curved spine. The entire fleet glowed with a faint purple light. Below them, the ground had been scorched bright red by the intense heat of the starships’ thrusters during takeoff and landing. The mountains had been eroded layer by layer by repeated tests, their remaining rock formations jutting out like sharp, jagged teeth. As for soil—there was none to be seen. When the hovercraft parked at a mountain pass, the orange-uniformed guards helped everyone put on protective suits, gave them a few quick instructions, then led them into the heart of the “hellscape.”

“What are these things?” Dawn asked, catching up to Hamilton and speaking through their comms channel.

“Can’t you tell?” Hamilton shot back, his tone dry.

“Starships?” Dawn guessed.

“Yes,” Hamilton said.

“But the energy they’re emitting…” Dawn trailed off, his eyes widening as he felt the faint hum of dark matter in the air.

“Yes,” Hamilton said again, glancing sideways at Dawn.

“You can collect dark matter and convert it into energy to power these ships?” Dawn asked, even though he already knew the answer from Hamilton’s earlier reaction. He just needed to hear it confirmed.

“Yes,” Hamilton said simply.

“That’s incredible,” Dawn muttered, his mind racing.

“Is that all it takes to make them fly?” Dawn pressed, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yes,” Hamilton said, continuing to walk forward without slowing down.

A sense of unease settled over Dawn. He remembered what Madam Winifred had told him: the Datheon had entrusted the Ashton Federation with the technology to build Sane ships—the most advanced starships in the Orion Arm. But she had also emphasized that the Ashton Federation was bound by a sacred agreement with the Datheon: they were only allowed to build dark matter-powered ships for the Star Map Draftsman. No one else. Yet here Hamilton was, hidden away in a remote corner of the galaxy, building a fleet of dark matter-powered ships large enough to arm an entire army. If these ships weren’t intended for war and conquest, Dawn couldn’t think of any other purpose they could serve.

They reached one of the starships, and the orange-uniformed guards performed a series of quick checks. The ship shifted from its vertical docking position to a horizontal one, lying flat on the ground. As they drew closer, the purple glow from the energy core grew brighter and brighter, so intense that Dawn had to squint to look at it. The ship’s hull felt eerily familiar—almost identical to the material of his own Sane ship. It was clear that Hamilton had built these vessels using the exact same technical specifications as the Datheon’s design. Dawn also noticed that Jonathan had already rushed ahead with the orange-uniformed guards, reaching out to touch the purple energy core, as if trying to feel the power of controlled dark matter coursing through his fingertips. He ran his hand along the ship’s hull, the way a child might stroke a brand-new toy, his eyes filled with greed and wonder.

“We won’t be using dark matter for this flight,” Hamilton explained to everyone before they boarded. “We need to avoid arousing the Alliance’s suspicions. Space is full of eyes and ears—we can’t afford to expose ourselves. Even though this mission has nothing to do with the Ashton Federation, I don’t want anyone interfering with our plans.”

“Professor, Mr. Pepson wants you to emphasize your former position during the hearing,” Ailven said, turning to Hamilton. “He believes it will help convince the Chairman to support our research.”

“Hmph. Pepson has always been a shrewd politician,” Hamilton said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll handle it. Now, everyone—take your seats. We’re leaving.” He glanced around at the group, then walked to the front of the ship and sat down in the pilot’s chair.

The orange-uniformed guards did one final check, then activated the ship’s thrusters. Traveling through the Star Bridge made normal conversation impossible, which meant Dawn had no opportunity to confront Jonathan directly—not that he wanted to. He had no desire to interact with Jonathan any more than necessary. But the silence gave him time to worry. He was the Star Map Draftsman, tasked with destroying newborn stars to prevent the creation of additional dark matter, which would only accelerate the collision between the galaxies. But if he was stuck here, wasting time on this hearing, how would he ever fulfill his mission? Back when he had been just an engineer on Earth, failing to complete a mission would have resulted in severe punishment. But more than that, it was the guilt that weighed on him—the knowledge that his failure would put countless others in danger. That kind of guilt stayed with a person forever.

“This is Planet Vonia!” Ailven exclaimed, leaning against the viewport and staring out at the spectacle before them as the ship emerged from the Star Bridge’s gravitational well.

To anyone seeing it for the first time, Planet Vonia was far more magnificent than anything Ailven could have described. The floating gardens he had mentioned weren’t just gardens—they were like works of art, a network of beautiful, transparent sky bridges crisscrossing the skies above the artificial planets. Lush green trees and vibrant flowers filled every inch of the gardens, and slow-moving hovercraft glided along their paths in orderly lines. Even for someone as well-traveled as Jonathan, Planet Vonia was the most opulent place he had ever seen. He couldn’t help but wonder—if a person lived here long enough, would they eventually forget how to dream?

“We’re heading for docking bay DwNaB4,” Ailven said, still gazing out the viewport. “Someone has already registered our access permissions in advance.”

“Wait a moment,” Hamilton said, cutting him off. He stood up from his seat.

“What is it, Professor?” Ailven asked, turning to him, confused.

“Here’s the new plan,” Hamilton said, pointing first at Ailven, then at Dawn. “The two of you will attend the hearing.”

“Why do I have to go?” Dawn asked, his voice laced with surprise and suspicion.

“Yes, Professor—weren’t you supposed to be the one to present our research?” Ailven echoed, equally confused.

Hamilton waved a hand dismissively. “Remember: only present the research data we have so far. Nothing more, nothing less. If anyone asks you a question you can’t answer, just tell them we’re still investigating. I need you two to report directly to the Chairman. I have other matters to attend to. We’ll reconvene after the hearing is over. Oh, and I’ll be keeping this ship. You two can take the landing craft instead.” He nodded at the small shuttle attached to the main starship’s hull.

“Wait—why me?” Dawn repeated, his tone firm. He had no interest in playing politics with the Alliance’s leadership.

Hamilton paused, as if considering his answer carefully. He glanced at Jonathan, then turned back to Dawn. “You are the Star Map Draftsman. Your mission is to stop the creation of new dark matter, which would only speed up the collision between the galaxies. But have you ever stopped to think—what if we don’t need you to stop it anymore? Right now, dark matter is disappearing, not increasing. Either way, your ultimate mission is to protect the galaxies. So why not come to the hearing with us? You might discover a new way to fulfill that mission—one that aligns perfectly with what you’re trying to achieve. What do you say?”

“What I say is that the best way to handle this is to mobilize the Three Federations to work together—pooling our resources to find the cause of the dark matter decline and figure out how to stop it. The four of us? Our influence is practically nonexistent,” Dawn argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You still don’t understand the state of the Three Federations, do you?” Hamilton said, a note of frustration in his voice. “The Strath Federation? They’ll never ally with anyone. Now that they’ve got their hands on the technology Madam Winifred gave them, they’re building their own starships. Ask yourself—why would they go to all that trouble? Is it really just for ‘space exploration’? They could buy perfectly good starships from the Ashton Federation for a fraction of the cost of building their own. No—they’re building a fleet.” He pointed a finger at Jonathan. “And then there’s the Moreth Federation. With their advanced understanding of cosmology, they’re the perfect candidate to lead this alliance. But as you can see—he is the Moreth Steader. He can’t even protect his own scientists. For years, his Federation has relied on the Star Bridge to monopolize trade taxes, and they’ve shown absolutely no interest in forming any kind of interstellar alliance.” Hamilton stepped closer to Dawn, placing a hand on his own chest. “And then there’s me—the Ashton Federation. Do you really think Lord Winifred was exiled? He left Visadio Planet in a super starship—one capable of crossing the vastness of space. The only one of its kind. Your Sane ship can’t even guarantee a safe journey to the Magellanic Clouds, can it? But Lord Winifred’s ship? It can fly beyond the Magellanic Clouds. Do you have any idea what he’s planning to do out there?”

“How do you know all this?” Dawn asked, his voice flat. He had heard enough conspiracy theories to last a lifetime. He wanted to hear Hamilton’s explanation.

“How do I know?” Hamilton let out a cold, disdainful laugh. He turned his back on Dawn, staring out the viewport at the stars beyond. For a long moment, no one spoke.

“Hey, come on,” Ailven said, stepping forward to play peacemaker. He reached out to pat Dawn on the shoulder, but hesitated when he saw the angry look on Dawn’s face. Instead, he patted his own chest and said, “I’m here because I want to protect all life in the galaxy. Thanks to my professor’s guidance, we’ve made this much progress with our research. And you, Star Map Draftsman—your goal is the same. Besides, the diplomat has already gone to retrieve your son. Why not come to the hearing with us while we wait for her to return? You might hear something that could help you fulfill your mission later on. It can’t hurt, right?”

Dawn sighed inwardly. Putting aside the possibility of gaining new information, the truth was that Stacean was still in Hamilton’s hands. It would be foolish to antagonize him right now—not when he was at such a disadvantage.

“Fine,” Dawn said, his tone neutral, giving away nothing of his true feelings—neither his anger nor his reluctant agreement.

Ailven and Dawn boarded the landing craft, flying past the floating gardens and toward the largest of the artificial planets. As they descended through the atmosphere, a massive steel wall came into view, stretching across the landscape like a winding river. The area inside the wall appeared to be a residential district, with scattered lights twinkling on the dark metal surface—like plum blossoms blooming on a tree in early spring. On either side of the wall stood two very different neighborhoods. On one side, tall, gleaming silver-white buildings rose into the clouds, with lush green parks visible between them, and an oval-shaped lake glinting in the distance. The lights here were bright and plentiful. On the other side of the wall, however, irregularly shaped houses lay scattered across the ground like discarded children’s building blocks—short, dark, and completely unlit. It looked like a forgotten slum. From what Ailven explained, it was a slum—and it was far from empty. The people who lived there just couldn’t afford to waste their galaxy coins on something as “luxurious” as electric lights.

When they reached the designated docking bay, the landing craft automatically uploaded their identification credentials and hovered slowly in place. By then, seven or eight figures clad in heavy armor had surrounded them. Their suits looked like they were designed to withstand extreme heat and high winds, allowing them to stand completely motionless beside the landing craft, like statues. Once the craft had landed safely, Dawn wasted no time in heading for the exit. He was desperate to set foot on solid ground again—it made him feel alive. Ailven followed closely behind him. On their way to the hearing building, Dawn learned that the armored figures weren’t human soldiers at all. They were relics from an older era—war robots that had been disconnected from their original systems and repurposed as service drones. Each robot was driven by a localized artificial intelligence, completely cut off from the wider network. They were programmed to follow a strict set of protocols, and nothing more. These robots were used in every industry on Planet Vonia—they greatly improved efficiency, but they also put millions of people out of work. That was why, even in a place as prosperous as Planet Vonia, slums existed—and their size was only growing larger with each passing day.

The hearing wasn’t scheduled to start until the next day, so the two of them were shown to their assigned quarters to rest.

As for Hamilton—he took the starship, along with the orange-uniformed guards and Jonathan, to one of the other artificial planets. They landed at the planet’s north pole, then entered an underground facility. The entrance was patrolled by hovercars, low-flying surveillance drones, and fully armed soldiers. In the distance, four massive pillars rose into the sky. Each pillar had a conical base, with eight evenly spaced bulges running up its sides. Two additional sections stacked on top of the cone, forming the longest part of the structure. A steady, pulsing blue light ran up and down the length of each pillar. Behind the pillars, a vast black space stretched out—its contents hidden from view.

“What are these, sir?” Jonathan asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

“Collectors,” Hamilton replied.

“Collectors of what?” Jonathan pressed.

“Dark matter,” Hamilton said.

“Dark matter can be collected?” Jonathan asked, his voice trembling with excitement. This was it—this was the key to his ambition of ruling the Galaxy. It was more than he had ever dared to hope for.

Hamilton didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to one of the soldiers, gave them a few quick instructions, and was promptly led to a low-flying transport craft. The rest of the group followed. As they drew closer to the pillars, a low, thrumming sound filled the air, vibrating deep within their chests—like a wild beast trying to break free from its cage. The noise was so loud that it felt like it was filling their ears, pressing down on their eardrums and causing a dull ache in their heads. But Jonathan didn’t notice any of this. He was completely transfixed by the pillars, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Sir, you’ll have to take over from here,” the soldier who had been piloting the craft said to the orange-uniformed guard once they reached the entrance to the black space. The soldier then climbed onto a small, single-person hoverbike and left, disappearing into the distance.

Ah, Jonathan realized. This facility was restricted—only those with the highest level of clearance were allowed inside. No one else.

The orange-uniformed guard took control of the craft, entering a series of access codes into the console. A massive door slid open in the black wall—wide enough to accommodate ten large starships flying side by side. Jonathan hadn’t had nearly enough time to study the enormous dark matter collectors when the craft pulled into a pitch-black tunnel. Faint purple and white lights flickered in the distance. Jonathan opened his mouth, wanting to say something—anything. He wanted to ask Hamilton what he expected from him, to declare his loyalty, to offer his support—whatever it took to join Hamilton’s team. He was willing to pay any price. Wait, he told himself. What if they haven’t actually perfected the application of dark matter yet? If I ask to join now, I might come across as desperate—and that won’t earn me any favors. Be patient. The transport craft sped toward the flickering lights, the roar of its engines echoing loudly in Jonathan’s ears. The deeper they went into the facility, the thicker the mist became, with gray clouds swirling overhead. Two colossal structures floated in the sky: the closer one looked like a giant eagle with its wings fully spread, preparing to land. The one farther away resembled a towering lighthouse. Both structures were shooting thick beams of pale purple energy down toward the ground, which was pockmarked with craters and scars. The few remaining pools of water were boiling violently under the intense heat. A lone figure dressed in black stood at the mouth of a mountain pass, waving enthusiastically at their approaching craft. When they drew close enough, Jonathan saw that the figure wasn’t wearing any protective gear at all. To stand completely unshielded in a facility where such powerful energy experiments were being conducted—this person must have been someone truly extraordinary.

“Welcome, Lord Hamilton,” the figure said, rushing over to greet them as soon as the craft landed. He bowed respectfully to Hamilton.

“You’ve done well,” Hamilton said, nodding at him politely.

“I had no idea you were coming, sir. Otherwise, I would have prepared a proper welcome,” the figure said, looking apologetic.

“There’s no need for that,” Hamilton replied. “I receive regular reports on the progress of the experiments—and they’ve all been excellent. Our survival depends on your work. Thank you.” He bowed his head slightly in gratitude.

“It’s an honor to serve you, sir,” the figure said, straightening up. “Shall we head to the energy tower to inspect the equipment?” He gestured toward the lighthouse-like structure in the distance, then led the way forward.

Piles of rubble lay scattered along the path, their irregular shapes a clear sign of past explosions. The road itself had been cleared, but it was still a mess of fine gravel and mud, compacted smooth by repeated foot traffic. There wasn’t a drop of moisture anywhere. So when the massive circular window in the center of the energy tower cast its purple light onto the path, the dry ground reflected it perfectly, bathing Jonathan in a sea of violet. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear—fear that the energy would harm him in some way. But no one else seemed concerned. Hamilton was wearing nothing but a thin black jacket. Surely, if there was any danger, they would have warned him. They approached the tower, which was surprisingly ugly—like a lump of mud someone had shaped with their bare hands. Its exterior was an irregular cylinder, with a large hollow circle in the middle glowing brightly with purple energy, like the exhaust nozzle of a giant engine. The lower half of the tower was narrower, and Jonathan could see faint traces of purple energy leaking out from between its seams. At the end of the path, a small bunker-like building stood on the right side of the road. Its door looked brand new—as if it had just been replaced. The sight made Jonathan uneasy. Could it be that a monster was locked inside? One that had broken down the old door, forcing the facility’s staff to install a new one?

“Sir, we’ve arrived,” the figure said, stepping to the side of the door and sliding it open for Hamilton.

“Thank you,” Hamilton said, walking straight inside. The others followed closely behind him—Jonathan had no choice but to tag along.

“Sir, we’ll leave you and your guest to it,” the orange-uniformed guard said, stopping at the entrance to the first room. He and the black-clad figure who had greeted them bowed to Hamilton, then turned and left, their footsteps fading into the distance.

Hamilton and Jonathan walked down a narrow corridor, the only sounds the clicking of their shoes against the metal floor and the rapid thumping of Jonathan’s heart. With each step, it felt like someone was placing a heavy stone on his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. He even felt a little drowsy. He looked up at the ceiling, which was lined with rows of identical white light bulbs. Their harsh glare stung his eyes.

“Here we are,” Hamilton said, stopping in front of a door at the end of the corridor. He turned to face Jonathan.

“So—what exactly are we doing here?” Jonathan asked, his voice uncertain.

“I wanted to show you something,” Hamilton said. He pulled an identification card from his pocket and waved it in front of the door’s lock. The door slid open silently to the side.

Inside the room, there was nothing remarkable—just a few screens mounted on the walls, displaying streams of data and complex diagrams. But the object sitting on the table in the center of the room was impossible to ignore. It looked exactly like a Star Source. Jonathan’s eyes widened. It was identical to the one embedded in Dawn Lucius’s arm. He instinctively reached up to touch his own right arm, remembering the first time he had tried to bond with a Star Source on his Sane ship. It had nearly killed him. If Dawn hadn’t pulled him out of the medical bay’s cryogenic chamber, he would have been frozen there forever.

“Is that a Star Source?” Jonathan asked, his voice dry and hoarse despite the fact that he had swallowed hard several times.

“No,” Hamilton said, shaking his head. He stepped closer to the table, then added, “But it is.”

“I don’t understand,” Jonathan said, frowning in confusion.

“It’s not a Star Source created by the Datheon,” Hamilton explained. “Those are extremely rare. As far as anyone in the Orion Arm knows, only one remains—and it’s on the Star Map Draftsman’s arm. The rest have vanished without a trace. That’s why I said it’s not a Star Source.”

“And what do you mean by ‘but it is’?” Jonathan pressed, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest.

“Because it has all the abilities of a Star Source,” Hamilton said, his voice low and measured. “Whoever wears it can channel the power of dark matter—creating weapons out of thin air, generating energy shields, manipulating objects with their mind. Those are the abilities we’ve confirmed so far.”

“You mean…” Jonathan said, rushing forward to stand beside Hamilton. He could barely believe what he was hearing. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists. “You mean it can do everything except pilot a Sane ship?”

Hamilton said nothing. He just nodded.

“Lord Hamilton—I have a request,” Jonathan said, his voice dropping to a whisper, so quiet that he could barely hear himself speak.

“Go on,” Hamilton said, not looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the data streaming across the screens on the wall.

“Can I—can I wear this Star Source?” Jonathan asked, his voice cracking with emotion. “I can offer you anything—resources, armies, food, weapons… I can mobilize everything at my disposal. With this Star Source, I can accomplish great things. I can even lead my people to join the Defenders’ Alliance—helping you achieve your goals, sir…” The more Jonathan spoke, the more his confidence waned. He knew that none of these resources were truly his—he was nothing more than a figurehead, a puppet of the Moreth Federation. His voice grew smaller and smaller, until it was barely a murmur.

Hamilton said nothing. He just stood there, watching Jonathan squirm with quiet amusement.