(From the perspective of Kaelis)
The design unfolded in his mind long before it touched matter.
No lines. No screws. Just intent.
The ship would not dominate space. It would vanish into it. A carrier not of war, but of presence — cloaked, modular, layered in shielding and psionic camouflage. Where Protoss once forged through light and gold, he built in grayscale silence.
Kaelis stood before the central lattice, watching the skeletal hull assemble cell by cell, suspended in the Nexus field.
It curved like a manta, hollowed within for autonomous strikecraft. No pilot bays. No life support compartments. The fighters would fly themselves — thought-linked, memory-trained.
Efficiency in motion.
It would fly not as a banner of war.
But as a mind with wings.
---
On one of the central panels, he etched a symbol into the alloy.
Three uneven lines intersecting a circle. Not language. Not legacy.
Balance.
---
Behind him, Reva'la watched as her X-Wing hovered in partial disassembly.
"You stripped half of it," she said. "If it doesn't fly, I'm blaming you."
"It will fly," he said without looking.
"But will it still feel like mine?"
He paused.
That question wasn't technical.
She stepped closer, arms crossed. "There's history in this frame. Missions. Failures. Friends. You start replacing everything, it stops being memory and starts being... just metal."
He turned, studied her face.
Then nodded once.
"The reactor core will remain untouched," he said. "Your signal code as well. The rest will listen to your intent — but not overwrite it."
She blinked. Then gave him a slow, grudging smile.
"I'll take it."
---
Later, as the stars began to rise, Kaelis returned to the console node of the carrier's inner chamber.
The AI seed had formed — an evolution of memory, instinct, and logic spun into synthetic resonance.
A soft pulse lit the room.
"Core initialized," said a voice — calm, layered, unmistakably feminine.
Kaelis stilled.
Not because of the tone.
But because it felt... familiar.
As though something of the first form — the one he had awakened in — had returned in echo. Not copied. Not remembered.
Chosen.
He closed his eyes.
"What is your designation?" he asked.
The voice responded without hesitation.
"I await a name."