Beyond the Limit (DC) Chapter 133: 133

| Citadel Howorld - September 8

Harry Hokum was born on Earth, but sohow traveled to the Vega star system, where he inveigled his way into the upper echelon of the Citadel high command, second-in-command to the supre commander.

He was currently sipping one of the galaxy's finest wines, four hundred and twenty years old.

The Gordanian raids to abduct humans for Psion experintation? His idea.

Despite his lofty station, his body was still fully human. The Psions had told him he carried the ta-gene, and he was eager to "upgrade"—but only after the process was perfected. Better to test on others first.

So would call him evil. He didn't care. He felt no connection to Earth anymore. His future was here, in the stars, commanding 21 planets.

And soon, he hoped, commanding eternity.

That's why his recent failures frustrated him. The rate of humans with the ta-gene from Earth was dwindling. And the Psions still hadn't figured out how to control the evolutionary process. Their one viable subject had vanished months ago.

At least they had kept samples of his DNA. They were currently in the process of rging it with so Daxamite DNA acquired from the extre isolationists at high cost. The Psions would then simply transplant his DNA and allow him to get a similar power. Energy absorption they said. Way less constrained than Daxamites needing energy from yellow suns to be powerful.

Opening a hyperspace corridor to Thanagar had also been his move. A strategic risk.

Unfortunately, it backfired. Despero, their steadfast ally, was dead. And a new player had erged—a man cloaked in gold purported to be a demi-god, with gravity and energy powers. He'd destroyed thousands of their ships and taken down six motherships. A guaranteed victory had beco a humiliating loss.

The war had to be called off.

Maybe he should look on the bright side. He couldn't have known the Thanagarians had such an ally so consequences from his failure were less harsh.

And they could now redirect their focus to Euphorix—the last free world in the Vega system—and crush the Oga n.

More importantly, the Psions had finally noticed a pattern: the systems glitching before suddenly going dark matched the arena blackout from months earlier.

Not a perfect match, but close.

Only two prisoners were unaccounted for when control returned: a Tamaranean and an Earthling.

The teleportation room was used and destroyed and all data was wiped so where did these people disappear off to.

Tamaran was locked down—Komand'r, his puppet, was keeping an eye on any brewing rebellion. She had undergone the sa process as her sister, Koriand'r—but refined. Enhanced. The Psions said she now almost rivaled a Daxamite under a yellow sun.

That left Earth.

If the Earthling was still alive—and was the so called Hawkgod's Hero—then they'd just found a missing test subject.

He'd have to ask Intergang if anyone resembling him had shown up in the last year.

And if it was true, he'd turn his attention to his old ho. The Citadel could do with another resource rich planet.

**

| Subspace - September 8

Joseph slept like the dead the entire first day aboard his Star Cruiser. Nine days without rest, constant combat, and relentless use of his psychokinesis had drained him completely. He didn't train in the Dream State. Didn't study. He just collapsed and slept.

He didn't need to learn from the avatar anymore, anyway.

Nova had spent that ti optimizing his combat skills—adapting martial arts for high-speed flight using Joseph's own mories and running endless simulations since before, the martial arts were only tailored for ground based combat. The A.I. did the sa for his greatsword, his preferred bonded Nth tal form.

Why a greatsword? Because of Nimokar—the Branx warrior Joseph had killed in the arena. That warrior had tried to kill him with a greatsword, and Joseph had used it to behead him instead.

That had been the first and last ti he'd used a sword, to kill for himself. Now, he'd wielded one to protect millions.

Nova transferred the knowledge directly into Joseph's mind: refined martial arts, STEM fields, administration, economics—even alien variations of these subjects obtained from the Gordanian motherships. The downloads didn't make him a master overnight, of course. He still had to review and practice, to synthesize the knowledge into sothing useful. But the ti it would take him to master a new field had shrunk to a fraction of what it once was. What most humans would spend decades to achieve, Joseph could do in hours.

While Joseph slept, Nova had taken full control of his body. The A.I. had experinted with the Nth tal, trying to understand why it could interact only with bonded Nth tal and not the Nth tal in the Thanagarian battlesuit. It hadn't cracked the mystery, but it had a theory—one that required Joseph's help.

When Nova controlled the body, it had access to its own psychic abilities and to the Nova Force and Speed State from Joseph's body. But the Strength Force remained out of reach—it had chosen Joseph, not Nova.

Following Nova's plan, Joseph suffused his bonded Nth tal with Nova Force until it glowed hot, then reinforced it with the Strength Force. He used telekinesis to fold the Thanagarian battlesuit's Nth tal into his bonded one. It took the better part of a day.

Once integrated, Nova compressed it as tightly as possible, creating a dense, skin-tight armor that shimred like living gold. The weight didn't matter. The tal enhanced Joseph's base strength—tripling it. Lifting 30 tons would be a warm-up. And that was without tapping into the Strength Force.

Even better—it was expandable. Joseph willed his golden arm to beco a sword. It did. Clean. Simple. Neat.

Now, he stood in the cockpit of his Star Cruiser, near the ship's only windows. Outside, the blue shimr of subspace streaked past. A large front window was overlaid with a holographic display counting down to arrival. Just minutes left.

The cruiser was simple. No weapons, but he didn't need any. He was the weapon. The defensive systems were basic, but he could wrap the entire ship in a telekinetic shield if needed. It was enough. It was what he'd asked for.

He wondered where to park it. Maybe at the League's docking bay in the Watchtower—he didn't have a hangar of his own. Not yet, anyway. That would change.

As the ship dropped out of subspace, the golden tal covering Joseph's face shifted, lting into the familiar form of his helt as he gazed on the big blue planet he called ho.

He was back.