Jain Zar: The Storm of Silence

Of the daemon there was no sign.
‘Touch my hand.’
She turned at the words to find an indistinct apparition of a farseer clad in purple, his features hidden, projected from the ruin of the core. He raised his left hand towards her, flickering with flecks of white static.
‘Swiftly,’ he continued. ‘I am powering your ship for the moment. I need you to take over.’
‘You are powering the Swiftriver with your mind?’ It was a stunning feat of mental prowess.
‘I am quite puissant,’ said the farseer. ‘Touch my hand to form a connection between your spirit circuit and the ship. Your energy will sustain the ship until we reach you. Quickly, please. We detect life signs on your ship – some of your crew need the support systems to live.