“What’s it looking like out there, Chrys?” I ask, kicking my feet off the dash and spinning around in my chair.
“Particle density is elevated. Low levels of radiation detected. Exterior temperature is 2.7 Kelvins.”
I spin around again before dropping my feet to the ground and standing up to stretch. I reach my hands over my head and bend to each side with a groan. I’ve been sitting for so long that my body is grateful to be in any other position.
“Let me know if we run into anything major,” I say. “I’m gonna go run a quick check on engine systems.”
I pass Byer on my way off the bridge, but neither of us say anything. It’s been a quiet ride the past few hours as I sit there, spinning in my chair, trying to come to come up with some kind of theory for how my ship—any ship—could be in two places at once.
I head down the hall to the lift. Checking the engines is really just an excuse to get away from the bridge, a way to occupy my thoughts. I need to focus on something, anything else.
As I suspected, both engine systems are fully functional, but I decide I better cram a few more fuel cells into the annex, if for no other reason than to give myself something to do for a few more minutes.
As I drop off the last of my load, I take the long way around, wandering down the hall past the Pitch, our name for the old Cargo Bay 4. I stare at the door, wondering if I dare venture in. Part of me wants to run inside, to remember what it feels like to sprint up and down the court, lugging shots at the hoop that’ll probably miss and laughing so hard I trip over my own feet. But there’s another part of me that can’t bear the thought of going in alone, listening to the echoes as they bounce from wall to wall across the empty room.
I stare at the door, trying to decide what to do, when suddenly, the ship shudders, knocking me off balance and forcing me to reach out and steady myself against the wall.
What was that?
The lights in the hall flicker for a moment, before a booming voice comes on over the speakers, reverberating loudly throughout the ship.
“You have entered Antinomy space. This area is restricted for your safety. Dampen your engines and alter your heading immediately.”
I turn and run down the hall to the lift as the recording begins again.
“You have entered Antinomy space. This area is restricted for your safety. Dampen your engines and alter your heading immediately.” I press my hands over my ears to dull the intensity of the volume.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
I make my way back onto the bridge, greeted by a concerned look from Byer.
“Chrys, can you turn that off,” I shout over the recording, “or at least down?” The volume of the recording immediately drops until it’s little more than background noise, but I can still hear it running on loop.
“You have entered Antinomy space. This area is restricted for your safety. Dampen your engines…”
“I think it’s safe to say we’ve hit the buoy perimeter,” I say over my shoulder as I make my way to the back of the bridge. I stand and stare at the control panel, an assortment of readings pulled up on the screen to give me an overview of the ship’s systems. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t know what I should be looking for. But my mind doesn’t even register the characters on the screen. I’m staring past it. Through it. Trying to make sense of what I know and what I don’t, and where the two diverge.
Antinomy space—it’s the designation used for areas affected by temporal distortions and spatial anomalies. And a signal from my ship is coming from the middle of it.
“You should go.”
“What?” Byer asks incredulously, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“You should take Remus and go. This isn’t what you signed up for,” I say, shaking my head. “I appreciate you coming this far, but I can take things from here.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, confused.
“Go back to Pajorat,” I say. “You can meet up with C-CIL and Shae. They’ll be glad you see you.”
Byer shakes his head.
“I’m not going back.”
“You don’t even wanna be out here!” I shout. “If it were up to you, we would’ve turned around a long time ago!”
“You’re right,” he answers evenly, “but I’m still not leaving.”
I cross my arms.
“I’m serious,” I say firmly. “You need to go. I can’t—” I look down at my feet. “If anything bad should happen, you know, to us. To you. I can’t have that on my conscience.”
Byer doesn’t say anything. Finally, I look up and meet his gaze.
“I know there’s nothing wrong with your ship,” I say. “At least not now, not since Pajorat.”
He doesn’t contradict me. And I know that it’s true. I may never know whether there was ever actually anything wrong with the ship, but that’s no longer relevant. I don’t even care anymore.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice low.
I shake my head and close my eyes. There’s a lump in my throat that I try to swallow down.
Why? I want to ask. Why won’t you just go? But I can’t seem get the words out.
“Particle density is elevated. Radiation levels rising. Immediate action is required,” Chrys voice says over the speaker.
“Shit,” I mutter. “Gimme a little EM on the hull, Chrys. How’s our Whipple looking?”
Byer watches me turn back to the display screen before heading back to the navigation controls.
“Electromagnetic shielding system operating at minimum values. Whipple shielding fully functional,” says Chrys.
These aren’t exactly what I’d call ideal conditions, but Chrys should be well-equipped to handle whatever we encounter out here. I have faith in her.
“Captain,” Byer calls across the bridge. “Are you seeing this on the radar?”
I pull up the radar display, and to my shock, it shows a ship directly in front of us.
“What the hell?” I gasp.
Where did it come from? It wasn’t there just a couple of minutes ago. It’s like it appeared out of nowhere.
“Raise EM to maximum, Chrys,” I say, “And—"
And it’s gone. The ship that was on the radar a second ago has vanished. Poof. Just like that.
Byer and I turn to look at each other.
“Did you—” he starts.
I nod, eyes wide.
I have no idea what just happened, but I’m starting to get a very, very bad feeling.