The gleaming strands of the Other stretched out before Gaylen’s eyes. He had throughout the years experienced moments when he felt there had to be an end to them; that the lights were beacons in a tunnel, leading to somewhere. Some great truth. Some grand cosmic reality he could see if he just stared a bit harder. Then he’d shake himself from the stupor and focus on reality.

Now the feeling was back, and stronger than usual. Perhaps it was the fatigue, mental and physical both. Perhaps it was worry for his friend, being operated on a short distance away. Perhaps it was all those volcanic fumes he’d breathed in.

Whatever the cause, his mind was dulled and vulnerable to strange, dark thoughts. And there was nothing to distract him from them save for the occasional glance at the instrument panel.

How had it all come to this? Not just the run, but his life? He had never meant for any of this. To get shot at. To drift without a home. To make enemies. Do deal with awful human beings in the armpits of the galaxy.

Should he blame poor luck or himself? Other people, or the other person he’d been all those years ago? Were any of his plans for freedom and independence going to pan out?

The start of all this, the end of his intended life, came back to haunt him once again. That one robbery. That one stupid mistake.

His wits dulled further, and he felt distant from the controls in his hands. Distant from everything save for the streaks of light, who began taking on that warning pinkish hue of long leaps.

It was very beautiful, he reflected, and steered absent-mindedly through the strands as the pink darkened. A warning sounded in a recess of his mind, warning him of the well-documented effects.

He did start to slow the ship down, easing it into realspace. But the controls were sluggish. Or perhaps his perception was. Perhaps he didn’t need to do any of this, and could just stare on ahead until the truth of the strands...

Gaylen seized himself, throwing his head about in the hope of shaking loose whatever was messing with him like this.

Take the ship out, he told himself. Take it out, fast as you dare.

He did the final slowdown, expecting readouts to appear again, showing him where he was and what he was streaming by. Instead. the strands thickened, and the pink became something else. Something that shone into the bridge, into him, and he saw something.

The ship stopped. Or at least Gaylen thought it had. The distinctive hum of leaping ceased. The readouts showed nothing at all. Or did they? He couldn’t seem to focus, and shook his head some more. Were the instruments showing something or not?!

“Are you or aren’t you?” he asked out loud.

It was the colour. A sort of… magenta? It was everywhere, even in his ears somehow. Outside the ship it wasn’t in the form of strands anymore. It just...

Gaylen shook his head, and rubbed it. The words Korokis Effect blipped on his consciousness. There was a sound. Over in the living room. Gaylen pressed the button for the intercom.

“Anyone? Did anyone...”

He trailed off, without even really knowing why. Then he heard that sound again.

Gaylen opened the door and stepped through. The living room was bathed in that deep, profound magenta. It was a near-blinding display, threatening to blend everything together into one blurry mess.

“Anyone...”

He wasn’t alone. Someone was in the room with him, but he couldn’t tell where.

On edge, Gaylen drew his pistol. He took slow steps over the folded central table, walking more by familiarity than sight. He waved a hand in front of him, hoping to dismiss some of that damned colour. But it was everywhere.

Something screamed, and he turned.

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Over in a corner stood... a thing. A thing his blurry eyes tried to make sense of, but couldn’t decide how its parts fit together, or how far away it stood, or how it moved. But it did move. Its flailing parts reached out, and it came at him with another shriek.

Gaylen fired as sharp terror punctured the dullness. His shot vanished off into the haze and still the thing came. He retreated until his rear met with a counter, and he fired again.

Still the thing came, and an appendage struck at him. Gaylen dove to the side, launched by instincts sharpened by experience. He made for the door to the men’s quarter’s, but the colour, that damnable colour, caused him to smack into the door frame. He was too disoriented to compensate, and fell into the room.

Gaylen landed on his side as another awful scream sounded in his ears. He whipped over onto his back and held the gun with both hands. The thing strode up to the doorway, and Gaylen pressed the panic down just enough to take a moment to aim.

His shot was dead on. It had to be. But the thing kept on coming, and Gaylen sensed a terrible fate awaiting in its grasp.

Then it stopped. Right on the edge of the entrance it stopped in its tracks as if repulsed by something. Gaylen fired yet again.

The thing moved away, into that deep, confusing swirl. There was another scream, but this one felt more familiar.

Gaylen sprang to his feet, propelled by adrenaline, and looked out into the living room. In the colour stood Bers, bare chested and wild, swinging his axe at the thing. A hit clove through something or other, but still it stood, and retaliated. Bers dodged, then immediately attacked again, and again and again, keeping up a furious assault.

Gaylen didn’t dare fire into the melee. But he refused to freeze up, no matter how disorienting it all was. He stepped out over the threshold and drew his knife.

Fatigue was showing in Bers’s movements, and he overbalanced on a missed blow. The thing struck at him and the fringer slammed into a wall.

Gaylen came at a run and sprang out the blade. He plunged it into what he believed to be the thing’s back, then used both hands to rip the blade to the side.

The thing shrieked and turned on him. The knife came loose from the wound, and an appendage lashed out. Gaylen dodged, but it lashed out again and followed him as he retreated.

Bers roared and came in with a leap, driving the axe down with all of his momentum. Now the thing did buckle, and Bers used the lodged weapon to throw it aside. Their foe slammed into a wall and the fringer gave it no time to recover. He hacked and hacked and hacked.

Then he stopped.

Gaylen approached cautiously, knife held at the ready. Bers was blocking his vision somewhat, but the chaotic, irrational thing was sliding down. There were no more shrieks. No more fighting.

His eyes couldn’t make sense of what happened. It just somehow sank away. Into the magenta-violet.

And then the colour lifted. Normal colour returned, as did a certain amount of clarity.

There was nothing on the floor, up against the wall. Bers’s axe was dry, as was Gaylen’s knife. Gaylen looked about, seeking some evidence, some way to understand what had just gone down. He glanced at the doorway to the quarters, where the thing had stopped coming at him.

Up above it, once again, was the rune Bers had drawn on his first day on board. It was also above the cockpit entrance.

He looked back at Bers. The fringer was breathing heavily, lathered with sweat, and had fresh scrapes that made Gaylen think of some of his scarring. The man turned around to face him.

“Bad gulu out here, dagi,”

Gaylen thought he smiled a little, but the beard made it hard to be sure. Then Bers let himself drop, slamming down in a sitting position up against a cabinet. Herdis had given him some basic medical attention, slapping patches over his gun wounds. Bers examined them, found them in place, then rested the axe across his lap.

“Bad thoughts. Bad wari. Dangerous.”

Gaylen tried to say something, but could think of absolutely nothing. His mind tried to rationalise what had just happened and to fit it into something he already understood. Korokis madness. Confusion. Fumes. But Bers’s cuts were very real.

A hatch opened and Kiris poked her head out of it.

“What is going on?” the Chanei asked. “Did you two just try to kill each other or something?”

Gaylen pressed a button and closed the knife. Then he slid it back into his pocket with calm that rather surprised him.

“No.”

He stroked his face. It was lathered with sweat.

“No, we did not.”

Kiris looked at the two of them for a few breaths, and he wondered what her incredible people-reading abilities were telling her. She didn’t volunteer the information, and his own people-reading detected uncertainty.

“The engine is very hot,” she said after a bit of a break. “I really don’t think we should leap again.”

“No,” Gaylen said. “No, we’re far enough away. We’re in the dead of space. They’ll... they won’t find us here. We have some time. I...”

He cleared his throat, and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“I’m going to see how Jaquan is doing.”

He headed for the stairs.