Captain Sandra Harrington stood rigidly by the viewport of her personal cabin aboard the CSS Reality, her eyes lost in the infinite expanse of deep space. Stars shimmered coldly against the black canvas, but they did little to calm the storm raging within her. Her face was a mask of stone, muscles taut as she replayed the strategy of the upcoming jump in her mind—a jump back to the sector of space she had once called home: Earth.
The ship hummed beneath her feet, the vibrations faint but constant, as it slowly built up the energy required for a quantum breach—ripping a temporary hole in spacetime, creating an artificial wormhole. Soon, they would make the jump. Soon, she would confront the Confederation, the force that had taken everything from her. Her jaw clenched involuntarily as the familiar wave of anger rolled through her body, tightening her fists until her knuckles turned white.
There was a sharp electronic whine as her cabin door slid open, breaking her reverie. Sandra didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The familiar shuffle of small footsteps was unmistakable—Mattwo, her second-in-command.
“Captain...” Mattwo’s voice was quieter than usual, lacking its customary humor.
Sandra didn’t give him a chance to continue. “If this is about Sprag again, I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted, her voice colder than the view beyond the window. “That man was a killer. We should’ve never recruited him.”
Mattwo's eyes drifted around the room as he struggled to formulate a response, taking in the stark contrast of its cold, sterile aesthetic. The captain's quarters aboard the CSS Reality were typical of the ship’s minimalist design—clean, precise, and efficient, with polished metal surfaces that gleamed under the soft glow of ambient lighting.
A work station, embedded into the far wall beneath the viewport, blinked with diagnostic displays and data streams, casting a cascade of soft pulses across the room. The station’s holographic interface flickered, flashing arcane symbols of ship diagnostics, energy signatures, and distant star charts.
His gaze lingered on a large, grand Victorian chair that stood in sharp contrast to the sleek, futuristic surroundings. Its dark wood and plush upholstery looked out of place, almost an artifact from another era, defiantly standing amidst the clean lines and functional sterility of the ship’s interior. Nearby, a small leather couch sat against the opposite wall, paired with a low, angular table that looked like it had been carved from a single geometric block of metal. Every piece of furniture felt dissonant against the modern backdrop, as if the room couldn’t decide whether it belonged to a spacefaring warship or a 19th-century study.
The green glow from the Reality's engines, visible through the bulkhead, bathed the entire room in a sinister hue. It wasn’t just light—it was the pulse of the ship itself, the energy that powered its artificial gravity and faster-than-light systems. The eerie, verdant illumination gave the polished surfaces a surreal, almost otherworldly sheen, amplifying the coldness of the space. To Mattwo, it felt like the room was alive—alive with the hum of the ship’s quantum cores, the vibrating energy of the reality engines that bent space and time.
Despite its outward calm, the room made him uneasy, as if it harbored a malevolent intent just beneath its surface, the glow of the engines a constant reminder of the ship’s sheer destructive potential.
“That may be true, Captain,” Mattwo replied, stepping further into the room, “but the rest of the crew aren’t like him. Some of them liked Sprag, respected him even. You kill off men like that, and morale isn’t the only thing that’s going to suffer.”
For a moment, Sandra’s stony exterior softened, her shoulders sagging as she turned away from the viewport. The constant weight of rage, grief, and the toll of maintaining her unbreakable facade were starting to show. She glanced at Mattwo, taking in his smaller, wiry frame and that perpetually unkempt afro. He looked tired—so unlike his usual self.
“Tell me, Mattwo,” Sandra said suddenly, her voice a touch lighter. “How did you get your name again?”
Mattwo blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. He glanced toward the captain’s small liquor cabinet, noticing her already reaching for two glasses and a bottle of red liquid. She motioned toward the couch on the far side of the cabin, a silent invitation.
“Really, now?” Mattwo asked, sounding half exasperated, half amused. “I’ve got loads to check on. The quantum calibration—”
Sandra waved him off, pouring the drinks. “Wasn’t it your mother who went to register you?”
Mattwo sighed, shaking his head but taking a seat next to her. He downed his drink in one quick motion, as if bracing himself for the inevitable retelling.
“You just want a laugh,” he muttered, his voice carrying a mixture of humor and irritation. “You know damn well it was my mother. She called me Matthew for the first four years of my life.”
Sandra couldn’t suppress a small smirk. “Matthew, you say? Do go on.”
Mattwo gave her a sideways glance but continued with the well-worn story. “Yeah, Matthew. But when I got to school, everyone called me Mattwo. Kids, teachers—even the cafeteria staff. Turns out my poor mother, bless her, had a... slight issue with spelling. Dyslexia, she said. But when the birth registry asked her how she wanted to spell Matthew, she went with M-A-T-T-W-O.”
Sandra chuckled softly, the sound light and genuine—something rare for her these days.
“And the registrar didn’t correct her?” Sandra asked, shaking her head in mock disbelief.
“Nope,” Mattwo said, resigned. “And here we are. I’ve been Mattwo ever since.”
For a moment, the tension between them lifted. It was a brief return to normalcy—those small glimpses of life before the Confederation had torn it apart.
“That’s what they’ve taken from us,” Sandra said quietly, her smile fading. “Those little moments. The things that shape us, make us who we are. And now, they’re gone.” Her voice turned hard again, the anger returning. “They’ve spent God knows how long manipulating Earth, rewriting lives, erasing everything. I’m going to find out why. And I’m going to bring Ocean back.”
Mattwo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Ocean? Why would you want to bring back the sea?”
Sandra turned away, her voice thick with barely contained emotion. “Ocean... was my daughter.”
The words seemed to hang in the air like a phantom. Mattwo’s eyes widened, his usual carefree demeanor evaporating as he processed what she had just revealed. He had known the captain for years, fought by her side countless times, but she had never mentioned a daughter.
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Sandra continued, her voice low and haunted. “I wasn’t alone when I was taken by the Observer. Ocean was with me. We found ourselves on this field—just grass for miles. No sun, no stars, just endless white above us. We searched for her father, but he wasn’t taken like we were.”
Her hands trembled slightly as she recalled the moment. “She was outside, playing with a dog we’d found. I was scavenging supplies from an old shop. And then... it happened. The air changed. Everything felt... charged. I ran out to grab her, but before I could reach her, the oblivion ray came down. One second, she was there, and the next—she was gone. So was everything else. The nothingness... it swallowed her.”
Mattwo’s heart clenched at her words. He remembered the nothingness all too well—that eerie void where reality simply ceased to exist. But hearing Sandra speak of her daughter’s erasure twisted something inside him.
“They’ve erased more than just cities, Mattwo,” Sandra whispered. “They’ve erased our lives. Our futures. And if the Confederation can control reality like that, then maybe... maybe they can bring her back.”
Her words trailed off, the hope so faint it seemed to waver in the air. Even Sandra didn’t fully believe it, but it was all she had left.
Mattwo sat in stunned silence. “Captain, I... I had no idea. Why didn’t you say something? I knew you wanted to stop the Confederation, but your daughter...”
Sandra’s cold mask returned, though her eyes remained clouded with pain. “Now you know. And now you understand why we can’t fail. I’ll burn the Confederation to the ground if it means getting her back. Blair might’ve had the answer if we’d gotten to Siron sooner. But this... this is our chance. And no one—especially not someone like Sprag—is going to stand in my way. Do you understand?”
Mattwo nodded, a steely resolve forming in his chest. He had followed Sandra through hell and back, but now... now it was personal. For her, and for him.
“I understand, Captain,” he said quietly. “And I’m with you.”
Sandra wiped her eyes, her demeanor hardening once more. She stood, finishing the last of her drink before setting the glass down with a firm clink.
“Good,” she said, her voice back to its commanding tone. “Let’s go see how the preparations are going. I want us to jump within the next few hours. We can’t afford to lose this window.”
Mattwo stood and followed her out of the cabin, a renewed determination in his step. He would see this mission through to the end—no matter the cost.
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The bridge of the CSS Reality hummed with the low, constant vibrations of the ship’s systems powering up, the steady pulse of energy growing with each passing moment. Captain Sandra Harrington stood near the central console, her eyes trained on the viewscreen. The beauty of the cosmos in front of her had long ceased to awe her. Now, it only reminded her of the mission at hand—going back to Earth.
Beside her, Mattwo shuffled slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a more serious expression as the crew moved swiftly around them, preparing for the jump.
"Status report," Sandra said, her voice low but commanding. She didn’t need to raise her voice on the bridge; every crew member was trained to listen carefully, to act swiftly. And she expected nothing less.
Lieutenant Torvan, positioned at the engineering console, responded without hesitation. “Quantum drive is stabilizing, Captain. We’re pulling in power from the auxiliary coils to ensure a smooth transit. Energy levels are climbing—97% and rising.”
The bridge was bathed in a dim, greenish light that pulsed rhythmically in time with the ship’s increasing power. It created a surreal atmosphere, casting long shadows against the polished metallic walls and the crisp lines of the consoles. The air itself felt charged with tension, as if the same energy was flowing through the ship’s veins.
Mattwo glanced at the display nearest him, showing the power grid of the ship as lines of raw energy coursed through it like streams of lightning. "Feels like standing next to a thunderstorm," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Sandra to hear.
She gave him a sideways glance, a hint of a smile touching her lips. "Let’s hope we don’t get caught in one."
“Captain,” came a voice from Lin, a large short-haired woman, seated at the forward console, her fingers flying over the holo-keys, like a typist working at her peak, as data streamed across her monitor. “All readings on the quantum lattice are within acceptable limits. No anomalies detected.”
Sandra stepped toward Lin’s station, her boots making soft clicks on the polished floor. "Good. I want a continuous scan on those readings. Any fluctuation, however minor, I want to know immediately."
"Aye, Captain," Lin replied, her eyes never leaving the monitor.
The ship itself seemed to tremble, the vibrations from the quantum drive growing stronger, like the deep rumble of an ancient engine coming to life. Sandra could feel it under her feet, the power building, the familiar tension before a jump that never quite became routine, no matter how many times she’d experienced it.
"Captain, weapons systems are on standby," Tactical Officer Velasquez reported, his hands moving with precision over the tactical console as if he was conducting an orchestra. The faint hum of the ship’s shields activating followed, a shimmering field briefly appearing on the external view of the ship before fading from sight.
Sandra turned her attention to him. “And the shield array?”
“Fully operational. We’re at full capacity, and the defense turrets are primed. In case we encounter anything hostile upon arrival.” Velasquez’s expression was as sharp as ever, always ready for a fight. That was one thing she could count on him for, always ready for battle.
“Good. Let’s hope we won’t need them, but I don’t want to be caught off guard.”
Mattwo stepped up beside her, his eyes scanning the various displays. "Looks like everything's running smoothly," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Feels a bit too smooth if you ask me."
"You're always waiting for something to go wrong, aren’t you?" Sandra replied, her tone slightly teasing but with a knowing edge.
Mattwo shrugged, offering a half-grin. "It’s kept me alive this long."
The low hum in the background shifted into a deeper thrum, the deck beneath their feet vibrating with barely contained power as the ship neared the final stages of preparation. The energy coursing through the ship was palpable, sending a faint charge through the air that made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end.
"Captain," Torvan’s voice came again. "Quantum drive is at full charge. All systems are green. We’re ready for the jump on your command."
Sandra took a deep breath. This was it, all the years of struggle for this moment. She glanced around the bridge at her crew—so many faces absent, but still so many relying on her, all of them waiting for her word, trusting her to lead them through whatever lay ahead.
"All hands," she said, her voice cutting through the hum of the ship’s systems. "Prepare for quantum jump. Secure all stations. This is it."
As her orders rippled through the ship, each crew member responded with sharp, efficient movements. Harnesses clicked into place, readouts were triple-checked, and the faint murmur of conversation died down, replaced by the focused silence of a crew about to throw themselves into the unknown.
Sandra stepped toward her command chair but didn’t sit. Her hands gripped the back of it instead, her knuckles white as she braced herself. Her mind flickered briefly to her daughter—to the moment she had been erased. She pushed the memory aside, locking it away. There would be time for grief later. Now, there was only the mission.
"Helm," she called out, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "Initiate the jump."
The ship’s lights dimmed, replaced by a throbbing red glow that filled the bridge. A low, resonant hum echoed through the air as the quantum drive engaged, pulling in vast amounts of energy and directing it toward the singularity field ahead of them. The view outside the ship began to warp, the stars stretching into thin, elongated streaks of light as the fabric of space itself bent around them.
The crew braced themselves, tension thick in the air. The feeling of pressure built in Sandra’s chest as if the ship itself were being squeezed through a bottleneck. Her hands gripped tighter on the command chair.
The CSS Reality trembled, its hull groaning under the strain as the jump drive engaged fully, and with a final surge of energy, they were gone—hurtling through the void between dimensions, the stars outside twisting into impossible shapes as reality bent around them.
And then, with a suddenness that stole the breath from their lungs, the ship stabilized. The jump was complete.