The Spacer’s Guide to known interstellar species + their relationship to humanity.

Hey folks! I get this question A-LOT, so I thought I’d put this information in one handy place. First, we have The Vaad; if you’re not sure who they are, I only ask you to think of one name: Gray Grimm. Thus far, we have a non-aggression pact with the Vaad and even have some working closely with colonial governments! Verdict: Green.

Up next is The Zillari; this reptilian race is scattered throughout the bubble. Their status regarding humanity is wholly dependent on the individual Zillari citizen. Verdict: Yellow, proceed with caution!

Finally, we have The Tomie! This artificial race works closely with the citizens of B-Eleven. No one knows their origin, and they are not very forthcoming, but they’ve shown to be simpatico with us since first contact. Verdict: Green; so green it's almost yellow.

-Sinclair’s Spacer Guide.

Traveling through the bleed was something of a visual delight. Outside the ship was this red flesh-like membrane that caused the cabin within to glow red. The vessel was small, a two-seat embryo blasting through the birth canal—at least, that’s how Corina chose to view it. Often she wondered what it was like for Roxanne, who didn’t need a ship to surf the bleed. She imagined being in the soup without anything around her to keep her safe; the thought made her shiver.

Corina rubbed the touchpad controls underneath her fingertips; she loved this ship. Gifted to her brother for doing some good deed or another, she couldn’t recall what, but he had never taken to piloting as she had. The first time Corina laid eyes on it was the first time she had ever fallen in love. The words “Huffman” were stenciled on the side, and it was like she had just found out the name of her soulmate. Michael once joked that it was “basically hers,” and the fact that he left it to her meant a lot.

From afar, it looked like a primarily flat disc, like a squished penny. It was silver in color, which stood out anytime it made a fly by a nearby star or any luminous stellar body. It had little to no cargo space, weapons, or much of a so-called “engine” room. It was lean and mean. Built strictly for getting around, it was the perfect ship.

Toward the front of the ship was a single view screen and behind that—aside from all the technology required to navigate and pilot the thing—were just two seats. Corina sat in one, leaned back, and let the onboard AI handle the trip through Bleedspace. The AI was rudimentary; it didn’t speak much or think for itself; it just ran the systems and gave warnings if needed.

To her right sat Sam, the young murderer who tried to get her to call him “The Running Man.” She was still rolling her eyes at that one. Corina had her eyes closed. She was mostly resting them, pretending to be asleep. She was curious what Sam would do if anything.

Much to her surprise, he spent the ride tapping away at the screen of his slate. For all she knew, he was writing his memoirs. Sure the kid looked barely old enough to vote, but what did she know? Advances in anti-aging technology meant that sometimes, that 13-year-old-looking kid might be a 100-year-old CEO.

Corina never had to fret about that; the nature of her powers and abilities had slowed her aging. Still, she kept her age a secret, primarily just for fun. She got a kick out of tabloid sites trying to guess how old she was using zoom-ins of dubious quality, red circles, and arrows; it was all quite amusing. Some of these places felt like they were on the verge of some vast “ancient human” theory. Her favorite was the one time some blogger swore she appeared in Old Earth historical archives, as far back as the Egyptian era. That went pretty viral.

Sam grunted in the seat next to her; it was the first sound either of them had made in hours. Traveling through the Bleed made space travel convenient and plausible, but it took some time. In the old days, travel from a place like Earth to, say, Mars would take weeks, if not months. Someone once theorized that, under the old method, travel from Earth to Izanami would have taken several decades and then some.

These days, a trip from Earth to Mars finishes in a few hours, but very few people make such a trip in either direction. Old Earth had been considered little more than a ghetto for quite some time; some would say even before humanity left it. Corina opened one eye and glanced at Sam. He was still busy tapping away. She decided to break the silence:

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?” He replied without taking his eyes off the slate.

“You grunted.”

“Did I?” Finally, he broke eye contact with the device only to glance her way and promptly return his gaze to it. “Force of habit.”

“You just grunt for the hell of it?”

“Don’t you?” She laughed at that, she didn’t mean or expect to, but it came out all the same. It was infectious; he let out a snort too. The moment vanished just as quickly as it had arrived; the silent tension had re-taken its hold on the cabin. Corina adjusted in her seat and sat up; she suddenly didn’t like the silence anymore.

“No, really, what’s up?”

“Do you actually care?” He said above a whisper; she fought back an urge to strangle the kid.

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Sam made a big show of sighing, and that urge almost took over. Smug brat.

“It’s no big deal,” he said. “I had a ton of messages from my sister all at once; I’d been kind of off the grid for a few days.”

“I wonder why.”

“Whatever,” he said and returned to the tablet.

“Well?”

“Hm?”

“Well, what did she want?”

“Are you serious?” He asked her, and when she sardonically nodded that she was serious, he continued. “Our dad's in hock to some big shot, and she’s freaking out about it, mostly because I knew and didn’t tell her.”

“Well, of course.”

“My dad told me not to, so,” he shrugged. “I mean, I’ll have the money soon, so it’s enn-bee-dee.”

“Is that why you need the Galaxy Brain?” He ignored that.

“Maybe looking for the best way to cheat at cards?” More silence.

“Oh! I know! You want to know how a speedster can beat someone like me, right?” That worked and forced a smile to spread across his lips. It was a tight smile, and his cheeks turned red from the pressure.

“I’m not a speedster,” he eventually said. “Are you always this annoying? You’d think all the gossip rags would point that out.”

“You’re just all piss and vinegar, aren’t you?” She said. “We’ve got another hour to go, and I’m sick of the silence.”

“How’s that my problem?”

“Okay, no big.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She made a show of going back to sleep but then started humming obnoxiously. Sam did his best to ignore that; she wasn’t going to get to him.

But then came the singing.

It was low at first, kind of under her breath, but when she hit the chorus, it was like a drowning cat.

“Okay!” He shouted. “Please, no more.” Corina pretended to take offense.

“You don’t love my voice?” Her voice was a pitch higher than usual.

“I’d rather you flick me away 20 more times than listen to…that.” The way Sam’s voice trailed off made Corina laugh.

“So, you’re not a speedster?”

“No! I,” he paused to consider his words. “I can produce this time dilation field around me; I call it Stoptime.”

“…Seriously?”

“Eat me,” he stuck his tongue out. “ Anyway. It affects everyone else within my sphere of influence, slows down their molecules at a sub-atomic level negating thermal motion, essentially freezing them in place while it’s active.”

“While you move freely.”

“…effectively making me seem like I can move very fast, yeah. The only thing that sucks is the adrenalin.”

“How so?”

Sam shifted in his seat slightly to face her and said, “Uh-well, it kinda really gets my heart pumping…y’know? So much so that it produces a massive amount of adrenalin and,” he sighed. “I-I guess I’m addicted.”

“You don’t need to be an OH to be addicted to that,” she told him. He shook his head.

“I wasn’t being hyperbolic when I said massive. I’m literally addicted to it; I can’t go too long without using my powers, or I’ll start going through withdrawal.”

“When were you going to tell me this, exactly?”

“We’ve still got a couple of hours,” he shrugged. “I’m good.”

Corina turned to face her screen again; the kid reminded her of Roxanne somehow. It wasn’t the age, although she was confident it was close. No, it was about how they dealt with other people that she found similar. They both spoke in a blunt, matter-of-fact-ness that was refreshing for her.

She was one of the most famous people in the Verse, bringing about all kinds of sycophants and yes-people. People who bucked the trend tended to stand out. Plus, she’s always had a thing about strays. She was young once, and she knew what it was like out there, alone in the black. Alone with more powers than sense? Yeah, she knew it all too well.

A voice in her mind chastised her for being soft because the kid was a murderer. She didn’t kill anyone; she helped people. It’s not an excuse. Corina winced; the idea that that’s just how it is has perpetually clashed with some of her deeply held beliefs. Over-humans had been so demonized their entire existence for being “naturally aggressive” that she bristled against so much as the idea that it was an accomplished fact.

There was no question that one had to be extra careful when out in the wild amongst normals, but it wasn’t so black and white. Right now, she has privilege. She never has to worry about front-facing prejudice because she is so public; that wasn’t always the case. It behooved her to remember that not everyone can be her. Contextualizing is not excusing, and empathy doesn’t make you soft.

“So, are you from Izanami?” She asked.

“I’m a colony brat,” he shook his head. She waited a moment, expecting him to say more, but with nothing forthcoming, she asked:

“Do you want me to guess?” He looked at her and said nothing. His eyes dropped low; now she was really curious. Still, she thought better than to pry. “We can change the subject if you want,” she turned back to face the viewscreen. He brought his eyes back up from the floor.

“Drusula.”

The name sent frost rolling down her back. She hated it. Drusula was a human colony that had been under control by an alien crime lord named Gray Grimm. Gray Grimm was famous for beating her brother, Captain Steel, to death.

"Your father,” Corina began. “He’s in big with Grimm’s crew, is that it?” Sam nodded. Grimm was dead by her hand, but it didn’t mean that his organization just went belly up. It got smaller and leaner, but it still had a presence. Corina pursed her lips, unsure if she wanted to ask this.

“Did you see it?” By which she meant the fight that killed her brother. Sam got quiet. He seemed to be trying to recall a memory. Eventually:

“Yeah,” he nodded as the word came out. “It was bleedcasted all over the net; who didn’t?” He had found the memory and didn’t seem to like it very much. Corina could relate; the entire fight was still a vivid memory all these years later. Suddenly Corina became very conscious that neither of them had said anything for several minutes. She ended that by breathing inward loudly. Sam returned to his slate while Corina decided to check the read-outs and interface with the ship's systems for a little bit.

She tapped a set of buttons on the armrest of her chair. From above, a hatch clipped open, and an open-faced helmet descended from it. Corina reached up and pulled it closer before snuggly fitting it on her head. Almost too snug, it felt like her hair got pulled. She was going to have to get it refitted later.

Her vision was black, but within moments a custom-made HUD filled her awareness. As a backdrop, a real-time feed of the bleed outside the ship hovered behind the UI. It gave her the usual info that she needed to know, such as the engine status, the oxygen levels, and how much time left in the jump.

Only 20 minutes.

*

With a reality-bending pulse, a hole in space tore open and jettisoned the Huffman into the real. They were near the galactic core in a system with no official designation on any map or guidebook, so Sam had to manually input the coordinates into the nav system. He claimed he had earned them in a different poker game, and it had taken him a long time to find that person in the first place.

Supposedly the Galaxy Brain had trusted agents scattered throughout the Verse; these chosen few had not only the coordinates of his system but also the access codes that allowed one even to enter it at all. It’s been said that those who try entering the system lacking such are ejected violently into real space onto a random spot on the galactic map. Some have claimed it sends you out of this reality and into another. Yet another selection of people say it locks you into The Bleed forever.

That was Corina’s favorite.

Corina ordered the ship to run a scan of the whole system. It worked similarly to echolocation in sending a radio wave pulse outward; anything out there “bounced back” and was picked up. Most stellar bodies—planets and the like—had distinct radio wavelengths that they “broadcasted” outwardly constantly. Corina tuned the scanner to filter those first.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Six signals came back on her HUD. There was the main star, of course, a white dwarf. Four sets of asteroid belts orbited the dwarf in a series of expanding rings. The last signal was interesting, artificial. It emanated from within the second to last asteroid ring before blinking off. She sighed heavily.

“He supposedly has a ship he keeps parked somewhere out there,” she heard Sam say. “They say it’s armed to the teeth, so don’t just, like, approach it.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she said and continued her work. A pulse blipped on her screen near one of the formations at a different ring. Corina huffed and switched over to the optical scanner. She zoomed in as much as she could. A scattering of space rock hung there lifelessly.

They were far enough from the central star that Corina could barely make out their basic shapes and compositions. The AI took over here and saw fit to draw highlights around individual asteroids, making the onboard system freeze. Her AI had just enough processing power to handle critical functions like life support; with so many objects out there, the whole system chugged. Once it unfroze, there were bright green outlines around each rock. Corina saw lines stacked upon each other due to how tight the cluster was; it was quite the haystack.

She activated another radio pulse and rescanned the system. The ship had traveled a few light seconds closer to the asteroid ring, and she hoped this pulse would give a more precise signal location if it were one at all. Corina was dubious about the entire thing. A system that only accessed via the correct code sounded implausible. The stories about the consequences of not having said codes made it even more far-fetched.

She understood the power of legend and hearsay; she often used them to her advantage. The stories just reeked of it. Maybe this whole thing was a wild goose chase that sent people like her and Sam—people with minimal options for specific problems—all over the Verse in search of hope. That therein lied the rub; you can only go out on a limb when you lack options.

The pulse blipped back at them.

“Huh,” she breathed.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked her, and she stayed silent. She got back the same number of signals again. The artificial one had moved, only now it was a different wavelength. Then it clicked for Corina; this guy was constantly shifting his broadcast signal and likely bouncing it off all the rocks. They could have dumped out a bunch of little drones all over that field, all broadcasting at different intervals.

Was there a pattern? She wondered. She sent out another pulse and listened hard. She heard an imperceptible ping go off micro seconds before a larger, more prominent ping went off. She marked that on her screen and then sent off another one to be sure.

There, again. The Galaxy Brain’s ship responded to each pulse by pinging one of the fakes, possibly through the Bleed, which would explain why they were so quiet. Corina marked all the anomalies that answered her calls on the screen and then ran calculations to pinpoint the ship's location. She based the search parameters on the time difference between the more minor ping and the louder ones.

“Ha! I got you!” She said out loud. “It’s parked behind the sun!” She pulled off her helmet and let it retract back into the hatch above her. She called up the image she had been looking at and displayed it in front of them on the main screen. The AI drew circles around multiple spots on the system map, light hours apart. A line traveled through each ring and connected them; from there, it disappeared behind the star.

She thought it was clever having a call and response system out there while the real thing just sat parked and shielded by the white dwarf. The sheer volume of electromagnetic energy did most of the heavy lifting here as far as stealth went; the beacons were just a bit of flavoring. Corina took control of the ship and guided it closer to the star.

She increased the ion propulsion by a few C’s, and the stellar object grew larger with each passing second. She needed to be careful here as the star's gravitational pull would naturally increase their pace. Fly too close, and they’d have to worry about radiation burns, and that’s just for starters. She eased up on the throttle, hit the right speed, and skimmed the star’s gravitational pull.

The Huffman slingshotted around the star.

As they made the trip, a small oblong dot gradually grew more prominent. It was a ship, the ship, the one belonging to the Galaxy Brain. It was jet black and shaped like a cartoon drawing of a leg of ham. The engines were near the wide end and had stylish fins at four different points around them. A small view port near the front was a polarized red; a cone-shaped fuel scoop gathering heat was out near the nose.

There was no such thing as a free jump. Every trip to the Bleed required fuel. As such, every bleed engine ran on solar radiation. All one had to do was fly close enough to the star to begin collecting it, which was surprisingly more manageable than it sounded, provided you had a fast enough scoop. Some scoops could take upwards of 30 Solstan minutes to give a full tank. That’s a long time to spend dancing with a floating nuclear reactor.

A red light flashed in Corina’s thoughts; they were getting hailed on the coms. She tapped a button on her chair, and a window opened on the screen in front of her. It was a video depicting a man eating a burger cut in a 30-second loop joined by a digitized voice.

“Congratulations.” The voice sounded like ancient talk-to-text, where every syllable gets pronounced emphatically. “Cut your power. Any closer, and I’ll blow your little ship to bitty pieces.”

A warning notification appeared on Corina’s instruments, indicating the other ship had them locked on and targeted. She had no interest in a ship-to-ship fight, mainly because this ship had no weapons. She was a not-bad pilot in her own right, sure, but she wasn’t keen to put it to the test. In theory, she could probably survive such an explosion and take that ship out with her bare hands before it had a chance to rerun targeting algorithms; Sam was perhaps another story. Reluctantly, she powered down the engines.

“Smart.” The video continued to play on a loop before abruptly switching to a clip of a strawberry milkshake sucked through a comically large straw. “Now, what can Mr. Galaxy Brain do for you?”

Corina folded her arms and asked, “The so-called ‘Smartest Man in the Verse’ can’t bother to show his face?”

“Surely you didn’t travel however long you traveled just to ask me that?”

“Why, is there a limit?”

“The only limits are bound by your credit, dear—or lack thereof,” the voice replied.

“I’ve got credits,” Sam interjected.

“Oh, I’m sure you do, considering the company you keep,” it said. “The price is dictated by what you ask.”

Corina decided to cut to the chase: “What is Uzrath?”

There was a silence that stretched for milliseconds. The milkshake had refilled no less than ten times before it spoke again:

“That’s an expensive question.”

“Why?”

“That’s relatively cheaper.”

Corina breathed out her nose heavily as her patience was thin. She looked toward Sam with scrunched-up eyebrows; he responded by ticking his head to his right, silently telling her to get on with it.

“Here, this one is free,” it decided to say. “It’s ancient knowledge. Very little written out there, making the information itself quite rare.” Somehow the robot voice had a tint of glee when it uttered that last sentence. Corina folded her arms again; ancient knowledge?

“How much?” She asked. There was silence again, this one longer. The video switched once more; now, it featured a headless chicken that would fall, get shocked, then get back up repeatedly on a loop. She hated this.

“Tell you what,” the voice finally said. “I think a favor from the infamous Lady Steel would be worth quite a lot.”

Corina scowled, “Excuse me?”

“I give you the answers you seek; you owe me a favor,” it told her. “Simple.”

“What sort of favor?” She asked, expecting the worst possible answer.

“I won’t know until I know,” it replied, somehow managing to eclipse even her bottom-of-the-barrel expectations. The idea of owing someone, or thing, a nebulous favor didn’t sit right with her at all.

“I’d rather pay you,” Corina stated flatly.

“Credits I have,” it said. “Take it or leave it.”

Corina pursed her lips. Roxanne needed her; she had no choice. “Fine,” she relented. The picture in the video winked out for a micro-second before returning, with all the previous videos switching off 30-seconds at a time.

“Tell me everything,” she breathed.

“There isn’t a lot,” it said. “What is there is mostly a 300th hand account, oral histories passed on from civilization to civilization and zero primary sources.”

“Just get on with it.”

“It’s been said that when life began, there were four species across a scattering of worlds. The Uzrath, the Langon, the Desins, and the Shendo. They’re all long gone now, but they’ve been known mythically as The Four.”

“Wait, so you’re saying Uzrath was the name of one of the first civilizations?”

“Correct, millions—possibly billions—of years ago, they all supposedly existed.”

“Why do you say supposedly?”

“Again, no primary sources. Someone told someone else, and so on; it seems very few historians actually believe The Four is little more than a myth.”

“Great,” she sighed.

“If it helps, there’s far more written about The Uzrath than any others.”

“Like?”

“They were a race of technological forgers who made wondrous, and supposedly impossible, machines and technology, ” the voice paused. The low humming from the powered-down engines filled the stagnant air in the cockpit.

“Did we seriously just lose him?” Sam asked.

“If only; I’d not have to watch a chicken lose its head for the billionth time,” Corina said under her breath.

“I’m just reminded of another legend,” the voice finally piped in. “Have you heard of ‘The Urgineer’?”

Corina scoffed, but Sam butted in by asking: “What’s that?” Which took her by surprise. The Urgineer was one of the biggest tall tales spacers told each other; it surprised her the kid had never heard it before.

“When you need something built,” the voice answered. “Like, say, an ‘impossible’ weapon? One seeks out the Urgineer. It has been said that he is the oldest being in the universe; do you see the connection?”

“Yeah, they’re both not real,” Corina answered back, although she needed to believe the Uzrath were real for Roxanne's sake.

“Lords, save me from dealing with feeble small minds,” the voice said.

“Listen, buddy,” Corina snapped back. “I need to know if there’s anything about possibly where the Uzrath planet was located—like even a rumored sector would do.”

“Lady, you just don’t get it. First, the deal with them is that their story ends in tragedy—as they so often do—one moment they’re a thriving race of people, and the next?” The video on the screen changed again, this time to an ancient newsreel of a bomb exploding.

“The planet blew up?”

“Or just disappeared. Not the important bit here, though! Keep up, please. The Uzrath made ‘impossible machines and technology,’ while an entirely separate legend concerning The Urgineer says he makes ‘impossible weapons.’ It shouldn’t take a genius like myself to put two and two together! Then again, I’m consistently surprised by people like you.”

Corina wished she could reach through the screen to throttle the person behind the voice.

“You want me to find a myth to find another myth, is that it?” She said.

“It can be taught!” It exclaimed. “But the Urgineer is no myth; I’ve met them.”

“Bull,” Corina said. The picture again changed; it was another video but not on a loop. It showed a large piece of technology, possibly a gun, with a grip and trigger like you’d expect but oddly shaped. The grip was attached to a round ball colored pure white while, on the side, a green meter of some sort sat. Protruding from that, a thick barrel with concentric rings led to another white sphere more petite than the one at the end.

A figure walked into the frame, picked up the gun, and presented it to the camera. The figure was scrawny; its head looked like the end of a burnt match. The figure aims, and the view swings to what they were aiming at: some creature Corina had never seen before. It had six short, squat legs, a thick, elongated body, and large tree trunk arms that ended in massive claws. Two stalks stuck up from the top of the torso with small balls at the end; Corina assumed these were eyes.

A loud whining sound fills the cabin air through onboard speakers. It cuts off suddenly; the silence is sharp, but then, bloop. Corina had never heard such a sound before. A small black energy sphere appeared next and hit the creature in the footage. In an instant, the beast imploded, crushed down to a single point while the black energy orb grew. Suddenly she could hear screams, and the feed cut. The previous clips hit the screen again; the greatest hits. The milk shake and the chicken; were rotated on a 30-second loop.

“The hell was that?” She asked.

“Black Hole Gun,” the voice answered. “I was put on to the weapon's existence by an old aquaintence. They claimed the maker was The Urgineer, so I sought him out. Like you, I’d heard the tales: the oldest intelligent creature in the universe; can make any weapon or item one desires. It was ridiculous on its face. Intellectual curiosity drove me; I did eventually find him. I purchased the weapon's schematics from him; it’s been trained on you this whole time.” This chilled Corina down to the bone. A black hole gun? Impossible felt like an understatement.

“So if I find the Urgineer, then I may find the Uzrath?” She asked, choosing to show she didn’t rate the threat.

“Indeed,” replied the Galaxy Brain. “It’s not much, but I suspect it’s more than what you’ve had.”

Corina almost laughed; he wasn’t wrong about that. “Where can I find him?” She asked.

“That info will cost another favor,” a big and bold number 2 flashed on the screen before resuming the loops. “Since it's different, you understand.”

Corina sighed, “Fine.” The voice chuckled; it surprised her how much she found it terrifying.

“He resides on a station that orbits a neutron star over by the Philospher’s Rift,” it replied. “I will transmit the coordinates.” They were on Corina’s screen instantly. She entered them into the galaxy map and was surprised to see it was a named star.

“Piox A,” she said out loud. “Gresh, that’s at the edge of the galaxy.”

“Quite the long trip from here.” There was that chuckle again; it made both Sam and her shiver.

“It’s my turn,” Sam interrupted. The video on the screen changed to a pro-wrestling match. A man in red trunks, and dazzling golden hair, picked up a much smaller man with red hair and slammed him into the mat again and again.

“Is she going to pay for you too?”

“I got cred,” Sam said defiantly. “What do you know about the OverHuman cure?” Corina’s head shot toward Sam immediately; that was something she hadn’t thought of in a long time. The video changed again; a boy chased a race car with a bright blue flag. At some point, the toy suddenly reversed and sent the kid end over end. The video looped.

“You can have that one for free,” the voice said. “There’s no such thing.”

“You’re lying!”

“That’s propaganda, kid,” Corina said. “You can’t cure us.”

Sam turned to her and stared; his eyes were sharp daggers. “No. I know it happened. And so do you,” he claimed emphatically. Corina turned a shade of red. She had hoped he was too young to remember it. She had spearheaded the movement to ban work on such a thing; she destroyed everything herself.

“I found documents; prototyping had begun,” Sam continued. “But the trail stops at the documents. There’s still a prototype out there, or at least the starting formula—don’t tell me there isn’t!”

“It got outlawed,” Corina said. “All samples destroyed; I made sure of that. No one has it.”

“Please,” disdain dripped from every letter out of his mouth. Sam felt she was being utterly patronizing. “Like laws have ever stopped anything ever.”

“Smart boy,” the voice interrupted. “It’s good to be skeptical. There is only one vial left; very rare. A collector’s item, you could say.”

Corina’s eyes shot back to the screen. Believe it or not, this was the craziest thing she’d heard in the entire conversation. Having something like that out there freaked her out. Back when it was a genuine possibility, she kept herself awake at night, wondering if she would take it. A so-called “cure”; it was tempting. She felt like Sam once, a long time ago. But the implications of doing so were enough to give her pause. Wanting a cure felt like othering herself, like separating herself from the human race, so she took a stand against it.

“I’ll buy it,” Sam said and interrupted her train of thought.

“You can’t afford it,” the Galaxy Brain said.

“Try me,” Sam said back.

“I’ll buy it.”

Sam’s gaze snapped back to Corina, with eyes as vast as two cue balls. Corina kept her eyes in front, ignoring the heat pumping her way.

“Another favor,” she said after a beat. The video changed once more; a swarm of hornets destroying a honey bee nest.

“3 favors from Lady Steel?” An exclamation point flashed briefly on the screen. “It’s yours!”

“Hey!” Sam shouted.

Corina ignored him, “I want you to eject it into that sun.”

“Hey, it’s your money, so to speak.”

“No, “ Sam shouted. “You can’t!”

“Yeah, I can,” Corina said. She turned to look at him; tears were streaming down his face creating parallel highways of saline. “Sorry, kid.”

On the view screen, the memetic videos finally winked out. Out there in the black, a small capsule jettisoned from the underside of the Galaxy Brain’s ship. Corina watched it slow down when caught in the gravity well.

Sam screamed.

Corina got that funny feeling in her bones again and turned to Sam’s chair. He was gone. She bent further only to catch his back as he scrambled for the airlock door. Docking tubes are typically connected to it when stopped at space stations.

If he opened that door in here…

Corina stood. She dug her foot into the floor; it gave a little. She was being half affected by his time dilation field. How her powers worked remained a mystery to her, and she just went with it typically. OverHuman scholars theorized that an invisible quantum distortion field surrounded her, allowing her to bend and break the laws of physics. She never cared to be studied.

She felt it would ruin the magic.

She caught herself and eased up on the pressure her foot was generating. Too much force and she would have gone through the hull. With a fraction of power, Corina pushed her legs through the time distortion and caught up to Sam instantly, tackling him to the ground.

“NO!” He shouted. “NONONONONO!” Corina held him down in a big bear hug. He fought her but felt useless.

“Get off me!” He screamed, clearly fed up.

“You gonna calm down?” She asked him. “No more murder/suicide attempts?”

“Screw you! Like you’d even die!” He bawled. “Let me go!”

She did. Sam stood there fuming, his shoulders rising up and down aggressively like pistons. He kept staring at her. There was so much he wished he could do. Rip her head off. Place an already fired rocket right next to her face.

It would all be useless.

“You-you think you speak for all of us, and that’s…bullshit!” He shouted. Corina expected this; she’d heard it all before. “You think you know what it’s like, but you don’t know shit! You sit in your ivory tower; you pose for pictures, you’re—you’re a god damned sell-out!” Corina still said nothing. The ranting seemed to do good for him. He was breathing less heavily now.

“I just wanted to be free; you think I like going around cheating at games and having to hurt people?”

“That’s the thing, Sam,” she told him. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to do any of that, you can get help for the addiction, and you could live your life out there and even do some real good.”

“Really easy for you to say.”

He stormed off after this. He sat on the floor near the back of the cabin and hugged his knees close to his chest. He kept his back to Corina and just buried his head into his knees. Corina sighed inwardly and returned to her seat; the Galaxy Brain was long gone. How a big ship could silently creep away baffled her, but she had other things on her mind. She called the helmet back down, interfaced once again with the onboard AI, and she plotted a course.

On to the Philosopher’s Rift.