There are a lot of stories about the drift, that space ships enter when we engage our e-drives to travel faster than light. Every spacer worth their salt has a story about hearing voices in transit or feeling a disembodied presence, and I was no exception - I’d had more than my fair share of strange drift encounters, none of which bore talking about.

The noises I heard when dropping out the drift by Calia, however, were strange. Largely because we weren’t in the drift.

“Overseer,” I muttered, “Where’s Bonfire?”

Misstress Bonfire is in her cabin.

“Who else is on board?”

Secure an advantage: Weak Hit

Detecting one other life sign besides you and Mistress Bonfire.

Shit. Okay. Not good. Fuck.

“Where?”

Secure an advantage: Weak Hit

Cargo bay.

“Great. Okay. Tell Bonfire there is an intruder in the cargo bay. I’m investigating but she should stand by.”

Understood Ash.

I took a deep breath and drew my flames to the surface of my skin, allowing them to grow and wrap me in their comforting warmth.

Then, I grabbed my pistol and went to the cargo bay.

Face Danger: Miss

The Nomad’s cargo bay was creepy at the best of times, and now was most certainly not the best of times. I wasn’t a cargo hauler, so the bay was a mess, still not cleared out from when the ship was under Spherie possession. The lights were off to preserve power right now, and I didn’t want them on because that would alert whoever was aboard.

There was a distinct clank behind me.

I froze, heart racing.

Enter The Fray: Weak Hit

A rustle of clothing, a mass about to collide with me. I quickly stepped out of the way and a large figure barrelled past. White clothing. Thick black tattoos. Spherie.

Gain Ground: Weak Hit

I grabbed for my pistol and, before they recovered, managed to squeeze off a round.

Strike: Weak Hit

The bullet tore through their white shirt, red stained black in the shadows. Before I had chance to fire again, they had their own firearm levelled at me. Shit. I dove for cover.

React Under Fire: Weak Hit

Endure Harm: Strong Hit

Something hot and sharp skimmed my arm - not a direct hit, but blood was oozing slowly from a tear in my sleeve where it skimmed me. It was the same arm the kind folks at Reverie had just fixed up for me - now I was just annoyed.

I leaned out, fired back.

Clash: Strong Hit

A grunt of pain. I yelled, “Stop shooting and I might let you live!” feeling particularly dramatic as I did so.

Take Decisive Action: Weak Hit

There was no reply. Then, a sharp crack of gunfire.

No bullet had flown past me.

I peered back out. Where the Spherie’s head had been, there was just a bloody red mess. I groaned. Of course.

#

Heal: Miss

Endure Harm: Weak Hit

You are making it worse, Ash

I scowled at the increasingly vicious looking line the handheld skinknit was carving across my bicep. "I am well aware."

Items from the med kit - mostly salvaged, were scattered across the rickety orange plastic table in the galley. I'd discarded two other skinknits before finding one that actually worked, this one branded with the half rubbed off, overly peppy label of some pharmaceutical company. I hadn't realised t the time that just finding the life saving medical equipment whilst bleeding all over the ship would be the easy part.

"Ash, there is a dead body in the cargo bay."

"I know that too!" I snapped as the skinknit swerved again, this time doing the opposite of what it was supposed to do and pushing the wound open even further.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Bonfire took one look at me and scoffed, "Give me that."

I relinquished custody of the device and she took it in her hand. She was more or less fully armoured again now, and I could see my face reflected in the shiny plating. Shadowed eyes. Peaked skin. Stubble starting to build up to the point where it couldn't really just bd called 'stubble' anymore.

I sighed and ran my uninjured hand down the side of my face as Bonfire worked, the skinknit pinching as she rolled the device competently down my arm.

Heal: Strong Hit

"You're good at that," I noted.

She scoffed, "You're just terrible at it."

We fell back into silence as she finished off, leaving nothing behind but a shiny pink scar. She pressed a thin sheet of synthskin over the scar to keep it from being disturbed whilst it healed, then carefully packed the skinknit away.

"Thanks," I said, giving the area a tap, "Look at me, getting patched up by a whole other actual person twice in a row."

You would almost think you were popular, Ash.

"And that was almost not an insult!"

Bonfire didn't say anything, and when I turned to look at her, she seemed… sad.

"Hey, what's up?"

“Your… siblings.”

Oh.

“What about them?” I said carefully.

“You were not close,” she said.

I set about tidying the scattered medkit back into the repurposed plastic tool box I kept it in. In truth, that was a question I wasn’t sure I could answer. I didn’t remember very much about anything from Datura. I knew that it was horrible, that the thought of my family being trapped there still made me sick, but a lot of the details were blurry.

“I… might have been?” I said, “I don’t really remember much about any of them. I told you that, didn’t I”

She pressed the tips of her fingers against the edge of the table. “I find it difficult to comprehend. Are our brothers and sisters not the most important people in our lives? They are the only people in the entire world who can profess to truly understand where we come from.”

“Your sister?” I said.

She looked away, jaw working. “That was…” She screwed up her hands into fists. “My own doing. I slighted her. Betrayed her. She is right to be pursuing me.”

I waited to see if she was going to say anything else, then when she didn’t. I said quietly, “I’m not exactly the expert here, but it sounds like there had to have been a lot of love between you two, for there to be so much hurt.”

“There was.” She cleared her throat and straightened. “There is also still a dead body in the cargo bay.”

“Hey, it’s my ship and I’ll keep dead bodies in the cargo bay if I want to!”

Can you really call it your ship when you stole it?

“They tried to murder me first,” I said “I say we’re square.”

We went to the cargo bay together, and Bonfire carefully inspected the body for any clues as to how they’d caught up to us.

Gather Information: Miss w/ A Match

From a blood soaked pocket, she pulled a note out and handed it to me. I examined it, squinting to see through the stains.

On it was written only one word: Soon.

This hadn’t been a genuine attempt to retrieve or kill me.

This was a promise.

I swallowed down bile and turned to Bonfire. “Let’s get him out of here.”

“Are you–”

“Now, please.”

Together, we hauled the dead Spherie out to the airlock, then mopped up the snail like trail of blood he left behind him with a box of white Spherie robes I found in one of the boxes, ignoring Overseer’s protestations over how disrespectful that was.

Perhaps swayed by Overseer’s complaints, Bonfire stared down at the intruder, a slight frown on her lips, “Do Spheries have funeral traditions?”

“Yes,” I said, “They get flushed unceremoniously out of the airlock.”

I pressed the button, and the airlock vented the Spherie’s body out into the darkness of space.

I turned to Bonfire. “E-drive’s all charged up, so I suggest we get out of here, before anything else crawls out the woodwork.”

Embark on A Journey: Weak Hit

#

I knew the drift like the back of my hand. The twists and turns of space and time, nothing but a few centimetres of steel separating me from the powers of creation themselves.

Spacers don’t talk about what happens in the drift, and with good reason, but we all know the one rule; don’t go in without a clear head, and never, ever, leave your seat.

“Soon.” A voice whispered in my ear.

I’d heard voices in the drift before. Felt the sensation of nails digging into my arm. Felt breath on the back of my neck.

This though…

“Soon!”

It screamed and I flinched, hands almost flying to my ears before I remembered I needed them on The Nomad’s controls.

Endure Stress: Miss

Something wet and hot dripped onto my shoe. I looked down.

A bloody, pulsing heart lay on the control panel.

Face Danger: Weak Hit

Endure Stress: Strong Hit

“No,” I whispered, “This is the drift. Not real.”

A heavy weight wrapped around my legs. Cold and clinging. I didn’t dare look down. Knew that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to cope with what I saw.

“What are you afraid of Ash?” a young girl whispered in my ear.

Face Danger: Miss With A Match.

She trailed a cold finger down my cheek.

I wasn’t touching the controls anymore, instead I scrambled out of my chair, wrenching myself away from the apparition.

In front of me stood a girl of no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. She wore a white cotton shift, legs bare from the knees down, long blonde hair tangled and knotted, grease plastering it to her scalp.

None of that mattered though. Not when there was a giant gaping hole in her chest, blood dripping down her front, landing on the deck in soft plunks.

She crouched in front of me. Crawled closer. Closer. I was frozen. Completely incapable of moving as she gripped my jaw and whispered into my ear, “Did you miss me?”

Face Danger:Miss

Endure Stress: Miss: Shaken