The craft's interior felt impossibly strange, all sharp edges and unfamiliar angles. I hesitated at the hatch, my hand still touching the cold metal frame. Behind me lay everything I had ever known. The functionaries' clicking language, Mother's precise movements, Rashala's contained chaos, Father's gentle confusion. Ahead was... nothing I understood.

"Come on," Larkin said from inside. "We don't have much time."

I pulled myself through the hatch, immediately struck by how different the air tasted. There was no trace of the metallic tang that permeated our voidhold, neither was there that hint of the Garden Room's organic scents. This air smelled flat and used, as if it had long been under a human’s touch.

"Over here." Larkin guided me to a seat flapped down from the wall. "I have a spare suit somewhere..." He rummaged through a compartment, muttering to himself. "I can’t seem to…I mean, it'd be too big for you anyway... never mind. It's just secondary protection in case we run into difficulty. I'll fly safe."

I ran my fingers over the seat's surface. Like everything else in the craft, it felt odd, with little ripples and bumps. A little bit tacky, pulling at the fingertips.

"Put your harness on," Larkin instructed, pulling straps from recesses in his own seat. "There are vortices between us and Voidhold Two. You'll need to be secured."

"Where are the viewports?" I asked, looking around for some way to see into the void beyond. The thought of flying blind made my chest tight.

He grinned, already pulling on his helmet. "Nope. I see it all in here." He tapped the helmet's surface. "360 enhanced vision across multiple spectra. About as much as my organic eyes can process anyway." He settled into what looked like a couch molded to his form. "Now, I need you to give your consent for us to depart. You can speak into that mesh over there."

The familiar request in this unfamiliar setting made something twist inside me.

"I consent," I said, the words barely a whisper.

"Good. Now steady yourself. It's going to be rough." He adjusted something on his helmet. "If you want to tell me something, try and keep it to yourself for a while I won't be able to respond until we reach the Steadies, so...just sit tight."

"Okay." I gripped the harness, trying to find a comfortable position.

A soft hum built around us, rising from somewhere deep in the craft’s core. Then a hiss, and suddenly my stomach lurched as gravity seemed to let go. We were floating, the sensation so foreign that a small sound escaped me. Then came the first surge of forward movement, and I gripped the harness with a gasp. There was a slight rise, a dip, and then— boomph!

The craft lurched sideways and took a sudden dive. I scrunched my eyes shut tight, my stomach threatening to rebel. Then, through clenched teeth, I heard a voice, more delicate than that of the functionaries, almost gentle.

New biological signature detected. Please identify.

I glanced around, but Larkin was lost beneath his helmet, focused on the controls, his body moving with the lurching of the craft. I remained silent, uncertain if I had imagined it.

Please identify, the voice repeated.

"I am Shade," I whispered.

Welcome Shade of Voidhold Zero. Please pay attention to this safety briefing: In the event of hull breach, remain in your harness. Atmospheric stabilization will engage automatically. Do not attempt to take control of the craft.

Another violent shudder ran through the craft. The voice continued, unperturbed.

The void streams between voidholds are unstable. Your body will experience forces beyond normal tolerance. Anti-nausea medication is available in the compartment to your left.

The craft twisted, metal groaning. I fumbled for the compartment, finding a small injector.

Apply to neck when needed. Please note that in case of power loss, emergency protocols will redirect all energy to life support. Navigation and propulsion will be sacrificed to maintain atmosphere and temperature. Survival time in such conditions: approximately six hours.

"Who are you?" I asked between jolts.

Minnow of Voidhold Four. I am this craft's management system. Please brace for upcoming turbulence. Major vortex detected in our flight path.

The warning came just as we hit the vortex. The craft spun, my harness digging into my shoulders. I lost all sense of up and down, my world reduced to the bite of restraints and the roar of engines fighting against chaos.

"Are you a functionary?" I gasped when the spinning slowed. "I can't see you."

I am integrated into this craft's systems. My protocols are specific to voidflight and passenger survival. You are now entering a period of relative calm. Please utilize this time to stabilize your breathing pattern.

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The craft's movements smoothed out, though occasional shudders still ran through the frame. I realised I was clutching the injector so tightly my fingers had gone numb. Slowly, I made myself relax my grip.

Would you like an assessment of your current physical status?

Before I could respond, Larkin's voice cut in: "Are you alright? That is worse than I thought it would be."

“I am fine!”

“Great! Voidhold Two is not far, it has been holding formation with Zero for some time now. Not that you’d realise it, of course.”

Entering stable void stream. Auto-navigation recommended.

The craft's motion smoothed out, the violent jolts giving way to a gentler swaying. The change in movement seemed to release some of the tension in Larkin. He removed the helmet, revealing hair slick with sweat. His hands shook slightly as he keyed in a sequence on the control panel.

Automatic systems engaged. Flight path stable.

"Voidflight suits you," Larkin said, studying my face. "You look more alive, somehow."

I touched my forehead, feeling the heat there. The excitement of flight had left me flushed, my heart still racing from the turbulence. "Is it always like this?"

"The void?" He shrugged. "Every flight is different. The streams shift constantly, influenced by the storms.”

Would you like a detailed analysis of current void conditions? I have extensive data on stream patterns and vortex formation.

I stayed silent, realising that Larkin couldn't hear these words. He was focused on the controls, muttering calculations to himself as he examined our course.

"We're riding a strong current," he explained, pointing to a basic navigation display. "Should take us to Voidhold Two in about four hours, if we're lucky."

The void streams form natural corridors through Mosogon's storms. Rivers of relatively stable space.

A small display flickered to life on the hull beside me. It showed swirling purple currents against the darkness, with a tiny black dot moving through them.

“Is that us?” I whispered.

Yes. Please note that 'void' is a misnomer. It is not true emptiness. It is chaos. The streams carry echoes of the voidholds' movements and histories, but they are beyond our comprehension.

"Is everything okay?" Larkin asked, noticing my distraction. "You are surprisingly calm for someone on their first flight outside."

"I’m just thinking about the void," I said carefully. "It must be beautiful."

He smiled. "Yes, the colours are incredible." He turned back to the controls. "Especially in a maelstrom, though hopefully we won't encounter any of those before we reach Two."

I am detecting increased turbulence ahead. Nothing severe, but you may wish to re-check your harness.

I tightened the straps, earning an approving nod from Larkin. "Good instincts," he said. "Our systems must be picking up something."

The turbulence hit harder than Minnow's warning had suggested. The craft bucked, and I fought to keep my breathing steady as my stomach lurched. Larkin's hands flew over the controls, but the shuddering continued.

"Hmm." He frowned at his instruments. "Let me check something." He began pulling equipment from various compartments, his movements quick but precise.

Vital signs indicate motion sickness. Adjusting cabin pressure.

The subtle shift in air pressure made my head spin. Larkin must have noticed my discomfort because he reached for a medical kit. "First time in the void can be rough," he said. "There's no shame in needing a stabilizer. Even experienced pilots use them sometimes."

"No, I'm... a little dizzy that's all."

"Your color's off," he said, studying my face. "Here..." He rummaged through the medical kit and produced a small mirror. "Take a look for yourself."

I stiffened. In the voidhold, my reflection had been carefully controlled, limited to glimpses in polished panels, sometimes a brief look in Oren's monitoring screen. Mother had never allowed me near the full-length mirror in her quarters. I hesitated.

“Go on,” he said.

The mirror felt strange in my hand, heavier than expected. My eyes found my reflection. The starburst scar from PQ9's exploding head was flushed from excitement or fear. I touched my veil, feeling the familiar fabric beneath my fingers.

“Do you want to take it off?” he asked carefully.

"I..." The words caught in my throat. "I think I want to see. Just to see."

Warning: Biometric readings suggest emotional distress.

But I was already pulling at the fabric, tugging against where it was sealed to my skin. The need to know, to truly see myself, had become suddenly overwhelming.

"Hang on, you’ll take your skin off." Larkin took a tool from the medkit. "Here. This cleaver should work. Do you want me to try?”

“Yes.”

His fingers found the bioseal points by my ears, then I felt the warm touch of the tool's tip. The veil came away with a soft rasp, and cool air touched my face. The sensation was so foreign that I gasped.

Heart rate increasing. Adjusting air temperature.

I lifted the tiny mirror and stared at my reflection, at features I knew only by touch. The scar ran below my nose from left cheek to right, a clean line that had long since faded. But the rest of my face seemed... normal. Pleasant, even. I had no real reference for beauty, but nothing about my appearance disturbed me.

"Don't worry," Larkin said, his voice thick with sympathy. "When we get to Voidhold Two, we can fix that for you. Make you as pretty as your sister."

I lowered the mirror slowly. His words — fix me, make me pretty, like Rashala — knocked around in my head. Was that what he saw when he looked at me? Something to be corrected?

"Try to rest," Larkin said, misreading my expression. "First void flight takes a lot out of you. We've got a few hours yet."

He was right about my exhaustion, at least. The combination of fear, excitement, and the craft’s constant motion had drained me. I leaned back in my seat, letting my eyes close. Sleep seemed impossible with so many new sensations, like the brush of air against my bare face, the subtle vibrations through the hull, the occasional shift in momentum as we rode the streams. But eventually the gentle motion of the craft and the soft hum of its systems lulled me into an uneasy dream state.

I dreamt of Oren's broken form, of Mother's disapproving gaze, of Rashala's toy chest full of smashed mechanical birds. The images blurred together with the lilac swirl of Mosogon's storms, until I wasn't sure what was memory and what was void-induced hallucination.

Periodic status update. All systems nominal. Rest cycle proceeding normally.

The quiet voice anchored me, keeping the dreams from becoming too vivid. Time stretched and compressed like the void streams themselves, until a change in the craft's motion brought me back to full awareness.

Approaching voidhold proximity range. Stand by for contact.

Through the craft's hull came a new sound, a deep, resonant tone that made my teeth vibrate. Then a voice, different from Minnow's, deeper and more certain and echoing through the whole cabin.

“Incoming transmission from Voidhold Two. Priority signal from Chio."

A light on Larkin's face lit up. "Right on schedule! Now, Shade, this next part is very important. When Chio speaks to us—"

But whatever he was about to say was cut off by a burst of static, followed by the now familiar speech of functionaries.

Alert. You are within range of Voidhold Two.