Moments before everything went wrong, the bridge of the starcruiser was filled with a low murmur, the kind of subdued noise you'd hear in offices or restaurants.
The captain leaned back in his chair and took a lazy sip of black coffee, then yawned despite its bitterness. For all its grandeur—the title, the uniform, the authority—commanding a starcruiser felt no different from driving a subway train. The route was fixed. The procedures were automated. Day after day, nothing ever happened.
Thanks to Mistral, it never did.
Training, experience, judgment—none of it really mattered anymore. The AI handled navigation, safety checks, collision avoidance, emergency response. The captain was there to observe, approve, and look important. There was no oversight, no second layer of decision-making.
And for thirty years, that system had worked flawlessly.
Not a single accident.
"This is Starcruiser LX666, codename JX-2875," the operations officer announced, eyes flicking across the augmented displays hovering before him. "Initiating transfer from Sol to Alpha Centauri. Preparing to open the Einstein Bridge."
The data streamed in smoothly, projected across the bridge for all to see.
"Confirmed," the captain replied without looking up. "Proceed with signal handshake."
A beat passed.
Then Mistral spoke.
[Warning. Radar detects unidentified vessels approaching the gate perimeter.]
The captain nearly spat his coffee across the console.
"What?" He snapped upright, eyes darting to the threat display. Several red markers blinked into existence, moving fast—and broadcasting nothing.
Every legal vessel operating under the USF transmitted an identification signal. The only ships that didn't were pirates… or undercover military units.
"Maybe they're police," one crewman offered weakly, forcing a laugh. "Hahaha…"
Even he didn't sound convinced.
"There's no way undercover USF units would loiter this close to a gate!" the captain barked. "Use your head! Where's the navy?"
He slammed his coffee onto the table, dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to the controls as he scanned screen after screen.
"The nearest USF task force is close," another officer said quickly. "If we contact them now, they'll arrive in under an hour." He hesitated. "But… if these are bandits, they won't have time to rob us. Not like the incident thirty years ago."
"Then they're not bandits," the captain muttered. His jaw tightened. "Insurgents. Terrorists. Something worse."
He turned sharply. "Communications officer—contact USF Security now."
"Yes, sir." Fingers flew across the console. "Attempting standard channel—"
The officer stiffened.
"Jamming detected," he reported. "Switching to emergency beacon to bypass interference."
The bridge lights dimmed slightly as power rerouted. Outside, the Einstein Bridge continued to form—dark, eerie, and utterly indifferent.
The bridge lights dimmed as red warning strobes snapped to life, their pulses stretching jagged shadows across the consoles. A low klaxon throbbed beneath everything—steady, relentless, impossible to ignore.
The captain stood rigid beside his station, a half-finished cup of coffee cooling on the edge of the console. His fingers curled slowly, knuckles whitening as the air on the bridge seemed to thicken.
Across from him, the communications officer's hands flew over his panel. Sweat traced a line down his temple, vanishing into his collar.
"Sir," the warp drive officer said, eyes fixed on his readouts, "do you want me to abort the warp?"
His voice was controlled, but the tension showed in his hunched shoulders.
The captain turned, gaze locking onto the AR projection of their jump trajectory suspended in midair.
"Can we make it?" he asked.
The warp core's hum rose a fraction, vibrating faintly through the deck plates. The officer hesitated, then nodded.
"It's possible," he said. "But pushing it like this—" He stopped himself. Everyone on the bridge already knew how rushed jumps ended.
The captain didn't blink. "Then do it." His voice cut cleanly through the noise. "Mistral, declare an emergency. Initiate lifepod evacuation procedures."
[Roger. Emergency declared. Safety locks on emergency lifepods released. Directing passengers to lifepods.]
"Hold," the captain said immediately. "Load the pods, but don't launch them. We might still escape through the gate."
[Noted.]
A shrill alert sliced through the bridge, sharp enough to make several officers flinch.
"Unknown signatures inbound!" the comms officer shouted. "They're launching missiles!"
The holographic display flared as hostile contacts bloomed into existence—too fast, too close.
The impact came seconds later.
The ship shuddered violently, consoles rattling as the missile struck. Gravity shields flared, absorbing the worst of the blast. Lessons learned the hard way had paid off; after the last disaster, every USF starcruiser had been reinforced.
They carried no weapons due to regulations, but at least now, they could survive a hit or two.
"Damage?"
"Starboard gravity shielding compromised," the officer reported. "All other systems nominal. Shall I deploy probes as flares?"
"Do it." The captain slammed a fist against the console. "Damn it—those probes cost a fortune. Gate officer! When can we jump? We need to get out of this hellhole!"
Missiles and decoy probes flooded the tactical display, streaking past in chaotic arcs. No one noticed the small, unassuming beacon drifting away behind the ship, caught and pulled into the forming quantum tunnel.
"Captain," the gate officer said, voice tight, "the gate coordinates have been scrambled. We can't jump. There's no return on the handshake signal."
"All probes destroyed," another voice added.
"Shit." The captain exhaled sharply. "Open a channel. Let's hear what they want."
"Connection established. On screen."
The bridge lights dimmed further as a hostile feed filled the main display.
"We are the Children of Sol," the distorted voice declared. "Sol is our home. All trespassers are heretics."
"Damn it," the captain muttered, rubbing his temples. "Why us? Why now?"
[Hypothesis: The hostile force intends to transport a specialized missile through the quantum tunnel during a hyperspace jump. Detonation within the tunnel would annihilate both the departure and arrival gates, triggering a catastrophic explosion and sealing the Sol and Alpha Centauri systems for decades.]
"Close the gate. Now," the captain ordered. "We cannot risk its destruction."
"Understood. Gate closing."
"Sir—missile lock detected. Incoming!"
"Brace and tank it," the captain snapped. "Bring us head-on. Put the thickest armor forward. Do not let them hit the engines."
"Yes, sir!"
"When will the fleet arrive?" the captain asked quietly. "Should we deploy the lifeboats?"
For the first time, doubt crept into his voice. He was already forming the words for a full evacuation order when—
"They're here," the comms officer said. "Allied signatures arriving at 0.01 AU, starboard side."
Another missile barrage slammed into the hull, the ship groaning under the strain.
Then space itself split with a silver flash.
A patrol corvette tore into realspace, its high-pulse laser firing in the same instant. The beam carved cleanly through the rebel craft, reducing it to drifting debris in a single, decisive strike.
"Damn it—late as usual. Still… thanks for coming," the captain muttered. "You showed up just in time."
He turned to the damage report hovering beside him in AR. The cruiser's outline glowed amber, scarred but intact. She could still fly—but only barely. A full overhaul awaited them once they reached the shipyard.
"This ship is brand new," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Black Diamond Group is going to skin me alive. Thirty years without a single accident, and now this? Is this cruiser cursed?" He let out a dry laugh. "At least there were no casualties. Yeah… I should emphasize that in the report. Might even earn a commendation."
A soft chime interrupted him.
[Lifepod Four missing. Signal lost at 13:14:32 Standard United Space Federation Time.]
"What?" The captain froze. "How?"
The color drained from his face in an instant. His carefully composed report shattered before it was even written.
[Lifepod Four launched successfully at 13:13:25 via manual override. Hypothesis: the pod was pulled into the quantum tunnel during the gate signal handshake.]
The captain's lips parted, but no sound came out.
"Who…" he whispered, dread crawling up his spine. "Who was in that lifepod?"
His mind raced—not for the passengers, not yet—but for the weight of history pressing down on him. A safe post. A flawless record. Gone. For the first time in decades, a starcruiser under his command had suffered casualties.
[Cross-checking passenger registry. Seven passengers from M-5 Elementary School failed to respond to Mistral's signal handshake. Identified as:
Lazarus
Shingo
Laurel
Bob
Anna
Xiaolang
Lexus]
The captain's gaze locked onto the final name.
The bridge seemed to tilt.
His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the deck without a sound.
—--------------------------------------------
Laurel checked the display again. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Mistral wasn't there.
"Mistral…?" She blinked and leaned closer, as if the interface itself were lying to her. The familiar system icon was gone.
"Huh?"
She tilted her head, confusion momentarily drowning out the dread creeping up her spine.
"Oi—what the heck is this!?" Lexus leaned over his seat, jabbing at his own panel. "Mistral isn't in the server list! Bob, check yours! This is ridiculous—I'm complaining to Papa later. Mistral's supposed to be online in every colony and every star system!"
Bob glanced down, then slowly shook his head.
"He's gone on mine too."
"Maybe it's because we're inside a hyperspace tunnel," Shingo said after a moment. "There's no network connection inside the tunnel. No internet, no system access."
"Ah…" Laurel exhaled, nodding as she latched onto the explanation. "Right. That makes sense."
She forced her shoulders to relax and buckled her seatbelt again. "Once we arrive at Alpha Centauri's Interstellar Gate, Mistral will reconnect. Then we can launch the emergency signal."
She stared ahead, repeating the thought in her mind like a mantra. We'll arrive. Everything will be fine.
It didn't take long for the silence to creep in.
The lifepod hummed softly, drifting through the tunnel as ribbons of blue light flowed endlessly past the small window. The sound was constant—too constant. Even Laurel began shifting in her seat.
Lazarus pressed her face close to the glass. "Hey… isn't traveling through a hyperspace tunnel supposed to be faster than this?"
"It is," Anna muttered. "I've gone through a gate before. It didn't take this long."
Laurel stood and joined them, peering into the stream of bluish flares set against the black void beyond. "Shingo. What do you think?"
"Hm…" Shingo rubbed his chin. "Maybe the captain forced the jump to escape the terrorists. If the gate didn't have enough power, the transit could slow down." He hesitated. "At least… I think so."
"You think?" Lexus groaned. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart guy."
"Hey! Don't blame me!" Shingo snapped back. "This has never happened before. There's nothing about this in the online wikis!"
"But…" Laurel's voice softened. She scanned the tunnel again. "Where's the starcruiser?"
The question hung in the air.
Their lifepod was alone—no shadow ahead, no massive hull following behind. Just a small capsule drifting through an endless hyperspace tunnel.
"I don't know about that," Shingo said, his brow creasing as he stared at the void beyond the window. "Maybe they went ahead of us. Our hyperspace speed could be different from the starcruiser's."
"But I don't see any other lifepod," Anna muttered, her eyes darting across the darkness.
"Yeah…" Lazarus swallowed. "Ours was the only one that detached."
The memory struck her again, sharp and cold.
"Huh? Why?" Anna's voice wavered. "Why just us?" Her breathing quickened. Tears pooled in her eyes as she turned to Shingo, grasping at him like a lifeline. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, right? Tell me it's not!"
Shingo opened his mouth—
"Look!" Xiaolang, silent until now, was pointing at the window. "We're out of hyperspace! Wait… what is that?"
The blue torrents vanished in an instant.
Silence replaced them.
Normal space unfolded outside the lifepod, vast and eerily calm. And there—hanging in the middle of the void—floated a planet.
A sapphire sphere bathed in distant sunlight. Oceans shimmered like liquid glass, broken by wide, breathing continents of green. White clouds curled lazily across the surface, while jagged mountain ranges carved scars of gray and snow through the land. A thin halo of atmosphere caught the light, crowning the world in a fragile glow.
Beautiful. Alien. Wrong.
"Shingo…" Anna whispered, her voice barely there. "Where… are we?"
Tch. School is boring. Why do we even have to go? Everyone knows Mistral trains you once you get a job anyway.
~ Lexus