Carrick stayed seated, forearms on the table, the earlier heat drained from him but not the awareness. The sedative hadn’t dulled his thoughts so much as filed down their urgency.

  He regretted it already.

  Roarke stood a few paces away, watching him.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Carrick considered the question.

  “Fine,” he said. He frowned. “That’s the problem.”

  Mavik glanced up. “You were losing control,” he said. “You needed it.”

  “I asked for it,” Carrick replied, his voice steady. “But this feels weird.”

  “Acute stress distorts judgement,” Mavik said. “I reduced the distortion.”

  Carrick flexed his hands and leaned back in his chair. The motion felt oddly deliberate, as if his body were following instructions rather than impulse.

  “I can still think,” he said. “I just don’t feel like throwing chairs.”

  “Order is progress,” Mavik said.

  “I know,” he said. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have done it.”

  He paused, choosing his words with unfamiliar ease.

  “I’m saying it scares me how reasonable everything feels.”

  “Is he functional?” the captain asked.

  Carrick answered before Mavik could. “I’m right here.”

  Roarke held his gaze. “I know. I meant, can you work?”

  Carrick nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good, we need to find a way out of this,” Roarke said.

  Outside the viewport, the stars remained exactly where they were.

  “Elliot,” Roarke said. “Send a distress call. All frequencies.”

  “Distress call already initiated.”

  Roarke frowned. “When?”

  “Security officer Rook initiated distress call alpha after the malfunction of stasis pod six.”

  “Everybody to the bridge. Now.”

  The captain left the mess at a brisk pace.

  As he passed med-bay, Roarke slowed, without breaking stride.

  “Rook. With me.”

  The security officer fell in at his side.

  Roarke glanced back once.

  “Hale,” he said. “When you’re ready.”

  Hale hesitated, eyes flicking to her sleeping sister, then turned and followed.

  Mavik and Carrick came after them, neither speaking.

  Back on the bridge, Roarke took his seat. “Rook, explain the distress signal.” He didn’t look up from his terminal.

  “Mission protocol. INA were to be informed of any change in the passenger's status.”

  “She’s called Cassie,” Hale said as she settled into her post.

  Roarke looked up. “Distress call alpha? That’s a bit of an overreaction, isn’t it?”

  “Other methods had failed,” Rook replied. “Distress call alpha was the only option.”

  “Next time,” he said, “you inform me first. Mission protocol or not.”

  Rook said nothing.

  “Right, we’ve nothing left to do but wait.”

  “I’ll start prepping the stasis pods,” Mavik said immediately.

  “After what happened to pod six? Are you mad?” Carrick said.

  “Only one pod malfunctioned. There’s nothing to suggest the others are affected,” Mavik said.

  “And there’s nothing to suggest they aren’t,” Roarke said. “Stasis pods are out until we find out what happened to six, and we’re sure the others aren’t compromised.”

  “But captain, we don’t have enough food. We’re a jump ship. We’re supposed to go from starport to starport, not drift around in deep space.”

  “We have enough food for a week or so, more if we ration it. That will give us time to find out what happened to pod six. And if we haven’t been rescued by the time it runs out, I will reconsider stasis.”

  “Protein blocks and recycled urine,” Carrick said. “That’s not a plan, that’s an endurance test.”

  “Elliot, establish diurnal cycle, synchronised to INA standard time.”

  “INA standard time benchmark unavailable for synchronisation.”

  “Then improvise, goddammit. Synchronise from departure time plus four hours.”

  “Entering night mode,” ELIOT said.

  The bridge lights dimmed.

  “Let’s get this started,” Carrick said. He took a diagnostic tablet and walked over to the arc of stasis pods at the back of the bridge.

  After a few minutes, he announced, “Nothing wrong with pod one.”

  He repeated the routine with each of the pods, with the same result each time. Fully functioning. In theory.

  As he moved to the final pod, Rook stood.

  “Don’t worry, the diagnostics are a separate system. Different access port. But if you have to shoot me for breaching your precious data, do it. You’ve already decided we’re expendable.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Rook sat back down.

  “Nothing wrong with pod six either,” Carrick said after a while. “If the diagnostics are to be believed.”

  “But we know six failed, so they can’t be believed,” Hale said.

  “And that puts them all in doubt,” Roarke said.

  “Sounds familiar,” Carrick said under his breath.

  “Six was the only pod online when we dropped. The others were offline or tapering,” Hale said.

  “I suppose that makes sense. But why can’t we pinpoint the fault?”

  Carrick sat down and leaned into his console, pulling up logs.

  “Because nothing tripped,” he said. “No thresholds crossed. From the ship’s point of view, pod six behaved exactly as it was supposed to, right up until it didn’t.”

  Roarke frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

  “It is,” Mavik said. “Just not a satisfying one.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t local,” Hale said. “At least not in a way the pod could detect.”

  Roarke’s gaze moved between them. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning the pod reacted to something outside its own systems,” Hale said. “Something it wasn’t designed to classify as a fault.”

  “The Rift, it has to be the Rift,” Mavik said.

  “Or Cassandra,” Carrick added calmly.

  “How can you say that?” Hale said, leaping to her feet. “She was in stasis. She nearly died. How dare you suggest she had anything to do with what happened?”

  “I’m just isolating the variables,” Carrick said, not meeting her gaze. “She’s one.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Roarke stated. “She’s been to a Rift before, now we’re trapped by one. INA put her onboard for classified reasons. It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “She’s not a variable. She’s a person. And she’s been through something none of us understand.”

  “I know,” Roarke said. “But we still need to speak with her.”

  Mavik moved.

  “Not now,” the captain continued. “It’s late and we could all do with some sleep. Go to your cabins. We’ll continue this in the morning.”

  Hale lay awake in her bunk, eyes open in the dark, listening to the soft hum of the ship. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Cassie on the bridge, screaming at the sight of the Rift.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bunk and stood.

  The corridor outside was empty, lights set low, the ship reduced to its bare essentials. She walked slowly, barefoot, to the med-bay.

  The door slid open at her touch. Inside, the light was dimmed but not dark. Monitors pulsed softly, green and steady.

  Cassie lay on the medical couch, breathing slow and even.

  Hale stepped closer.

  Her sister looked smaller, fragile in a way she had never been before. The lines of strain were still there, faint shadows beneath her eyes.

  She wanted to speak. To say something, anything. But Cassie slept on. Hale kissed her softly and left.

  She planned on returning to her cabin, but she was drawn in the opposite direction, towards the bridge.

  The doors slid open.

  Rook stood alone next to stasis pod six, his broad shoulders rigid, outlined in the glow of a data tablet.

  He didn’t turn when she entered.

  “You should be asleep,” he said.

  “So should you,” Hale replied.

  “I didn’t know,” he said. “I was instructed to protect the data and the— and Cassandra,” he continued. “Not knowing what either was.”

  “And that didn’t bother you?”

  “I trusted INA. But it’s there. We’re all expendable. The crew. Your sister. The ship. In that order. All they really care about is the data in this pod.”

  He finally turned to face her. There was no anger there. Disbelief, perhaps.

  Hale placed a hand on his shoulder. “You should go to bed,” she said. “We’ll need clear heads in the morning.”

  ***

  Hale woke as the lights came up slowly. She did not remember falling asleep.

  She sat upright on the edge of her bunk as the ambient hum shifted pitch, the night cycle dissolving into day. Her mouth tasted stale, her eyes burned. She ignored it, dressed and made her way to the mess.

  The rest of the crew were already there apart from Mavik. Carrick sat hunched over the table, chewing without enthusiasm. Roarke had claimed the corner seat, a tablet propped in front of him, a cup of coffee in hand. Rook remained standing, back to the wall. She smiled at him as she took a seat.

  The food was exactly what Carrick had promised. Tasteless, dense protein blocks, barely warm, and water that tasted faintly of metal. Hale ate because her body expected it, not because she was hungry.

  She left it unfinished when Mavik appeared with Cassandra, on her feet before she realised she’d moved. She crossed the room and pulled her sister into a tight embrace.

  “You’re safe,” she said softly.

  Cassandra nodded against her shoulder, then pulled back, blinking at the room. “You’re eating?”

  Roarke gestured to the table. “Sit,” he said. “You’ll need something in you.”

  Cassandra did as she was told, perching at the edge of the bench. Mavik set a ration pack in front of her. She peeled it open, sniffed it, smiled faintly.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Hale said.

  Roarke put down his cup.

  “Cassandra, has the doctor briefed you on our situation.”

  “We’re stranded next to Tiamat,” Cassandra said. “And somehow you think I’m responsible. I’m not.”

  “We know you’re not,” Hale said, gently stroking her shoulder.

  “We don’t know either way,” Roarke said. “But we need to find out. The doctor says that you’re up to answering a few questions. So, if you don’t mind…”

  Cassandra took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Captain…”

  “It’s just a few questions, Hale.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Mavik added.

  “You’re onboard the starship, Wayfarer. We were contracted by INA to take you from Earth to Janus Station on the Rim. Somehow, we dropped out of the jump next to the Rift, and we’re holding position awaiting rescue from INA.”

  Cassandra blanched at the mention. Hale held her.

  “Cassandra,” Roarke said. “We’re not here to accuse you of anything. We need to know what you remember from your trip to the Rift and after. That’s all.”

  Cassandra looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. She took a deep breath.

  “I was teaching at the time,” she said. “Early Antiquity history. I specialised in eschatology. My work drew the attention of a benefactor who funded my work. He was interested in my study of dragon symbolism in apocalyptic mythology. I welcomed the money.

  It was only later that I discovered it was some kind of a cult, Children of the Dragons, that’s what they called themselves. They were convinced that the Rifts heralded the end of the universe, and that my work was somehow proof.

  “They said they could show me,” Cassandra went on. “I didn’t believe them, but I feared they’d cut my funding if I refused. Besides, it was only supposed to be a couple of days. And I’d never been on a jump before.” She gave a small, humourless smile. “I told myself it was fieldwork.”

  She swallowed, then went on.

  “They chartered a ship,” Cassandra said. “Civilian. Old, but well maintained. There were maybe twenty of them. Ordinary people, mostly. Academics, engineers, a few who just… believed. Even the crew believed…”

  Mavik shifted but said nothing.

  “They talked constantly about the dragons,” Cassandra said. “Not creatures, not really. Forces. Witnesses. Things that existed at the end of time. I argued with them. Tried to explain that symbolism evolves, that apocalyptic language is metaphorical. They ignored me.

  “Then everything went wrong.” Her fingers tightened in Hale’s sleeve. “We jumped but we were stranded, just like now.

  “Then they started praying, singing. Welcoming the end. I knew I’d made a terrible mistake.”

  She closed her eyes briefly.

  “There was light,” she said. “Not like an explosion. More like something vast turning its attention toward us. I don’t remember seeing anything clearly. Just the sense of being noticed.”

  Hale felt a shiver run through her.

  “And then?” Roarke asked.

  She frowned. “After that, it’s blank.”

  Mavik leaned forward slightly. “What’s the next thing you remember?”

  “Waking up,” Cassandra said. “In a med-bay. Different ship. Different people. They told me I’d been rescued. That the cult ship had been lost near the Rift.”

  She opened her eyes and looked directly at Roarke.

  “They said I was lucky.”

  Silence settled over the mess.

  “And after that?” Hale asked quietly.

  Cassandra hesitated. “They sedated me again. Told me it was for my own good. I remember arguing. Saying I needed to contact my family.”

  She shook her head. “Then nothing, until now.”

  She looked around the table, uncertainty creeping into her expression.

  “That’s it,” she said. “That’s everything I remember.”

  “That was five years ago,” Hale said.

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