Hello! Just here to say that school starts tomorrow, so updates will happen slowly. But they'll still happen! Don't worry.
Oh and also if you've made it here then this is largely irrelevant, but here's the second (and most likely final) curse word warning.
With that out of the way...
Here goes nothing!
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Six hydraulic pistons detached from the Lexian's hull, emitting an ear-piercing screech as they retracted into the steel walls of unit 112. The puddlejumper's sublight engines flared to life, inching the mass of the vessel backward out of the atmospheric shielding which sealed unit 112 from the vacuum of space.
Filion was seated in his small office, directly adjacent to the Lexian's bridge. She was still very much a work in progress, undergoing continuous modifications- the bus-sized inertial dampeners were visible through large gaps in the steel paneling.
The ship-wide communications buzzed. "All personnel, we are clear of unit 112. Initiating jump sequence."
Jarik, resting in one of the Lexian's forty guest quarters, drew his pulse pistol and placed it down on the desk adjacent the bed. The Lexian was fully capable of handling herself- he hoped. It was difficult to miss the dozens of torpedo tubes arrayed across the north and south poles of the vessel.
If that pistol was required, it would likely be far too late to do any good.
After hours spent pouring over the case PDA, Jarik had come to the conclusion that he was spectacularly under-qualified for this particular investigation. The Aurora Flare had seemingly disregarded all standard procedures. She had crossed the Prythian border with the Caroki Star Union twelve lightyears out from Armin V, the unofficial yet multiversally recognized center of the demilitarized zone between the two superpowers. A distress call was logged, but it was jumbled and confusing, spitting out fragments of information alongside screams and a veritable ton of white noise.
A wormhole burst to life fifteen kilometers off of the Lexian's bow. An exit wormhole appeared a few seconds later, punching a hole through spacetime to bridge the gap between two distant locations.
Filion forced himself out from behind his desk and stooped through the low doorway of his office into the bridge.
"Alright. Let's get this over with." he said, sighing.
A few moments later, Jarik entered with a mug of coffee.
"Hey, copper." Filion said, his eyes fixed on the navigational console's data readout. "We're at the coords you gave us. Although we are-"
"Twelve lightyears out from Armin V?" Jarik replied, glancing at the same readout.
"Well... yeah. We're not even in a system. This is dead space."
"This also happens to be the last known location of a UPRN puddlejumper. The Aurora Flare. Don't suppose you've heard of it."
"Nope."
"Anything on the sensors?" Jarik asked, shuffling around the claustrophobic bridge and taking care to avoid the myriad of wires and piping which snaked across the floor.
"Anything big would've tripped the prox alarm. If you're looking for a puddlejumper, she isn't here."
"What about things that aren't hundreds of kilos in diameter?" Jarik responded.
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YOU ARE READING
Dimension
Science FictionLanguage warning for the actual novel. Paragon. A dying galaxy, exhausted of all but the most basic natural resources and home to three failing superpowers. A great war tore the galaxy apart two and a half centuries ago, and still, the scars are viv...