The algorithm worked better than expected. I’d taken Lynn’s warp coordinates and translated them into slipstream paths, weaving through the network like a seasoned guide. The first three salvage sites went off without a hitch: jump in, scan the wreckage, tag the goods, dispatch the drone. Clean. Efficient. Almost boring.

  We weren’t getting cocky but I must admit it felt like, for once, we had a handle on things.

  Until the fourth location.

  According to the intel Lynn had traded for, it was an old decommissioned science base. Quiet. Derelict. Orbiting a lonely young star in a planetless system, wrapped in a thick asteroid ring still rich in helium-3. Plenty of fuel, no strategic value. Just a forgotten place. It was perfect for hiding a research base.

  I aligned the ship and slipped us into the stream like I’d done dozens of times now.

  Only this time, there was no exit.

  The slipstream we were riding simply vanished, as if the path ahead had been cut mid-flow. No transition. No divergence. One second we were gliding, the next we were into the void.

  We had a hard exit.

  My shielding held, but just barely. The pressure on the hull surged. The ripple echoed through my systems, rattling the crew. The slipstream shielding we had installed had also failed to contain all the effects.

  The crew felt the full effects of the slipstream for the first time in months.

  Mira was first to cry out, hands over her head. Stewie stumbled. Lynn cursed through clenched teeth. Even Kel, who never showed discomfort if he could help it, dropped to one knee. T’lish who had never experienced it before screamed out in a pitch too high for humans to hear.

  It wasn’t just a rough ride. It felt wrong. But we eventually exited back into normal space.

  Laia’s voice brought us back to reality. “That wasn’t a standard collapse. We didn’t exit through a tear. That was a breach,” Laia said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That wasn’t a slipstream lane. It was a dimensional rupture.”

  That would explain the effect on the crew, shifting between dimensions was pleasant on best days, but forcing our way through would have been worst.

  And now we were lost. Not in the poetic, stars-are-beautiful kind of way but truly, cosmically lost. Suspended in a patch of empty space where even the background radiation felt... off on my hull. No planets, no stations. Just cold nothing and a faint stellar signature far off on long-range sensors.

  But this wasn’t our first time stranded between systems. The crew was rattled, but recovering. Mira sat breathing slowly in her chair. Kel muttered something under his breath about bad omens. Even Stewie, who usually bounced back quickest, was uncharacteristically quiet.

  I feared, briefly, that our slipstream drive had failed again. That we’d burned out the same fragile miracle that kept us from drifting into cosmic irrelevance. But T’lish once she recovered ran a full diagnostic and gave the all-clear.

  “The drive’s intact,” she said, her tail flicking nervously. “All readings are nominal. It’s... not the drive that’s the problem.”

  Laia confirmed it a moment later. “I’ve identified our position. We’re near the targeted system, just... displaced. It’ll take months on sublight to reach orbit.”

  That sparked a debate.

  We gathered in the crew lounge with my avatar seated and Laia sitting on Mira while the rest of the crew rested in varying states of recovery. The options weren’t great: turn back and give up on the salvage, or creep forward for months.

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  Lynn offered the third option, voice steady despite the tension in the room. “We let Laia scout ahead. Use Chunkyboy. She can clone her consciousness and take the recovery drone, while we slipstream to a neighbouring sector and wait. Hopefully, warp still works so she can get there quickly.”

  I turned to Laia’s avatar, her glow muted and her wings stopped. Showing that she was processing everything. “Laia, you okay with that?”

  She nodded once, expression unreadable. “Already prepping the clone. But be aware you could be risking Chunkyboy. I don’t mind if I lose the clone, but I know that Stewie and Kel are attached to the lander”

  All that training in learning about the crew was helping. She had seen a possible problem and was addressing it. I had a bit of a proud dad moment.

  Both Kel and Stewie stiffened. For a second, neither of them spoke.

  Stewie finally looked down, jaw tight. “You're right, we have put everything into that thing…”

  Kel folded his arms but nodded. “Rebuilt it from near scrap. Shielding, wiring, controls.”

  Laia remained quiet, letting them process.

  Stewie glanced at me, then at Laia. “But it’s the best plan.”

  Kel sighed. “Yeah. It is.”

  “We can just abandon the mission, it’s not that critical” I reminded them, I wanted them to make a fully informed decision.

  Kel gave a cheeky grin. “No, I am interested now. I would bet the station and lack of slipstream are related”

  Lynn also joined the conversation. “An anti-slipstream weapon could give us an advantage against NeuroGenesis when the time to fight them comes”

  I wasn’t sure a fight with NeuroGenesis was a forgone conclusion, but understanding an anti-slipstream weapon could be handy. I still wasn’t convinced the two were related.

  Chunkyboy wasn’t just a lander anymore. It was ours. It had carried us. Protected us. Felt like a piece of the crew.

  And now, we were sending it into a system we couldn’t even reach without tearing at the seams of reality. It was a risky operation. No one said it aloud, but we were all thinking about it. We just hoped we’d see it again.

  It didn’t take long for Laia to get ready and a few moments later, I watched from my external sensors as Chunkyboy detached and peeled off into the black, silent and small against the void. A sliver of us hurtling toward a mystery system.

  Now it was our turn.

  This jump would burn through most of our fuel reserves, and failure wasn’t an option. Not again. Not with the crew still reeling from the last breach.

  Laia projected a starmap across the virtual bridge, her voice calm as ever. “This is the nearest viable system. My clone will rendezvous with us there, that is if all goes to plan, it should only take a week.”

  The destination was clear. The problem was getting to it.

  I’d tried everything from running warp coordinates, rerouting slipstream calculations through every available lens. Except my algorithm couldn’t detect a path. I could find an exit node in the system, but no entry point. Like trying to open a door from the wrong side of the wall. Normally we could enter slipstream from anywhere and find a path.

  T’lish, watching silently from the corner of the bridge, finally spoke. “If there’s no entry, then we make one. We can reopen the rift. Force our way in.”

  Laia ran the numbers. “It’s possible. But without a natural lane, we’ll be unshielded for most of the jump. The energy requirements will be massive. We’ll have to shut down almost everything.”

  “Define ‘almost,’” Kel asked warily.

  “Life support stays on,” Laia replied. “Everything else goes dark.”

  The groan that rolled through the crew was universal. Not just at everything going dark but the prospects of having to ensure an unshielded jump.

  Still, we agreed. There wasn’t a better option. We strapped in, dimmed the lights, and powered down everything that wasn’t critical. It was eerie almost like being blind, deaf, and nearly mute.

  Then I initiated the jump.

  There was no elegance this time. No graceful slide through dimensional threads. This was force it was raw and unfiltered. I could feel the slipstream pushing back, like a current that rejected my presence. It buckled against my hull. Reality twisted, flexed, and screamed.

  The crew felt it. Hard.

  Even with the shielding rerouted and doubled near their cabin, I sensed their vitals spike, pressure rising. Then… silence. Unconsciousness.

  Laia, drained from the precision calculations and the over-taxing of her systems, slipped into hibernation mode. Still managing essential systems, but no longer with me. No voice. No presence. Just cold routines ticking in the background.

  I pushed harder, through that churning storm of dimensional resistance, until finally the slipstream caught hold. The path accepted me. And we made it.

  We arrived. But I was alone.

  The bridge was quiet. Laia’s avatar was gone. The crew cabin was silent. I checked their vitals they were still healthy just knocked out by the rough jump.

  I knew it wouldn’t be long before they woke up or before power would recover. But I still felt it.

  Lonely.