I couldn't help but grin as I strode across the tarmac at Cape Canaveral, the morning sun glinting off the XR-7 rocket that would soon carry me beyond Earth's atmosphere. My Space Force environment suit stuck my skin in the Florida humidity, the silver insignia catching the light with each step I took. Behind me, I could sense the eyes of technicians and military brass watching.

  "Robinson!" The gruff voice of General Harkins stopped me in my tracks.

  I turned to face him. "Sir?"

  The General peered at me with a hard expression, but he extended his hand. "Godspeed, Colonel. The XR-7 represents the future of American space exploration. Bring her back in one piece."

  "That's the plan, sir." I shook his hand firmly.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket as I continued toward the launch pad. Delilah. I hesitated before answering, knowing what this conversation would entail.

  "Hey," I said, my voice softening.

  "Just wanted to wish you luck," she replied. "Try not to die up there, okay?"

  "I'll do my best." I paused, feeling the weight of unspoken words between us. "Listen, Delilah, when I get back—"

  "We'll talk then," she cut me off. "Just... come back."

  The call ended, leaving me staring at my phone. Our relationship had been circling the drain for months. My dedication to the Space Force left little room for anything else. Delilah deserved better. I'd tell her that when I returned. I needed to make a clean break so she could move on.

  I tucked the phone away and approached the XR-7 ship.

  The experimental craft represented the cutting edge of aerospace technology—a single-pilot vehicle designed to test new propulsion systems that could revolutionize space travel. If successful, this mission would put the United States years ahead of its competitors. I'd be the man who made it happen.

  The tech crew helped me into my flight suit, running through final checks with practiced efficiency.

  "Fuel cells at optimal capacity," the lead engineer reported. "Quantum navigation system online. The new gravitational dampeners are showing green across the board."

  I raised an eyebrow at that. "Quantum navigation? That wasn't in the briefing."

  The engineer exchanged glances with his colleague. "Last-minute addition, sir. The system uses quantum entanglement to maintain positioning even in areas with heavy electromagnetic interference. Purely precautionary."

  I nodded, though something about the exchange left me uneasy. These missions always had classified aspects, but I was usually in the loop. I made a mental note to ask Harkins about it when I returned.

  Once suited up, I climbed into the cockpit, settling into the form-fitting seat as technicians secured my harness. The interior was cramped but efficient, with every inch of space utilized for essential systems.

  "Comms check," said a voice through my helmet speakers.

  "Reading you five by five," I replied while running through my pre-flight checklist.

  “T-minus ten minutes to launch. Weather conditions optimal. All systems go."

  I took a deep breath, adrenaline boiling within me. No matter how many times I flew, that pre-launch tension never diminished. It kept me sharp and alive.

  "XR-7, you are cleared for launch sequence initiation."

  My gloved fingers danced across the control panel, activating primary systems. The cockpit hummed to life around me, and the displays illuminated with a soft blue glow.

  "Initiating launch sequence," I said. "Primary thrusters online. Navigation systems engaged."

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  The countdown began, each second bringing me closer to the unknown. This was why I joined the Space Force—to push boundaries and venture where others couldn't or wouldn't.

  "Three, two, one, ignition."

  The rocket roared to life beneath me, the vibration rattling through my body as the engines generated the thrust needed to break free of Earth's gravitational pull. G-forces pressed me back into my seat as the XR-7 climbed rapidly, the sky outside my windshield darkening with each passing second.

  "Passing Mach 3," I said into the comm, keeping my voice steady despite the intense pressure. "All systems nominal."

  "Roger that, XR-7. You're on course for orbital insertion."

  The rocket continued its ascent, the Earth’s curve becoming visible as the atmosphere thinned. I monitored the readouts, noting with satisfaction that the propulsion system performed exactly as designed.

  "Preparing for stage separation," I said.

  The first-stage boosters detached, falling away as the secondary propulsion system engaged. The ride smoothed out, its violent shaking replaced by a steady vibration.

  "Stage separation successful. Entering low Earth orbit in T-minus two minutes."

  Then, I noticed something unusual on my instruments. The quantum navigation system showed minor fluctuations at first but grew more pronounced with each passing second.

  "Control, I'm seeing some anomalies in the nav system," I said. "Quantum positioning is fluctuating."

  There was a pause before the response came. "Roger, XR-7. Our telemetry confirms. Recommend switching to backup navigation."

  I flipped the necessary switches, but the backup system showed the same erratic readings. "No change on backup. Something's interfering with both systems."

  "Stand by, XR-7. We're analyzing the data."

  The anomalies continued to worsen, and now, other systems began to show irregularities. The gravitational dampeners fluctuated, causing momentary surges in G-forces that made my stomach lurch.

  "Control, I've got multiple system anomalies. Request abort parameters."

  Static answered me, the comm system deteriorating rapidly.

  "Control, do you copy? I'm losing comms."

  More static, then a broken transmission: "...unknown radiation...abort mission...return trajectory..."

  The message cut off as the communications system failed. I was now alone, orbiting Earth in an experimental spacecraft with increasingly unstable systems.

  "Damn it," I muttered, manually inputting the return trajectory. The craft responded sluggishly, the controls fighting me as the navigation system continued to degrade.

  Outside my viewport, something impossible appeared—a distortion in space itself, like a heat mirage but vastly larger. The stars beyond it seemed to bend and warp as if light itself twisted under the control of some unseen force.

  The XR-7's sensors went haywire, alarms blaring throughout the cockpit as the craft was pulled toward the anomaly. I fought the controls, using every trick in my considerable arsenal to break free, but the pull was relentless.

  "This isn't in the manual," I said, straining against the increasing G-forces as the craft accelerated toward the distortion.

  The quantum navigation display flashed a warning:

  DIMENSIONAL INTEGRITY COMPROMISED.

  "What the hell does that mean?" I gasped.

  The answer came moments later as the XR-7 made contact with something unreal. The universe seemed to fracture around me, the viewport filling with impossible colors that human eyes were never meant to process. The craft shuddered violently, systems failing in cascading sequence as it was wrenched through the fabric of space-time.

  My training took over, my hands moving automatically to stabilize the craft even as my mind struggled to comprehend what occurred. The G-forces increased beyond what the human body should have been able to withstand, but the experimental gravitational dampeners, though failing, provided just enough protection to keep me conscious.

  For what seemed like an eternity, the XR-7 tumbled through the void between realities, all sense of direction lost as conventional physics ceased to apply. I could only hold on, fighting to maintain control of a craft never designed for this impossible journey.

  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the turbulence ceased. The viewport cleared, revealing a star field that I didn't recognize. None of the constellations matched any in Earth's sky.

  "Where the hell am I?" I whispered, checking my instruments.

  Most systems were offline or hard nonsensical readings. Ironically, the quantum navigation system was one of the few still functioning, though it displayed coordinates that meant nothing to me. The craft was damaged but still somewhat operational—at least until the fuel cells depleted.

  Through the viewport, I spotted a planet in the distance—the familiar sight of Earth. Those blue and green masses with swirling white clouds meant I could bring her in for landing.

  With careful precision, I maneuvered the crippled XR-7 toward the planet, using the remaining fuel to establish a descent trajectory. As the craft entered the atmosphere, the heat shield struggled, apparently having issues like the rest of the craft’s systems. Warning lights flashed across the console as systems began to fail under the strain.

  The cockpit filled with smoke as electrical systems shorted out. My vision blurred, my lungs burning as I fought to remain conscious long enough to crash-land the craft. The ground rushed up to meet me, a landscape of forests and fields, unlike anything on Earth.

  The XR-7 slammed into the alien world’s surface, skidding across an open field before coming to rest at the edge of a forest. The impact should have killed me instantly, but somehow—whether through the craft's safety systems or some property of this strange world—I survived.

  As consciousness slipped away, I caught a glimpse of movement outside the shattered viewport—perhaps a person who spotted my crash came to help. Unfortunately, smoke covered the view inside the cabin before I could glean more.