SELENA
The spatial rifttears open like a wound in reality, stretching fifty kilometers across and growing by the second.
I stand on the bridge, watching destruction unfold on the main viewer while my crew scrambles to maintain station integrity. The distortion field has reached our outer sensor array, bending space so severely that navigation readings fluctuate between impossible and nonexistent.
“Hull stress at eighty percent,” Blaine reports from the engineering station. “If this continues, we’ll lose structural integrity within the hour.”
“Time until evacuation range?”
“At the current expansion rate, the distortion will engulf us before the first transport can clear a minimum safe distance.”
The words hang in the recycled air like a death sentence. Two thousand people aboard Halcyon, and nowhere to run. I’ve faced impossible odds before, but never with stakes this absolute—save everyone or watch them die.
“Captain,” Williams calls from communications. “Ambassador Jorem requests permission to beam the artifact to his ship. Says his people have containment protocols that might?—”
“Denied.” The response is automatic, instinctive. Something deep in my chest rebels at the thought of letting Jorem take the Starlight Matrix anywhere. “The artifact stays on Halcyon.”
“Ma’am, with respect, maybe we should consider?—”
“I said denied, Lieutenant.”
Williams falls silent, but I catch the worried look he exchanges with Blaine. They think the alien influence affects my judgment, making me protective of something that could kill us all. Maybe they’re right. Maybe the bond with Zylthar has compromised my ability to make rational command decisions.
Or maybe I’m the only one who understands what we’re really dealing with.
The lift doors open with a soft hiss, and Zylthar steps onto the bridge. Every head turns toward him—eyes that seem to glow with inner light, markings pulsing in rhythm with the spatial distortion, pale skin that carries a subtle luminescence like captured starlight.
He’s beautiful and alien and absolutely terrifying in his otherworldly perfection.
“Captain,” he says, and his voice carries urgency that makes my pulse quicken. “I need to speak with you privately. The situation has become...critical.”
“More critical than a fifty-kilometer hole in space?”
“Yes.”
The single word cuts through bridge noise like a blade. I gesture toward the ready room, and he follows, his movements carrying the fluid grace that marks him as something not quite human.
The ready room feels smaller with him in it. I seal the door and activate privacy shields, cutting off audio pickup from the bridge. Whatever Zylthar needs to tell me, it’s not for general consumption.
“Talk,” I say.
“The Matrix isn’t just creating spatial distortions.” He moves to the small viewport, staring out at the growing anomaly. “It’s trying to establish a connection between parallel dimensional planes.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that if we don’t stop it soon, it won’t just destroy this sector of space—it’ll tear holes between realities. Multiple universes bleeding into each other, causality breaking down, the fundamental structure of existence collapsing.”
The words hit like ice water. “How long do we have?”
“Hours. Maybe less.” He turns from the viewport, and I see fear in his expression that goes beyond personal survival. “Selena, there’s something else. The bond between us—it’s not just psychic anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our life forces are synchronizing. Heart rates, brain patterns, cellular regeneration—we’re becoming physiologically linked.” His voice drops to barely above a whisper. “If one of us dies, the other follows within minutes.”
The ready room seems to tilt around me. “Since when?”
“I first noticed it this morning. The effect has accelerated ever since.” He steps closer, close enough that I sense the heat radiating from his skin. “Selena, we’re running out of time. If we’re going to attempt the joining ritual, it has to be now.”
