There are no escape pods in the escape pod room. It is, in fact, an escape pod-less room. There are only a bunch of supplies and a huge hole torn in the hull where another ship docked with this one. The assailants had smashed through to secure a bridge between the two ships. Whether on accident or as part of their machinations, this destroyed all the escape pods.

I cough and wipe at the bile from my mouth and try to think. Okay, no escape pods. That’s bad, very bad. What else, what else?

I could board the assailants’ ship? But they’re probably just as likely to kill me or take me to— No, that won’t work. I feel myself start to shake slightly. I start tapping my hand against my other arm. Come on. There must be something else.

The ship is too small to carry a secondary ship with it, so no use looking for that. If I went to the back of the ship, I might be able to jump into Nexus and hedge my bets that another ship will come by and find me before I die. My teeth start chattering. I sit down and stare at the wall across from me. My head empties of thought.

“…CREW IN… FIVE MINUTES. PLEASE EVACUATE THE VESSEL. THIS…”

My breathing is normal. I’m not shaking. My feet are still against the floor. I get up and run for the helm.

Seconds later, I’m in a room filled with screens flashing red with warning messages and windows showing the vast blackness of Nexus. Most of the systems are down. I run to the controls and take a moment to breathe, pushing my focus outwards. There. Not too far now.

Wrenis (7/V).

I begin working. It takes me a lot of energy rerouting and hopping around increasing system limitations to get the steering back online, but I manage. I try setting a course but the nav system’s energy has been automatically rerouted to life support and there isn’t anything left to divert in its place.

I sigh. Guess I’ll be doing this the old-fashioned way. I send a quick prayer to the Minute, then reconsider and take a moment to send a more thoughtful prayer to the Hour.

“Please. Whatever I’ve done, please forgive me this once.” If there were any time to ask for miracles, it would be now.

Then I close my eyes and try to slow my racing heart and reach out with my awareness. Knowledge begins to slide in. I can feel the door, understand its size and shape. I can feel the gap between us, its distance, and the path needed to bridge it.

I force myself to let out a slow breath as I bring my awareness back to this moment. For an overwhelming instant, the details of the ship around me flood my brain. I open my eyes and try to focus on the consoles.

There was a time, not too long ago, when I had perfect control. Doing this was as easy as breathing and it never hurt like this. I force myself to focus and think about now, this moment, where I’m trapped on a crashing ship that’s falling apart beneath my hands.

I start inputting a sequence of commands to change the ship’s trajectory. It’s slow going and having to maneuver around all the non-functioning systems slows it that much more. I remind myself to breathe.

The habit of holding my breath when I focus is one I have trouble shaking and tend not to notice until my chest begins to ache. Usually, it doesn’t bother me enough to warrant much thought. In this moment, it is another load of snow heaped on top the avalanche.

“…THREE MINUTES…”

The ship has turned enough that I can see the door hanging in Nexus like a guiding star.

Flapping folds of a rip between two worlds.

“…TWO MINUTES…”

I push the engines as hard as I can without risking blowing them. Half the engines start failing. Then, they start to blink out one by one. I reroute power, trying to maintain the ship’s course.

“…ONE MINUTE. PLEASE…”

My lips soundlessly shape the words of a prayer I haven’t dared to speak in more than a year.

The ship passes through the door. A new gravity takes hold and pulls. We fall.