The Blackbird vibrated with a barely contained energy, its hull groaning as the graviton catapult’s containment fields locked into place around it. On the bridge, the air was thick with tension, the quiet only broken by the hum of power building in the ship’s systems, the clipped confirmations from the crew, and the occasional crackle of static from the catapult’s control relays.

Graviton catapults had been used before, but their inherent nature – that they were a one-way ticket – meant they were more of a scientific curiosity than anything else. This one had been tested, a shuttle thrown the few light-years they still had contact with, but this would be something else, a distance of scores of light-years. The simulations said they’d survive, that they’d be flung across the stars and arrive at Alpha Centauri intact. Now, the cold equations of theory were about to meet the raw chaos of reality.

Cassidy exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on the armrests of the command chair. ‘Blackbird to Control,’ he said, voice steady despite it all. ‘Final check-in. We’re ready to launch.’

Rosewood had strapped himself into one of the aft consoles beside Aryn. Aryn wanted to see the catapult in action, watch the data as it came in. Rosewood didn’t want to be the last to know he was going to die. He looked over. ‘Are we ready?’ he hissed.

Aryn knew better than to indulge this. ‘Shh.’

‘Blackbird, this is Control.’ The voice was Commander Cortez, the architect of the catapult, overseeing launch herself from aboard the Sirius. ‘Confirming final telemetry link. All systems read green on our end. Status check on your navigational array?’

Cassidy glanced back at Falaris, who nodded. ‘Nav array is locked onto designated exit vector,’ he confirmed. ‘Final inertial dampening adjustments underway.’

‘Copy that, Blackbird. The graviton fields are at peak stability. You are at T-minus ninety seconds to launch.’

‘Still time to change our minds,’ Rosewood said louder in a sing-song voice.

Cassidy ignored him. ‘Control, we are standing by for final clearance.’

‘Acknowledged. Be advised, we will retain comms for approximately three minutes before you pass through the Blackout field. Then you’re on your own.’ A pause. ‘Blackbird, you are go for launch.’

‘Understood. We’ll see you on the other side. Blackbird out.’ With a tap of his armrest, Cassidy killed comms. He looked around the bridge. ‘Anyone wants to get off, now’s the time.’

‘I don’t want to get off,’ Rosewood began, ‘but I could do with a bio-break – and does anyone want a snack -’

‘Helm, engage launch sequence,’ Cassidy cut in.

There was a beat. Then the ship hummed with rising energy, consoles flashing as the Blackbird synchronised with the graviton catapult’s systems.

Nobody aboard was happier than young Ensign Yang, the new helm officer. Where everyone else was wracked with concerns about the journey, concerns about the arrival, concerns about the fate of the galaxy, he had one job, and one job only: perform a once-in-a-lifetime manoeuvre so his ship could save the day.

‘Yes, sir! We are go!’ he chirped.

A deep vibration rumbled through the hull as the graviton catapult surged to life. All around them, its projectors were firing up to capture the ship, and there was a lurch as they were caught in the field’s grasp.

‘Wow,’ Aryn breathed. He’d probably, Rosewood thought, say something about how space was bending, or he’d never seen anything like this, even though Rosewood knew that to his relatively layperson’s eyes, it’d not look all that different on sensors to warp’s effects.

But it was different – different enough for the Blackout, at least.

At the Academy, Rosewood had led a flight team to victory, as was expected of all young cadets on a path to command. He could have taken the pilot track to the bridge, but wanted to get his hands dirtier – which had turned out to be truer than he’d ever anticipated in his youth. He knew what it felt like to push inertial dampeners to the brink, to test the very limits of his craft, to put himself in the hands of worn engines and his own skills.

For this, he closed his eyes. Tension on the bridge coiled like a wire about to snap, tangible even though he couldn’t see – then, with a final pulse of power, he felt them launch.

It wasn’t much. A surge of the dampeners. A nudge forwards in his chair. Then the gentle hum of nothing.

‘Woah,’ breathed Yang moments later. ‘This thing is fast.’

‘Midgard to A-C in a matter of hours,’ said Cassidy, and when Rosewood opened his eyes, the commander had risen to his feet. ‘All for the low, low price of massive risk, expensive equipment, and no option to turn back.’

‘Yeah, Midgard to A-C in a matter of hours so long as we don’t crash into something we can’t see coming and can’t dodge away from,’ grumbled Rosewood, gingerly unbuckling his safety webbing.

‘We can see,’ piped up Falaris. ‘Uh, some. Oh, now we can!’ She turned to the bridge, eyes bright. ‘This is amazing; we’re passing through the Blackout, entering pockets of space, then leaving again. Sensors are giving me a view for about a second of our surroundings before the Blackout blocks them again.’

‘Cool,’ said Rosewood, standing. ‘How many devastated war-zones are you seeing in a second?’

‘I…’ Falaris hesitated. ‘Would need to take a closer look at the data.’

Ranicus made a frustrated noise. ‘Send me that data, Lieutenant. Anything comparative on Vaadwaur deployment and activity might be invaluable.’

‘It’s incomplete and sketchy -’

‘Which is better than the near-nothing we have now.’

‘Our exit vector,’ said Cassidy, ‘is at the periphery of Proxima. Squadron’s exit vector is on the far side, forty-eight hours later, just in case we screw the pooch and the Vaadwaur sit waiting to see if more of us show up. We arrive, we hit low power, all stealth measures. Take stock of things. And figure our first move. We’re gonna have to improvise, adapt, think quickly.’

‘Do they have to be good ideas?’ asked Rosewood. ‘I can give you about ten bad ideas inside a minute -’

‘Which means I need you all fresh and on the case the second we get there.’ Cassidy didn’t bother to let him finish. ‘Get your hilarity out before then. Someplace else.’

They broke off then, the bridge crew settling into their usual operations state of monitoring systems and coordinating, though there wasn’t much they could do if something happened. Rosewood padded over to Cassidy, sobering, and dropped his voice. ‘We gonna need to deploy once we get there?’

‘Am I psychic?’ came Cassidy’s curt, quiet response. ‘For all I know, we get blown up the second we arrive. This is a stupid plan.’

‘Now you say it’s stupid -’

‘Yeah, to you, once it’s too late to back out.’ Cassidy’s lips thinned into an unhappy line. ‘Double-check equipment. Make sure Aryn isn’t strung out. Get Nallera and Q’ira ready to go at a moment’s notice without rattling the girl.’ There was a hint of protectiveness in his mention of Q’ira that Rosewood wasn’t sure he’d noticed before. ‘We arrive, we gotta be ready to pick up a rifle inside a second.’

Rosewood nodded, sobering from his irreverent tone of moments before. ‘We can do this.’

Cassidy frowned. ‘Don’t try that happy-clappy power of belief crap with me. We don’t know what we can do. Today, though? We’re gonna find out.’