Sickbay was a battlefield of quiet desperation. The low hum of life-support pods filled the air, punctuated by the sharp, irregular beeps of alarms as vitals spiked across the board. Doctor Amaya Maekawa stood at the central console, her white uniform sleeves pushed up, black hair escaping its pin in frantic strands. The overhead lights cast harsh shadows on the rows of recovery beds where the non-hybrids lay twenty still forms, their faces pale, muscles twitching in sporadic seizures.

  Amaya's fingers flew over the holo-display, cycling through neural scans. Commander Mateus Costa's readings flashed red elevated cortisol, erratic brainwave patterns. Tsala Maka's, followed suit, his proud features slack but furrowed in unconscious pain. Even the younger techs showed the same degradation. The pulse from Nova Tertius had knocked them out, but this was worse: a creeping feedback loop, as if the initial synaptic storm had left echoes that refused to fade.

  "Damn it," she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow. The hybrids were fine Mira Nexys assisted beside her, a cryonics specialist turned makeshift nurse but the others were slipping. Hours had passed since the mining return, and instead of gradual recovery, symptoms escalated. If the pattern held, irreversible neural damage was days away. Permanent coma. Death.

  Mira handed her a fresh stim-patch. "Captain's pod is stabilizing faster than the rest. Her concussion treatment, the dermal seal with neuro-regenerative compound might have disrupted the loop."

  Amaya's eyes narrowed on Selene Deimos's readings. Heart rate steady, brainwaves smoothing. "You're right. The compound flushed her system, and it broke the residual charge. It's standard regen protocol, but aggressive enough to reset synaptic overload."

  She tapped commands, cross-referencing the pulse data with flux drive logs Karl had sent from Engineering. The pattern emerged: residual quantum flux resonance from the drive, amplified by the initial neural hit. The incapacitated crew lacked the resilience we'd seen in the hybrids; their brains were echoing the disturbance like a feedback screech in an amplifier.

  "A feedback loop," Amaya said aloud, voice sharpening with realization. "The pulse seeded it; the drive's background hum sustains it. We need to vent the residual flux charge, purge the coils manually, and recalibrate the quantum foam density. It'll break the echo."

  Doc hit her comm badge with a sense of urgency. “Medical to conn cut the engines now. No questions, kill them now or the crew dies.”

  #

  Jax was at the helm when the call came to shut down the engines. He hit the emergency shutdown button and the ship lurched to a sudden stop. Nothing but endless stars could be seen on the viewscreen. Unlike our stops in systems this was like being stuck in an endless desert without any port to stop in.

  Jax turned the conn over to Nira and asked Davikar to come with him to the medbay. On the walk there they kept silent as to what the need for the emergency shutdown was all about.

  Jax strode into Sickbay, Anjali Davikar a step behind. The doors sealed with a soft hiss, cutting off the corridor's distant hum. The room was dimmer than usual emergency lighting casting long shadows over the recovery pods. Twenty non-hybrids lay motionless, monitors tracing erratic lines. Mira Nexys hovered near the central console, passing Amaya a data pad.

  "Doc," Jax said, voice low but urgent. "Engines are dark. We're adrift. Talk to me, what's killin' our crew?"

  Amaya turned, exhaustion lining her face, white uniform sleeves still rolled. "Not killing yet. Worsening. Seizures are increasing, neural degradation accelerating since the mining return." She pulled up the main holo-display: brainwave patterns in angry red, vitals spiking. Costa's burly form twitched faintly; Tsala's braid stark against the pillow.

  Anjali leaned in, scanner syncing. "Flux interference?"

  "Exactly." Amaya's tone sharpened with certainty. "Residual quantum flux resonance from the drive, seeded by the Nova Tertius pulse. It's a feedback loop the initial synaptic hit left echoes; the drive's idle hum sustains them. Non-hybrids don't have our... resilience. Their brains are trapped in the screech."

  Jax crossed his arms. "Captain?"

  "Stabilizing fastest her concussion regen compound disrupted the cycle early. Proof of concept." Amaya gestured to Selene's pod, readings are smoothing. "Shutdown broke the sustain vitals plateaued the moment engines went cold. No new spikes."

  Anjali nodded. "Smart call on the kill order."

  "But it's temporary," Amaya continued. "We need a full purge: vent residual charge from the coils, recalibrate foam density manually. Karl's logs confirm drift in calibration fixable, but delicate. Once clean, I synthesize a targeted dampener from the captain's compound aerosol for quarters, IV for critical. Fleet-wide administration: improvement in hours, staggered wake-ups over a day."

  Jax exhaled. "Risks if we delay?"

  "Days: coma. Weeks: irreversible." Amaya met his eyes. "We act, now purge, initiate the dampener, monitor. The crew wakes. The ship lives."

  Mira added quietly, "Growth pods are humming security embryos on schedule."

  Jax rubbed his temple. "One crisis at a time. Karl on the purge?"

  "Alone in Engineering," Amaya said. "He'll need help."

  Jax keyed his comm. "McAlister to Volk status?"

  Static, then Karl's gruff voice: "Workin' it, Chief. But this drift's stubborn..."

  Amaya glanced at the pods. "Get him support. We're buying time but not much."

  Jax nodded, his resolve hardening. "On it."

  #

  Before Jax could leave the medbay, the captain, a bit weak but sounding inquisitive. “On what Jax have you broken my ship already? Report.” Captain Deimos grabs her head with her free arm. “Damm, Doc what happened, my head is pounding?”

  Doc was faster and with a medical scanner approached the captain and began her scans. “Well captain, welcome back to the land of the living you have been out for about a week. Jax, um Lt. McAlister, will brief you on the specifics but I will tell you this. You are the first to wake up.

  The pulse that knocked you out took out two-thirds of the crew. Every non-hybrid became unconscious. You sustained a head injury when you fell and you were treated for a mild concussion. I believe that is why you awoke before anyone else and why you have a headache. The headache should pass but if it continues beyond today, come back and see me.

  If you feel you can walk I am sure Lt. McAlister can brief you on what else is going on. As you are ambulatory and not in need of immediate attention, I need to get back to my other patients.”

  The captain stood and slowly followed beside Jax with Davikar following.

  Jax spoke to the captain as they left the medbay. “Captain, when we reverted to normal space an energy pulse originating from Nova Tertius itself caused a feedback pulse that rendered the entire crew unconscious within seconds of reversion. The hybrids all with the helion nanocytes begin walking within moments. Doc believed the nanocytes acted as a partial shield or synaptic rejuvenator. But you will have to ask her for the specifics on that.

  While the majority of the crew were out we successfully mined both metals and volatiles in the Nova Tertius system. Not only topping off but obtaining a good stockpile that will sustain us over the next two jumps if we reach a system that has no place for mining.

  Also I determined that we had a serious deficiency in the way of security. I do not mean to demine Chief Tsala or his team but five people just cannot cover all the security needs that this ship needs. So in light of that I authorized Doctor Maekawa to unpack some of the growth pods and to initiate the growth of ten additional crew specifically for security duty.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The three of them had been moving steadily toward the Apex chamber. Once inside the captain turned and said, “Davikar go back to the bridge. I need to talk to Lt. McAlister in private.”

  Anjali Davikar did not question the order, just gave a brief look at Jax and said, “Yes Ma’am,” and exited the chamber to return to the bridge.

  As soon as the door was sealed again the captain hit the lock button and swung around on Jax, fire in her eye. “Lieutenant, you better have a very good reason for adjusting the ship manifest this way without my express permission.”

  Jax backed up a step. “Captain, it was not a unilateral decision. After the pulse and two thirds of the crew was down we needed to make some quick decisions. One we rounded up all the unconscious and either took them to their bunk or to medbay if they had injuries that needed tending. Luckily most everybody only had minor scrapes or bruises. You were the only one that needed more detailed attention.

  It was during that round up that a container was found in one of the incapacitated crew’s quarters. The container had the stolen embryo in it. Mira, Lt. Nexys checked it, found it stable and returned it to the vault. It was this discovery and the vault heist itself that prompted the command staff or at least the ones available to make the decision to obtain more security the easiest way possible given the circumstances.

  It was for the good of the ship given the circumstances not an attempt at usurpation. But if you or Chief Maka had been awake I would have pushed for this move anyway. Security was just spread too thin and we needed help.”

  The Captain heard every word McAlister had to say without interrupting. When he was finished she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Sometime during his explanation she had taken a seat in her chair at the end of the table. She rubbed her temples with the heels of her hands, “Lt. McAlister I find myself in a position to reluctantly agree to this move. And I have no doubt that both Commander Costa and Security Chief Maka will have something to say about this when they wake up. But I will deal with that when the time comes. But I warn you if you ever and I mean ever adjust the manifest again without my express permission you will be lucky to be able to scrub toilets on this ship. Do you understand me?”

  Jax snapped to attention, “Ma’am yes ma’am.”

  The captain finally looked relaxed, if only a little bit. “Good. Now tell me the status of my ship and tell me why it appears we are stopped in the middle of nowhere.” Jax spent the next hour debriefing the Captain explaining further what happened and what they were trying to do to correct it.

  #

  Main Engineering felt cavernous without the usual bustle of techs and the low thrum of the flux drive. The massive chamber half a kilometre of Graphynite hull curving overhead was silent save for the faint click of Karl Volk's tools and the occasional hiss of a diagnostic vent. The Einstein-Rosen Quantum Flux Drive hung suspended in its magnetic cradle like a sleeping giant, rings motionless, the captive quantum foam dark and still.

  Karl leaned against the central catwalk railing, silver coveralls smeared with coolant residue, his burly frame hunched over a holo-tablet. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the chill; the shutdown had dropped environmental hum to minimum, and the ship felt dead around him. He was the only one awake down here, the only engineer capable of wrestling the beast back to life. The others Costa included lay in Sickbay, trapped in Amaya's feedback loop. And now, with the drive killed on Doc's order, the Hope drifted like a ghost ship in the endless black, no systems to ping, no ports in sight.

  "Stubborn bastard," he muttered, glaring at the drive readings flickering on his tablet. Calibration drift: 0.08 percent off harmony. It didn't sound like much a thousandth of a deviation but in the quantum foam, that was a chasm. Enough to sustain the neural echo ripping through the crew's brains, turning their unconsciousness into a slow killer. Purging it manually risked foam collapse. One wrong vent sequence, and they'd lose jump capability for weeks stranded in the void, embryos thawing, life support straining.

  He tapped a command, initiating a simulation purge. The holo-projection bloomed above the tablet: virtual rings aligning, coils venting in blue-white bursts. At first, smooth flux discharging steadily. Then, the drift kicked in. Readings spiked, foam density plummeted. Collapse. The sim ended in red failure alerts, the cradle shuddering in holographic warning.

  Karl slammed a fist on the railing, the clang echoing through the empty space. "Not again." He'd run three sims already, each tweaking the sequence, reroute auxiliary power, stagger the coil vents, and isolate the quantum field. Each failed. The drift was insidious, weaving through the drive like a virus, adapting to his probes. His calloused hands, steady from years on war rigs, now shook with frustration. Isolation pressed in; no Costa to bark orders, no Lief to fine-tune coils. Just him, the giant, and the ticking clock of dying crewmates above.

  He paced the catwalk, boots clanging on the grating, eyes tracing the faint silver conduits laced through the hull. The Hope was his baby forged in blood during the Wars, laced with Graphynite stronger than any supernova. But right now, she was betraying him. A faint spark jumped from a diagnostic port as he probed a panel static discharge, harmless but startling. "Come on," he growled, recalibrating the tablet. "Give me somethin'."

  Another sim: Vent primary coils first, hold secondaries. Projection whirred success at 62 percent. Better, but not enough. Foam stability dipped below threshold; one real-world fluctuation, and boom the drive offline, ship crippled. Karl wiped his face, mind racing. "Think, Volk. What's the variable I'm missin'?"

  The doors hissed open, breaking the silence. Jax McAlister stepped in, red jacket loose, Scottish brogue cutting the tension like a knife. "Karl progress? Captain's back on her feet; no need to babysit the bridge anymore. Thought I'd check in before she hauls me for a full debrief."

  Karl looked up, relief flickering despite himself. Jax wasn't an engineer, but the pilot knew the drive's, quirks, the helm felt better than nothing. "Lieutenant. Glad you're here. This drift's a nightmare 0.08 off, sustainin' the echo upstairs. Sims fail every time; purge risks collapse."

  Jax leaned on the railing, peering at the dark rings. "Bloody hell. Walk me through it. Maybe fresh eyes spot somethin'."

  Karl nodded, pulling up the holo. Together, they dove in dramatic sparks flying as tests ran, tension mounting with each failed sim, the void outside pressing like a silent threat.

  After about an hour of trial and failure Jax says, “The problem isn’t the process it the timing. Adjustments need to be made within nanoseconds. Even the fastest human alive can’t see the problem and correct for it in that short of time. We need something else. Something that can think and react as fast as a computer.”

  Karl hits himself in the head with the heel of his hand. “Why didn’t I think of that? Excuse me sir, but I may just have the thing. I will be right back.” Karl ran out of the engine bay before Jax could even question him about where he was going.

  #

  Karl Volk stormed down the corridor from Main Engineering, boots pounding the deck plates in a frantic rhythm. The doors hissed shut behind him, leaving Jax alone with the silent drive and the crushing weight of a dying crew. Karl didn't slow. He couldn't. The realization burned: nanosecond precision. No human hand, no matter how steady, could catch the drift in time. They needed something faster. Something smarter.

  His breath came in sharp bursts as he jogged toward the mid-deck storage bays. The ship felt wrong without the drive's low thrum too quiet, corridors stretching like empty veins. Emergency lights cast long shadows, and the recycled air tasted stale. Upstairs, crewmates were slipping away: Costa's gruff commands silenced, Tsala's unyielding watch gone. And here he was, racing for a project he'd buried under "no time."

  The storage bay doors parted with a reluctant groan. Karl stepped inside, the vast hold a maze of crates under dim amber glows. Spare parts, VersaForge feedstock, hydroponics kits, relics of a functioning ship. He navigated by memory, weaving past EVA racks and tool lockers to the far workbench in the shadowed corner.

  There it stood: O.R.I.O.N. his masterpiece, months in the making. What had started as skeletal limbs back in those early, frantic shifts after Ceres had evolved into this: a fully humanoid android, tall and broad-shouldered like Karl himself, midnight-blue alloy skin smooth and matte. Articulated joints gleamed with precision engineering; the torso housed the AI core he'd refined over stolen nights; legs balanced for deck or zero-g; arms ended in dexterous hands capable of coil-tuning or heavy lifting. A face handsome in a way that felt too symmetrical, too perfect” with “lips curved” at the end. It was complete, or damn near power unit detached for safety, final cover panel waiting.

  Karl's chest heaved as he approached. "About time you earned your keep."

  He grabbed the compact fusion power cell from the shelf sleek, palm-sized, humming faintly. Slotting it into the chest cavity, he felt the connections lock with a satisfying click. Energy surged; internal lights flickered along seams as systems primed.

  Next, the last-minute cover: a flexible Graphynite panel, custom-forged for the access port. Karl affixed it with magnetic seals, fingers tracing the edges seamless, vacuum-proof. No gaps. No weaknesses.

  Step back. Breathe.

  He punched the activation sequence on the chest panel. A low whir built servos initializing, core booting. O.R.I.O.N.'s posture straightened; limbs flexed subtly as balance calibrated. Holo-eyes glowed amber, faceplate shifting to a neutral expression.

  "Online," the android intoned, its smooth, modulated voice… calm and precise, carrying just enough electronic timbre… unmistakably non-human. "Full systems nominal, Karl. Power stable. Been a while since you dusted me off. What's the fire this time?"

  Karl exhaled, tension easing. "Drive drift 0.08 percent. Feedback loop killin' the crew upstairs. Need your speed for the purge, nanoseconds, no margin."

  O.R.I.O.N.'s head tilted, eyes narrowing in simulated thought. "Understood. Neural echo sustained by flux resonance. Risky fix, but doable. Lead on, I've got calculations running."

  Karl nodded, gesturing. "Engineering. Move."

  The android stepped forward gait fluid, purposeful, legs propelling it with silent efficiency. Karl matched pace, the pair heading for the lift. O.R.I.O.N. towered slightly, frame filling the corridor, a silent partner born from months of solitary toil.

  The lift rose. Karl glanced at it. "Are you ready for this?"

  "Built for it," O.R.I.O.N. replied. "The question is, are you ready to admit you need me?"

  Karl snorted. "Shut up and save the ship." Both Karl and Orion walked back to the engineering bay.