It took probably two full minutes for the pilots to stabilize Borag. It was an impressive feat. Outside the ship, us lowly marines played the role of fleas on a flaming log. Every time Borag’s engines flared, or a steering jet released a hot blast, we risked being cooked alive. We were out there, dancing around and evading big black nozzles, any one of which might incinerate us at random.

  After stabilizing the big ship, and matching the wild spin of the asteroid, Borag was able to maneuver. The pilots and their software had the hang of it now. Borag glided carefully, avoiding both the alien portal machine and the rocky walls that threatened to crash into the hull at any moment. The massive ship was attempting to maneuver and escape the alien pyramid by traveling down one of the tunnels that led out of the asteroid. The vessel twisted and turned, her engines roaring as she fought against her own inertia.

  From my position outside Borag, I couldn’t help but feel a fresh terror. Were we about to be left behind? Welks was beside me, and his face was about as freaked out as a man could get. We exchanged glances, but we didn’t bother to talk. Not knowing what else to do, we began chasing after Borag.

  An airlock was our destination—any airlock. Our hopes were pinned on getting aboard Borag again. She was our only hope for safety in this chaotic dance of steel and alien technology unfolding around us.

  As Borag continued its desperate escape, I couldn’t help but be struck by how good her sensors and maneuvering AI had to be. The colossal ship seemed almost alive as she twisted and pivoted.

  Bounding along in the rocky tunnel behind the big ship, we were grateful for every grueling hour of null-gravity training we’d undergone over the last year or so. Normal crewmen probably couldn’t have survived.

  At first, Borag was outrunning us, but we poured on the speed now that we weren’t in danger of being cooked alive. With every passing second, we caught up to the ship’s belly. Welks and I pushed ourselves to the limit, our muscles straining against the confines of our spacesuits as we fought to reach safety. When we finally neared an airlock, the ship’s hull loomed over us like a giant metal wave, threatening to swallow us whole.

  At last, we leaped upward and latched onto one of the rungs that encircled every external hatchway on the ship. We were glad of the foresight of her designers, as the metal loops weren’t just on the sides of the entrance, but all the way around.

  I reached back and pulled Welks up after me. Then the airlock opened at last, and we threw ourselves inside. We gasped for breath as the door closed behind us.

  We’d made it, but only just. From the safety of the airlock, we watched more Red Company men as they fought their way to the airlocks. When they came close, we opened the hatchway and dragged them inside. We used all our training and teamwork to overcome the disorienting environment. One by one, we dragged men aboard. Every survivor’s face was full of relief and exhaustion when the airlocks hissed shut behind them.

  In the end, we did a headcount. We’d only lost three men. My heart went out to them, and I was sick to think I didn’t even know how they’d died.

  Had they perished under Borag’s flaming jets? Had they caught a lucky strike from one of the pirate’s missiles?

  Or, had they been lost in the void somewhere? Perhaps a fractional error had been made by the enigmatic alien device? I hoped that wasn’t the case. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of eternity existing in that wormhole, never reaching a final destination.

  “Good news, Red Company,” Lt. Quinn’s voice came over our tactical comms. “We’ve got one more man with us now than when we left Neptune.”

  We glanced at one another, confused, but then a familiar voice crackled on the channel. It was Private Welks, who was sitting right next to me.

  “About time you guys showed up,” he said. “I hope you didn’t all shit your suits—like I did—when you came out here.”

  Everyone laughed. It was a great release of tension. Even Private Ledbetter was grinning. “He might be a coward,” he told me quietly, “but he earned some respect from me today. He must have been shitting bricks out here for hours waiting for us to show up.”

  Once all the survivors were safely aboard, Captain Hansen wasted no time in giving the order to proceed. Borag’s engines roared to life, and we began our cautious journey away from the spinning planetoid and its treacherous tunnels.

  As we emerged from the planetoid, a new and unfamiliar sun greeted us. It bathed Borag in its soft, reddish glow. The crew was chattering with speculation. Everyone was trying to grasp what the hell had just happened. After some time, our navigators managed to pinpoint our location in the galaxy—and the revelation was nothing short of astounding.

  Against all the known laws of physics, we’d been transported four lightyears away from home to the Proxima Centauri star system. The alien portal had flung us across trillions of miles in an instant. We traveled a distance that would have taken years to traverse using conventional propulsion systems.

  The implications of this discovery were terrifying. Captain Hansen wasted no time in ordering our scientists to study the data we’d collected during our brief encounter with the alien technology. Dr. Sharaf, in particular, was eager to unravel the secrets of the portal. Her previous grievances had been momentarily forgotten in the face of this incredible opportunity.

  Meanwhile, the rest of us couldn’t help but stare and coo over our new surroundings. Proxima Centauri shone brightly, shining unfamiliar red light upon the faces of the crewmen who crowded to every viewport to see it.

  We’d been granted an unexpected and incredible gift—but we were also stunned to know we were now farther from home than any ship like ours had ever been before.

  The Proxima Centauri system had a red dwarf star at its heart. That star wasn’t much, by Earthly standards. It looked like a dim, reddish-orange lightbulb in the distance. It beamed with a steady light like the glow of coals from a campfire. I stared at it, knowing it was the closest star in existence to our Solar System. Despite its relative proximity to home, it still seemed alien to me.

  The most interesting object in the system was Proxima Centauri b, an exoplanet nestled comfortably within the star’s habitable zone. It was a bit larger than Earth, with continents and oceans visible on its surface, even from this distance. The planet had a slightly more reddish hue than our home world, likely due to the unique light from its parent star.

  As our sensors came online and began to probe the system, we quickly discovered that Proxima Centauri b was not as desolate as we had initially assumed. Radio signals filled the airwaves, revealing the presence of pirate ships and hinting at a civilization. The atmospheric conditions of the planet, too, suggested the possibility of life. There was a delicate balance of gases that weren’t too different from those found on our own Earth. Could that be due to the presence of plants and animals? We dared to hope.

  Captain Hansen set course for Proxima b—where else were we going to go? As we continued our approach, we noticed that the system was not without its dangers. Asteroids and other celestial debris littered the area, requiring careful navigation and vigilance. The mysterious exoplanet drew our attention more than anything else, however.

  On the second day after our arrival in the new star system, Hansen called a meeting. The top officers assembled in the conference room, and I again found myself stationed just outside the door. Captain Hansen had made it clear she wanted loyal troops present to maintain order during the meeting. It seemed as if everyone was on edge.

  Inside the conference room, the officers assembled. This included Captain Hansen, the navigators, and other command officers. They gathered around a large, holographic display of the Proxima Centauri system. Soon, they were knee-deep in a discussion about our next move. While I couldn’t hear every word, I could pick up on snippets of conversation—and it wasn’t going well.

  “We can’t fly into the teeth of an enemy base. Who knows what kind of new weaponry they might have found?” one voice argued.

  “Nonsense,” Blackwood said. “If this human debris has figured out how to destroy us with ease, they would have done it by now. There are huge profits to be made, here. Mark my words, I have a sense for these things. This is not the time to be timid.”

  “We need to gather more intel on this system,” another suggested. “We can’t move until we know what we’re up against.”

  “What about the pirate ships we left behind at Naiad?” a third questioned. “They obviously know the score. What’s stopping them from following us and putting a missile up our tailpipe?”

  Captain Hansen’s voice rose above the others. “Let’s hear some constructive ideas. You all sound like a flock of terrified hens.”

  The room quieted for a moment. Hansen was right, everyone was freaking out. Hell, from my post outside the door, I was freaking out.

  We were in uncharted territory, far from home, and the outcome of our journey was uncertain. We were either going to be famous, or we’d end up as a scrap of wreckage orbiting this strange star forever.

  Soon, I could hear the heated discussion growing louder again. The officers were going back and forth, with some insisting on activating the portal and returning home. Others wanted to explore a little first.

  “Captain, we can’t just stay here!” Navigator Nichols exclaimed. She seemed like the biggest chicken of the bunch—not that I could totally blame her. “Our families and allies are back in the Solar System. We have a duty to protect them from the pirate threat!”

  “We barely made it out of the cavern on Naiad the last time,” Dr. Sharaf said dismissively. “If we go back now, those pirate ships will be waiting for us, ready to fire.”

  “We can and we must take risks,” Blackwood said. “It’s in our charter and outlined in our mission parameters to do so. We need to gather more information about this system, at the very least.”

  The debate continued, with each officer voicing their opinions and concerns. It wasn’t long before Captain Hansen decided to put an end to the escalating argument.

  “Enough!” she said. “I understand your concerns, but we can’t let fear dictate our actions. Blackwood is right. The three pirate ships haven’t followed us here. They’re lurking back in the Solar System, and I guarantee they’ll blast Borag the moment we return.”

  The room fell silent as the officers absorbed her words. I kind of wanted to yell at them, too. The situation was dire. They all needed to think straight to get us out of this alive.

  “There’s another point,” Dr. Sharaf said. “We don’t even know if returning is possible. We understand nothing about the alien technology that brought us here. This journey might be a one-way trip. For all we know—we’re never going home.”

  Blackwood spoke again in vigorous agreement. “And even if we can return, we shouldn’t do so empty-handed. We’re in uncharted territory, here. There could be valuable resources or information that we can bring back to aid our fight against these rebels. With alien technology and an entire star system’s worth of resources, we’re no longer dealing with simple pirates.”

  Captain Hansen listened carefully to the arguments and weighed her options. “All right,” she said, “let’s gather intel and search for anything valuable in this system.”

  The officers acknowledged her decision, but they didn’t look happy.

  “I know this isn’t what we expected,” Captain Hansen continued, “and I understand your concerns. But we’re a resourceful and skilled crew. We’ll work together to gather as much information as we can, and then we’ll find a way to return home safely.”

  Eventually, the bickering died down. The decision had been made. We were staying for now. The crew members began to plan out the exploration of the Proxima Centauri star system.

  Chapter 11: An Unbelievable Discovery

  Everyone aboard Borag couldn’t stop staring at the new star system outside. We’d spent years traveling in our own Solar System—but today, for the first time, we had different sights to see.

  The unfamiliar sky of the Proxima Centauri system wasn’t entirely wrong—but it was slightly warped. There were countless variations that I kept noticing and others kept exclaiming about. The constellations seemed off, and of course, the familiar planets were all missing—including Earth. That alone left us feeling homesick.

  The nearby stars were arranged in patterns I’d never seen before. The unfamiliar configurations made me feel like a stranger to this place. Yet, despite the differences, there was still an undeniable beauty out there. It was hard to look away from this new view of the cosmos.

  Searching the sky, I finally worked out which shining dot must be Sol, our own star. It was just a faint pinprick of light. That was a shocker. It was such a far cry from the blazing orb that had been the center of my universe for so long. Knowing our sun was just one more speck—that was a humbling experience. It reminded me of just how small and insignificant we were in the grand scheme of things.

  The wildest new thing in the sky had to be the fact there were three suns, rather than one. Alpha Centauri was a triple star system, with Proxima being the smallest of the three. From Borag, we could see the other two, which were much bigger and brighter than any star in the heavens over Earth. You could see both of them as separate points of light, even though they were very close together. Together, they occupied about the same area as a full moon on Earth, and they weren’t much brighter than that.

  It was kind of like having two extra moons in your sky. Along with one reddish sun that was rather dim. Very odd to witness.

  At last, I tore my gaze away from the stars, realizing that there was work to be done. We had a lot of new space to explore—and probably new enemies to fight. This was our reality now, and there was no turning back.

  Freya found me as I returned to my duties in the mid-deck region. Her eyes were alight with excitement—and maybe a touch of fear. I could tell she had something important to share, so I smiled and spread my hands.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Devin…” she said, slightly out of breath from her hurried pace. “We’ve found something... something strange.”

  “Found something? Like what?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  “There’s an artificial satellite,” she explained, pointing at the window where I’d just been caught stargazing, “out there.”

  “A satellite? You mean, like something built by the pirates?”

  “Maybe…”

  “Is it orbiting that planet?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. That’s what’s weird about it. The satellite is just out in the middle of nowhere. Like a buoy in the middle of the ocean. It’s definitely artificial, and it’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

  I squinted, trying to visualize what she was talking about. Who could have built something like this? Local pirates? That seemed like a stretch.

  Then, it hit me. Could we be talking about something built by real, honest-to-God aliens? I felt a thrill of anticipation course through me at the prospect of such a discovery. If this was an artificial construct… it could mean that we weren’t alone out here. That there were more things around than pirates. Maybe even other intelligent life. That thought was enough to make my skin crawl.

  “Have we been able to determine what it’s doing out there?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Freya admitted. “But the captain wants to send out a recon team to investigate. We need to figure out if the satellite poses a threat, or if it could possibly be of any use to us.”

  A recon party?

  Suddenly, I knew what that meant—and why Freya had come to see me, full of worry. When something dangerous needed to be investigated outside Borag’s thick hull, Red Company was always the first group sent to do the job. Always.

  Danger was always present when exploring the unknown. That was part of the fun. There had to be some incredible discoveries awaiting us in this new star system. It was Red Company’s job to face those dangers head-on and figure out what was what. We were always on hand to do some fighting and dying… if that was required.

  “Hey, sounds fun. Tell Hansen to count us in,” I said, my voice filled with pride. “We’ll figure out what this satellite is all about.”

  Freya nodded, but her eyes were full of worries. I invited her for a quick lunch, as we were both on break—but she couldn’t escape her duties.

  As we were about to part ways and go back to work, klaxons suddenly blared. They weren’t the local kind, either. The kind that went off when someone burned something on a stove. Nope, they were going off throughout the ship. Shrill alarms demanded our immediate attention.

  Freya’s eyes widened. “I have to get back to the bridge,” she said. Before I could respond, she leaned in and gave me a firm, unexpected kiss. “Stay safe, Starn,” she whispered, and then she was gone, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she hurried back to her post.

  I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, but the urgency of the klaxons soon pushed the memory of her kiss to the back of my mind. I rushed to Red Company headquarters, where the rest of my team was already gearing up.

  In the security ops center, we watched the big main viewscreen. There was a show to be seen today. A massive alien satellite filled the display.

  Right off, I doubted humans had built this birdhouse. The configuration of the structure was unlike anything we’d ever encountered. Even stranger, it wasn’t orbiting any larger body. Humans always built space stations near something big—not off by themselves in the middle of nowhere.

  The mysterious station hung in the void, far from any planet or other celestial body. That was just plain weird. It seemed to be parked out here, sitting in space on its own.

  Without warning, the satellite lit us up with radar pulses on an unusual wavelength. It began scanning us, and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of information it was gathering. Was it merely a passive observer, or were there a hundred fusion warheads cooking inside the thing, just waiting to nail Borag when we dared to glide into range?