I smiled and shrugged. “It is what it is, kid.”

  He laughed. “Not bad. Now stop blubbering and get to it.”

  “How do I determine where the portal will open?” I asked.

  “It’ll always open in front of you,” he replied, “but the position of the sigils and the strength of the action helps determine the location. So lean back a little and don’t go too hard. Aim for a few feet off the deck, that way if you miss there’s less chance you’ll split the hull.”

  “Got it. Here goes, take two.”

  I turned away from him, toward the open part of the hangar. Leaning back slightly, I put the coordinates and the visualization into my mind, holding both while I activated the sigils in turn. Using expand and starting small, I watched as a small crack appeared in the air about a foot away, instantly closing it when I canceled the action.

  “A little more juice,” Keep suggested.

  I nodded and started over. When I expanded this time, the tear was much larger, and at the far edge of the hanger, slicing through the bulkhead. “Shit,” I cursed, dropping it again. When the rift vanished, it left a gash through the metal and into the adjacent corridor.

  It didn’t unnerve me when Keep glanced at Dryka, as if to say I told you so. I wasn’t a gifted musician. It had taken me months to learn the guitar when Matt had only needed weeks. I was used to failure and recitation. The look only made me more determined.

  “Third time’s the charm,” I said before concentrating on the coordinates and distant hangar again. This time when I expanded spacetime, the rift was perfectly placed halfway to the bulkhead and more reasonably sized. I added shift to it, unsure of what the action would do. The catalyst on the Mustang fired all of the actions at once, perfectly tuned and aligned so it was barely noticeable. Now, I nearly became disoriented as the world around me seemed to lose its color, and a second universe suddenly floated on top of the one I was in like a macro version of the collator. I thought I saw something move in the corner of my eye, but I resisted the urge to look for fear of losing focus. Instead, I activated transfer, which visually seemed to smooth out the tear and create a tunnel effect within it, as if I had tamed a vertical tornado.

  “That’s it, kid,” Keep said. “Now you just need to go through. Don’t forget to push yourself once you’re inside, or you’ll get stuck there.”

  I didn’t respond to him. Instead, I ran for the rift, nervous but excited. I could feel the chaos energy draining out of my body more quickly than I’d guessed it would, and I didn’t want to be totally empty by the time I returned to Head Case. With the coordinates and the image still locked in my mind, I reached the portal, entering without slowing.

  The void hit me hard, threatening to break my concentration. My fear of becoming lost saved me, survival instinct keeping me locked on the destination despite the sense of sadness and dread that battered at me from the emptiness. I added push, shoving myself forward to the tear on the other side. The distance between the two ships was so short the void time was almost nil. Less than a second after entering on one end, I came out of the other, stumbling and falling to my hands and knees on the hangar deck, the familiar smell the first thing to greet me.

  I had done it!

  I canceled the actions, sudden fatigue slamming into me, my head spinning. Eyes closed, I couldn’t stop the next bout of nausea from overcoming me, and I projectile puked on the deck.

  “Ewwwwww,” Emerald said, her feet appearing in my hunched-over field of view. “Gross. I am not cleaning that up.” I raised my head to look up at her. She smiled and waved. “Hello, Boo.”

  “Matt,” I said, tapping my badge. “Open a channel to Radiance. Tell Keep I made it.”

  “Ben?” Matt replied. “Where are you?”

  I looked around the hangar, breathing deeply. The smell didn’t sicken me this time. “Home.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Neither ship wasted time setting course for our respective destinations, Radiance to the Bracken Shipbuilders factory near Jaito and us to the Mushari Technical headquarters on the planet Beam. The latter was in the late Duke Nobukku’s territory.

  We said our final goodbyes within the hour, an event made more bittersweet with Keep’s latest departure. At least we had the collators to communicate across the vastness of space beyond where even hypernet signals could reach. At least if they got into trouble they couldn’t get out of, there was a chance I could do something to help. The transit had left my chaos energy stores depleted, but I attributed at least half of the attrition to the multiple attempts to properly open a hole in spacetime. The fact that I could do it at all continued to amaze me.

  The rendezvous point had been carefully selected by Justus and Dryka, putting us as close as possible to equi-distant between the two targets: one hundred twelve hours for Head Case to reach Beam, one twenty-seven for Radiance to arrive near the Bracken factory. For nearly five days, I didn’t have to worry too much about Keep and the others headed in the opposite direction. For nearly five days, I could rest, relax, and recover on the starship I now considered my home.

  Nearly four months had passed since the day I visited Doc Haines at the hospital and learned I was going to die. Almost a month had passed since I had embedded an inferior catalyst into my skin to gain the power of a Gilded. It was power I could only match because I could convert and store chaos energy directly instead of the catalyst needing to convert it from my blood. It was a quirk of fate only possible because of the permanent mutations in my DNA caused by the spreading cancer, which itself was now kept under control by the restore sigil. Without it, the cancer would return with a vengeance, and I would quickly die.

  But only if my body’s rejection of the catalyst didn’t kill me first.

  When I thought about all of the puzzle pieces that needed to fall perfectly into place to bring me here—to put me on this ship at this time, when this part of the universe was under such threat and when that threat could easily spill back to Earth—it left me wondering if all of the cruel twists and turns of fate I'd faced had purposely put me in this position. As much as I didn’t want to believe in fate, it was hard to avoid thinking about the correlation of my sigils to the Relyeh through chaos theory and natural order derived from randomness. Fractals, symbols, patterns, sigils. The more I carried it forward in my mind, the more I started to question if anything that happened was truly random at all, or if everything in every universe was somehow preordained.

  I had to reject that idea if I wanted to stay sane. There was no way to know the answer. No way to prove it. And it seemed too easy to jump to that conclusion. Maybe things had worked out okay for me, at least so far. But I was only one of the many diagnosed with cancer every day. I was one of the lucky ones who had survived. I didn’t deserve to live any more than anyone else deserved to die. Things didn’t have to happen for a reason for them to happen.

  Or did they?

  I was still lost in thought when someone knocked on the door to my quarters, pulling me out of my head and back to reality. I glanced at Shaq, curled up asleep at the foot of my bed. My small room on Head Case was a major downgrade from the nearly two thousand square foot suite I'd had on the Sanguine yacht, but it was a much more comfortable fit, like sneakers versus suede shoes. I shook my head, remembering how the luxury craft had maneuvered wildly through space when we entered FTL. How long would it take before Coil gave up trying to navigate to Windfall without being able to see? Would he find the pantry before he starved to death?

  “Ben, are you in there?” Emerald shouted, knocking on the door again. “Hey, Ben!”

  Shaq picked his head up to look toward the door as I slid off the bed and opened it. Emerald stood in front of me in a pair of silk leopard print pajamas, a big bag of popcorn in hand and a huge smile on her face. “What are you doing in there? You promised we would watch That Darn Cat.”

  “Opening a portal through spacetime had me thinking about the fabric of reality,” I replied. “I was contemplating the nature of our existence and the role of chaos theory in every aspect of the universe’s machinations.”

  “Booorrrriinnnggg,” Emerald replied. “Take it from someone who spent ten years of their life as part of the most renowned think tank in the Spiral, there is such a thing as overthinking something. The next thing you know, you’re in hell doing hard labor for fourteen hours a day and fending off asshole rapists almost every night. Enjoy life, don’t deconstruct it. That’s my advice.” She grabbed my wrist. “Come on. You too, Shackie-poo.”

  “Shackie-poo?” Shaq buzzed amusedly as he hopped from the bed to my shoulder. Emerald reached up and scratched under his chin.

  “You’re my favorite non-human on the ship.”

  “Don’t say that too loudly,” I said. “You’ll hurt Ixy’s feelings.”

  “Why? She’s my favorite non-human on the ship.”

  “Right,” I replied, grinning. I had already learned not to try to make sense of half the things Emerald said. She made me smile, a real stress reliever, more often than not. Something I appreciated more than I let on. “We’ll meet you in the lounge. I’m going to get some nachos from Asshole. I’m still rebuilding my stores after the transit.”

  “Speaking of your transit, maybe we can go through a portal to Oceania sometime,” she said, following along behind him instead of heading for the lounge.

  “What’s Oceania?”

  “It’s a resort planet in the Crescent Quadrant. Pink sand, crystal clear water, the best food outside of Atlas. I went there with my sister once. We had such a great time. And with your sigils you can whisk us there and back before anyone even has a chance to miss us.”

  “What about Sedaya?”

  “He’s not invited.”

  “I mean, we have work to do. We’re trying to save the Hegemony, remember?”

  She shrugged. “If you say so. Tell me more about this movie of yours. What’s a cat?”

  “It’s hard to describe.” I walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Asshole.”

  “Bennie!” Asshole exclaimed. “What’s your pleasure?”

  “A big plate of nachos, plenty of meat and cheese, queso, jalapenos, no olives. And a beer.”

  “You got it, boss. Comin’ right up.”

  “I was just thinking,” Emerald said as she leaned her elbows on the counter beside me. “We should have a pajama party.”

  “Why?” I asked, glancing at her.

  “It would be fun. And I’m already wearing pajamas.”

  “So am I.”

  “Sweatpants and a hoodie aren’t pajamas.”

  “Sure they are.”

  “Nope. Sorry. I bet you’d look really cute in flannel.”

  “I’m not wearing flannel. Not today. Not ever.”

  “Order up!” Asshole shouted, the door to the assembler opening. I breathed in the smell of the nachos, mouth immediately watering.

  “What is that scrumtious smell?” Meg said, appearing at the door to the kitchen by the time I’d gathered up the plate and beer. She wore a pair of fleece PJs with Deal with it written in block letters in a pattern across both the top and bottoms. “Oh, that looks so good.”

  “Get your own,” I said with a smile.

  “We’re having a pajama party,” Emerald said, wiggling with delight.

  “We are?” Meg replied. “I wasn’t invited.”

  “You are now.”

  “We’re not having a—”

  “Let me go get Leo,” Meg said excitedly. “I’ll tell him to put on some pajamas.”

  “What’s he wearing now?” Emerald asked.

  “He’s up in engineering. Definitely not pajamas.”

  “What about the Captain here?”

  Meg looked me over.

  “They’re pajamas,” I insisted.

  “It’s iffy,” she replied, “but since you’re the captain, I can’t really argue against it.” She hurried off to get her brother.

  “See,” I said.

  “She had to say that,” Emerald replied.

  “And you don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t work for you. I’m here because you accept me, even if I am a little nuts.” She smiled in reaction to however my expression changed. “I know I’m not okay all the time, Boo. I can’t always put a finger on it, but I can feel it. It’s not fun having such a chaotic mind, but you’ve made it easier to exist in spite of it.”

  Our eyes met. “I know a thing or two about chaos. Anyway, I’m glad I can help. I know you’ve been through a lot. We’ll clear your name before this is over. I promise.”

  “I don’t need that. Almost everything I need is right here.”

  “Hey,” Druck said, standing in the corridor outside the kitchen. “I just passed Meg. Are we having a party?”

  “A pajama party,” Emerald said, frowning as she gave him the once over. “Not a fatigues party.”

  Druck shrugged. “I can take my shirt and pants off. Boxers are pajamas, right?”

  Emerald's nose scrunched up. “Eww. Nobody wants to see you in undies. The real question is if sweats and a hoodie are pajamas.” She folded her arms across her chest and dismissed my comfy attire with a snooty look.

  “Not a chance,” Druck replied. “Sorry, Boss.”

  “See,” Emerald said, with a firm nod. "You can't come to a pajama party in that." Her hand flipped out, palm up, a finger pointing at my outfit.

  “Whatever. I’m still in charge. If I say they’re PJs, then they’re PJs.”

  “I’ll go ask Asshole to make me something,” Druck said. “I usually sleep naked.”

  “Yeah, that's too much information right there,” I said, grinning again.

  “I’m going for the tie-breaker,” Emerald said, reaching out and tapping on my comm badge. “Matt, I have a question.”

  “Yeah, Emerald?” Matt replied. He was still on the flight deck, going through all of Head Case’s controls. “What’s up?”

  “Can sweatpants and a hoodie be considered pajamas?”

  “Ben thinks they are,” he replied. “And they can be comfortable to sleep in. But I say no, they aren’t actually pajamas.”

  “There you go,” Emerald said, laughing. “You lose.”

  “Thanks, Matt,” I groused.

  “What are best friends for?” he replied.

  “Okay, you all win. I’ll go change. We’re apparently having an impromptu pajama party," I told Matt. "Join us in the lounge. All work and no play makes Matt a dull boy.”

  “I’m on my way,” he replied.

  “Are you happy now?” I asked, looking at Emerald as I disconnected the comms.

  “Very,” she answered, her grin stretching into a broad smile.

  “Me, too.” I decided I would worry about tomorrow…tomorrow. At the moment I had everything I needed.

  Except some official PJs.

  CHAPTER 10

  The rest of our five days in hyperspace flew past in a hurry. Although it had only been about a month since I had transformed myself on Omega Station, it had seemed like forever since we had all been back together, and it was the first time that both new and original crews were on Head Case together at the same time.

  We had a blast together.

  Yes, we were on the precipice of the most dangerous days in the Spiral since the beginning of the first Sigiltech War, racing against the clock to stop Blorb and Sedaya from creating mass chaos within the galaxy. But while we were in hyperspace, there was little we could do to affect anything beyond the rounded hull of the ship. Bonding was the best thing we could do, training the second best, and Emerald had gotten us off on the right foot with the pajama party.

  That night translated into a late morning for most of us, which quickly transformed into a focused workout prompted by Quasar, who refused to let us get too comfortable during the trip to Bushara, the planet where Mushari Technical’s HQ was located. She ran us through a number of Royal Guard warm-ups, into sparring, and then to weapons training. It didn’t surprise anyone that Emerald excelled at all three while I often struggled to keep up with the others. I had self-banned sigiltech from the workouts, refusing to use the technology as a crutch. And it wasn’t that I was a terrible fighter, at least not anymore. The others were just better than me, either with more experience like Zar and Druck, more training like Emerald, more athleticism like Matt, or specially suited for certain types of combat like Ixy and Shaq.

  Of course, Grizz, Meg and Leo were excluded from the exercises. Grizz was too old for the away team, though his engineering expertise paid dividends almost immediately as he schooled the younger twins on some of Head Case’s older, more finicky systems. Meg was too valuable when it came to effecting quick repairs and handling the software side of the ship’s full stack, and Leo would serve as the backup pilot whenever Matt or I weren’t around.

  Exhausting days faded into nights of watching the Earth movies Keep had loaded into the ship’s data stores. The sci-fi action hero marathon was a huge hit as Matt and I introduced the others to classics like Aliens, Predator, the Karl Urban version of Judge Dredd, Schwarzenegger’s Total Recall and many others. We played games too. Emerald was impressively good at charades, able to emote pretty much anything with a complete lack of inhibition, in one case to embarrassing effect. Embarrassing for everyone but Emerald herself, anyway. After we had Asshole make a table, Druck excelled at beer pong and foosball, Ixy impressed us with her ability to create intricate artwork with her spidersilk, and Shaq got in on the act by performing jagger music, which reminded me of throat singing and was pretty badass, especially once Matt and I added instruments to it and Meg, Leo, and Emerald started dancing.

  “Exiting hyperspace,” Matt announced from the pilot’s seat, glancing over his shoulder to where I stood behind him.

  I nodded my approval as he rested his hand on the stick, the other on the throttle, fingers stretching toward the controls that would activate the shields, in case we needed them as soon as we emerged. Leo occupied the co-pilot seat, prepared to assist while I split my attention between the forward transparency and the sensor grid.