I’m not even back at my post as High Justiciar for a full day—barely had time to sit down, let alone enjoy the chair—and I get a call from the emperor himself. Not a message, not a briefing packet, not a polite “when you have a moment.” No. A direct call. That’s never good news. He wants me to look into an issue for our Federation allies, something “urgent” and “delicate,” which is emperor-speak for everyone else already said no.
Apparently a remote research station has gone dark. No comms, no updates, no emergency beacons. Just… silence. And because the Federation is panicking about whatever they were doing out there, they need someone who can check it out without causing a diplomatic meltdown. So naturally, the Phantasm gets assigned to the case due to its “sensitive” nature. In other words, they need someone who can keep a secret and won’t run screaming to the press if things get weird. Lucky me.
I take Synthea—because of course I do—and a couple of engineers, just in case the station has power or life support issues. I’m expecting flickering lights, half-dead systems, maybe a hull breach or two. But when we arrive, our scanners insist everything is operational. Power levels steady. Life support nominal. Environmental controls humming along like it’s just another Tuesday. In fact, the only thing out of the ordinary is that there’s nobody on board. Not one soul where there should be hundreds. A whole station full of people just… gone.
I bring Synthea and the engineers with me to start the initial sweep. I’ve also got a security team on standby, plus a science team waiting for the all-clear. Better safe than sorry, especially when the universe has a habit of throwing curveballs the size of moons.
As we explore the eerily pristine corridors, I have Synthea access the station’s database to figure out what kind of research they were doing here. Meanwhile, I start digging through the station logs, hoping for some clue—anything—that explains why an entire crew decided to vanish without leaving so much as a sticky note.
“Master?” she says. (I hate when Synthea calls me that, but I’ve given up arguing about it. She insists it’s a term of respect. I insist it makes me sound like a villain. We’re at an impasse.)
“What is it?”
“I have examined the totality of the research projects for the station.”
The totality? That’s a lot for a station this size. “Really? In a station this size? How could you possibly be finished already?”
It’s a fair question. A station like this could be running hundreds—hell, thousands—of small studies and experiments. But Synthea’s answer only raises more questions.
“It seems the entire station was dedicated to only three classes of study,” she says. “Magnetic fields, frequency modulators, and directed energy transmission.”
Immediately my brain jumps to the only possibility those three things have in common, and it’s not a comforting one. “What?! You mean to say they’re researching dimensional shifting?”
Synthea looks at me with something that might be concern—hard to tell with her sometimes—and nods.
Fantastic. Just fantastic.
The primary concern with multi-dimensional tech is that you should never, ever experiment with it unless you have a death wish or a backup planet. The consequences can be catastrophic. On one world I know of personally, the idiots siphoned off their entire atmosphere and turned the place into a ghost world. Another planet got itself infested with demons—actual demons—and now requires round-the-clock surveillance to keep the damned things from escaping off-world. The native inhabitants? Completely wiped out. Not exactly a glowing endorsement for dabbling in forbidden science.
And now here I am, standing on a station that’s missing its entire crew. Seems like they put this place in the middle of nowhere because they anticipated a screw-up. Always comforting when the worst-case scenario is the most likely one.
The Phantasm is equipped with multi-dimensional drives, sure, but that’s GSE tech. We only use it when taking jobs from them because they provide solid, safe coordinates. You can’t just go stumbling around the multiverse like a drunk tourist. That’s how you end up in a dimension where gravity is optional and the locals communicate through interpretive dance.
“Okay, everyone,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Keep your eyes and scanners peeled for SN threats and set your scanners accordingly. We’re looking for anything that cloaks or turns invisible, as well as any extradimensional portals.”
I pause, taking in the silent, spotless corridor stretching ahead of us.
“We’re gonna need more boots on the ground. This is shaping up to be a bad day.” |
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