Cold, lost, alone…

  Darkness and confusion accompanied her awakening, making her feel like a grain of sand in the endless void. There were no sounds to be heard, no sights to be seen. Then, suddenly, came pain, crashing upon her like a tidal wave.

  No! Her conscious-self screamed.

  She wasn’t supposed to be awake. Not yet. Something had gone wrong.

  Still affected by the chemicals in her system, she extended her senses in an attempt to find out where she was.

  The first thing she felt was the hard embrace of the cage. Then, just beyond it…

  This can’t be!

  She could feel their presence. They were everywhere, filling the void beyond her prison, their presence—more terrifying than the frozen infinity itself.

  Her fingers trembled. Military-grade sedatives restricted her movements. It took all her strength just to move her hand. The effort came with agonizing pain, but she had to go on with it. She had to warn others of their presence.

  Her thumb came into contact with a cold, hard surface. That had to be the cage wall. Just a little more and she’d be able to—

  A wave of calm numbed her mind. The security system had detected her movement and commenced the redundancy safety procedure. A new dose of sedatives was injected, ending all her attempts. In a few moments, she’d return to the world of dreams, her warning unheard.

  “What are your fears?” a faint voice asked.

  Distant, barely audible, the words shone like fireflies in the night.

  They… She tried to speak, but her mouth could no longer move. The sedatives had done their job, reducing the reach of her senses. Yet, it no longer mattered. She could let go of her consciousness, knowing that she was no longer alone, knowing that she had been heard…

  The seeding-ship kept on steadily making its way through space. Four days remained until their destination. So far, everything had gone as expected. There hadn’t been any malfunctions, unexpected phenomena, or course deviations. The pilots were even coping with the isolation factor as well as could be expected.

  The pilot rubbed his eyes, focusing his attention on the warning screen. The glitch that had warranted his attention had already self-corrected, leaving nothing but a note in the warnings log. The man ran a partial diagnostic twice, then yawned. By all accounts, everything was in order. Still, protocol demanded that he send a few technicians to do a manual confirmation. None of them were going to like it, but that was part of the job.

  Normally, he wouldn’t even bother. The ship was showing its age. Although technically still suited for service, it had almost reached antique status. With the latest colonization race, all sides had extended their fleets to breaking point, eager to seed as many planets as they could. Making matters worse, a special guest from Earth itself was overseeing the mission.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Lexis,” the pilot called on the comm. “It’s your turn to keep the screens company.”

  “Again?” came the response. “A man can’t even get six hours of rest.”

  “That’s work for you,” the pilot laughed.

  Despite the laughter, both of them knew they had no choice. Seven years remained until the end of their contract. Up to that point, they were considered part of the ship and forbidden from setting foot on any station or planet without a holy representative. The only thing they were guaranteed was spiritual protection, which, considering their cargo, was very much needed.

  The bridge door slid to the side, letting a large man in a chalk-white spacesuit squeeze inside. At one point, the man was all muscle, but the time spent in space had slowly transformed him into a ball of blubber.

  “What did I miss?” The newcomer floated to one of the free control seats and strapped himself down.

  “The usual glitches,” the other said. “The saints have been with us this entire flight.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t take a break before it’s over.”

  “Shhh.” The pilot turned off the internal communication system. “He might be listening.”

  The “he” in this instance referred to Holy Cleric Ignatius. Born and raised on Earth’s monasteries, he was notorious for his strictness, rivaling even that of the Orthodoxy’s patriarchs. Some might have considered his presence a blessing, but for the crew of the seeding ship, these had been the worst three months in their careers.

  To this day, it remained a mystery why someone with as many connections had become a cleric on a simple colonization mission. Rumors circulated that he was actually there to evaluate the crew. Lexis didn’t believe that. More likely, the good cleric had stepped on someone’s toes and had been cast into unknown space for penance.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “He’s probably saying his daily prayers. It would be hours before he graces us with his pre—”

  Red windows flickered on all system monitors. A significant anomaly had been detected in the cargo compartment, requiring human intervention.

  “Seems the saints took a break, after all,” Lexis remained calm, as he tapped in commands to localize the issue.

  It had to be a sensor malfunction. The cargo section was the most secure area of the ship undergoing yearly inspections.

  “Is the cargo okay?” the other pilot asked, frantically going through the system logs.

  “Cargo’s fine. Some glitch in the primary launching mechanism.”

  “What the heck? We haven’t even activated the damned thing!”

  “Keep calm. I’ll send someone to check it out.” The man was about to turn the comms back on, when he noticed something weird. “Hold on. There seems to be a breach in cargo unit nine.”

  “How did that happen? Even this piece of junk should have registered tension before the breach.”

  “That’s why it has to be a glitch.” Lexis did his best to remain calm. “System claims that the oxygen level is fifty percent above standard and rising.”

  That was a relief. Undoubtedly, it had to be a faulty sensor or some software bug. Hackers were ransoming systems all the time. The pilot didn’t envy what would happen to those unfortunate souls. The United Orthodoxy didn’t like it when someone messed with their ships.

  “Hold on a minute,” Lexis said. There was one other possibility that could have brought about such a result. “Shut down all systems!”

  Before anyone could act, error messages cascaded on all screens faster than the automated systems could handle. What started in the cargo compartment had spread to vital areas of the ship, affecting engines, navigation, and life support. The two men desperately tried to initiate a complete shutdown, but the system no longer responded to their input. Physical breaches erupted, followed by a massive explosion in the secondary engine room.

  Twenty-seven seconds after the ship’s last transmission, it vanished from all screens of the colony mother-ship.