A few dozen thousand light years away from the MCS lay a small, unimportant solar system in one of the many unnamed clusters that existed in the Magnocracy. This was an area of space that existed in the border region of the Magnocracy’s influence, where the energy levels were too low for a faction like the Magnocracy to care about it but it was too close for smaller factions to dare lay claim. It was, in a way, a bit of a lawless zone.

It was here that the M1N4-CC-Azhan ripped through the fragile fabric of space-time, reentering the multiverse through a tunnel of raw chaotic energies. Space itself warped around the ship as the undifferentiated chaos energy was gradually realigned to the natural forces of the area, and the man-made wormhole clamped shut behind them.

Warping was an extremely expensive method of travel, orders of magnitude more so than burning the exorbitant amounts of propellant that would be required to physically push a ship over similar distances. What it lacked in affordability, however, it made up for in speed. The average ship capable of warping could travel more distance in a single month than a relatively primitive ship could in almost a year.

But Captain Lukira Azhan’s ship was far from average. By performing continuous Warps, slingshotting from torn space to torn space, they had achieved about half a year’s travel in a single day.

The ship was outfitted with some of the best parts a Middle Faction organization could possibly procure for Lukira and then some. It meant that, structurally, the ship would remain almost entirely unharmed by the brutal form of travel. In fact, they could hypothetically continue their current pace until they ran out of fuel with only minor repairs required.

Unfortunately, the ship’s fleshy crew were not so lucky.

Lukira looked around the control room at a number of pale faced, raggedly breathing individuals. They were her officers, those who had demonstrated their loyalty and ability over decades of experience together. A few of the faces had been replaced over the years, some through accident or attacks and others by her own culling hand, but most were of the same crew of ex-pirates she had started with.

Of the new faces, most of them were the more remarkable ‘anomalies’ she had collected over the years.

There were fourteen individuals in the room. Every single one of them was plenty powerful in their own right, with varying aptitudes and areas of expertise, but they were all people she intimately trusted to help guide their Warp. It was a task that they typically considered an honor, but in their current circumstances, she did not hold their reluctance against them.

After all, with every jump they drew further from their ultimate goal. Who among them would do so without a heavy heart? Unfortunately, that wasn’t even the event horizon of the black hole. Warps were inherently difficult for anyone who utilized them, a byproduct of traveling through a space creatures of the physical plane were never meant to traverse. They were even harder on those who shared the burden of controlling the flight through the chaotic realm that they abused for travel.

That they weren’t on a mission that any of them could honestly claim to want to be on could only make their current conditions worse. She surveyed their expressions, mixtures of pride, unwillingness, and intense nausea in varying degrees on each of them. Even her ever stoic third-in-command Percy—third only behind herself and Mina— looked like he had just watched his wife get blasted from an airlock.

Lukira herself stood in casual contrast in the center of the array with even breaths and a light smile. She was a picture of surreal indifference and undeniable authority. As far as the others could tell, at least. Inwardly Lukira swore at her churning organs as their space gradually reintegrated with the multiverse. It was a sensation she never got used to even after decades of subjecting herself to it.

She was beginning to think that the old bastards who promised her she’d grow accustomed to it eventually were merely strong enough to pretend it didn’t bother them. As she was now. The only difference was, she thought spitefully, that they did it for some kind of weak vanity. She did it to keep her crew from worrying about her.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Okay everyone,” Lukira began with a clap of her hands, “good work today. I’m sure you’ll all get used to it over our long journey. We’re resting in this system for twenty hours while Mina runs diagnostics and repair protocols. As you’ve been briefed, our map indicates a hospitable planet on which we can all stretch our legs within this star system. Let your people know. We will return to a similar pace before the day is up.”

Her twelve officers gave her their best salutes, the strain with which they did so visible on many of their faces. She did not criticize them though as they solemnly fled from the room one by one. Each of her officers had their own duties to attend around the ship to prepare it for their next Warp, as well as their own subordinates to direct to get it done. How they did so was up to them, as Lukira didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with so many subordinates.

That was the benefit of having a trustworthy crew, she thought to herself with a subtle self-appreciative nod. The lights of the array slowly powered down as her officers exited the room, until only herself and Mina remained.

“Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?” She asked the holographic representation of her starship’s intelligence.

“I believe I have located something that falls under Protocol #223, for your ears only. Permission to divulge, Captain?” The monotonality of her Second’s voice was still present, but Lukira thought she could hear a growing inflection in her most trusted subordinate that could only mean she was developing more. It was good news, she thought.

“No shit,” Lukira exclaimed as she recalled vaguely what Protocol #223 entailed. She gave the wide open control room a cursory glace, searching for any prying ears that might remain. Then, she spread her energies throughout the room as well. The was a faint shudder, then all was silent.

Aside from them, the room was empty.

“You may proceed, Mina,” she said after a moment. The hologram blinked in response.

“My sensors indicated an echoing of the space-time fluctuations caused by our latest Warp somewhere in this star system. I am currently triangulating the location, but initial estimates indicate a seventy-three percent chance that the source of these echoes are the cloaked entrance of a DPD-class anomaly.”

Lukira whistled appreciatively as she stepped off of the main control array. A Derelict Pocket Dimension, often referred to as a DPD, was a relic of the pre-Void Insurgence days of the new multiverse. Back then, everyone was in open arms with each other and invisible undetectable space stations were all the rage.

There were other forms of defensive structures, of course, but you couldn’t beat literally removing a structure from space and placing it within its own little dimensional pocket. That, and most of the other kinds of defensive structures from back then were summarily destroyed by the waves of Void Beasts that ravaged the fractured denizens of the multiverse.

That they found a DPD in this region of space was a bit of extreme luck.

“Do we have a read on the stability?” She asked as the array lit up again. This time, there was an illusory projection of the local star system and the points of interest coalesced above it. She had to crane her neck to see all of the image, so she stepped back some more.

“Insufficient data for accurate analysis. Based on projections, probable stability is very low,” Mina said as an array of fluctuating numbers blazed to life within the projection.

“Interesting. Why is a DPD listed under Protocol #223? It’s not exactly classified information, and I’m sure they others be happy to hear some good news.” Lukira knew she was, at least.

Running into a DPD was a bit like finding a pebble in an asteroid belt. The vast majority of them belonged to forces or people who either died during the Void Insurgence or lost the means to relocate them. Their very defence of not existing in the same dimension as everything else made them nearly impossible to find, save for extremely rare and expensive methods.

Methods such as tearing holes in the fabric of space and launching massive starships through them, causing intense fluctuations in dimensional waves that would bounce off of the entrance to a pocket space. Which was exactly what they did. It was far too expensive a method for anyone to reliably make a reasonable living off of searching for the things, but finding one incidentally was basically free real money.

“Twenty-five years ago,” Mina said in response to her question, “Djance Koronacht of the Red Faction stole our find from under us after we proved terribly unprepared for it. We later discovered that your previous seventh officer sold the information. You then categorized future DPD discoveries under Protocol #223.”

“Oh right, those assholes.” She grit her teeth as the old memory she had previously forced herself to forget resurfaced. Of course, she only forgot about it after her seventh officer was ‘removed’ and she sparked a life-long vicious rivalry with the Red Faction by making sure Djance lacked the balls to ever cross her again.

Of course, it was ultimately their own fault that any of that happened as far as she was concerned.

She sighed, and wiped the tension from her face with a firm hand. This was good news, and she should be happy right now. Exploring a DPD had been a dream of hers back in her early pirating days when even a few rocks from inside could pull her a sizable windfall. Unfortunately, such money wouldn’t mean much for her or her crew now.

Still, she would make sure they explored it thoroughly. If they were lucky, they might even find some king of operable relic inside. The old stations were often millions of years old, so it was statistically unlikely. If not, at least she didn’t have to waste twenty odd hours on some barely hospitable space rock in the middle of nowhere.

“Recommended party size?” She asked.

“Four to five at most, including yourself," Mina replied after a moment of consideration. "Any more and you would run the risk of the destabilized space collapsing.”

“Noted. Good work, Mina.”

She tapped a finger to the communicator in her right ear as Mina’s holographic image bowed, then vanished. Likely to do some more reconnaissance. Lukira sat down in her Captain’s chair idly as she made a mental tally of which three of her officers she would be bringing with her. With herself going, she couldn’t choose too many strong people or the DPD could collapse instantly.

That made Chandler, one of her weakest but most knowledgeable officers, a perfect choice. He was an average man in both looks and personal power who was one of the original band of merry pirates. Back from when their operations rarely left the Dixie Cluster. He had managed their resources then, and now he managed a relatively small group of office workers who did the same.

Only now they operated on a scale that would have left the old Chandler pissing his pants, Lukira thought with a smile. He was one of her few officers who spent more time working than training, and she valued his knowledge even if she did not value his attitude. His experience with rare and valuable objects would make him indespensable on an expedition where she might recognize nothing at all.

And if Chandler was coming, Indras was an important second choice. He was in appearance the perfect foil to Chandler, a massive man whose rippling muscles belied decades of ruthless training. He’d been a bit of a brute in the past, but Lukira found herself surprised more often than not by his knowledge of combat tactics and his natural charisma among their fighters. He seemed to naturally gravitate to a leadership role that still placed him firmly as ‘one of the guys’ and not someone even approaching equal to her in power.

All together, he was the perfect pseudo-general for her main forces.

And also the perfect meat-shield for Chandler, who could die to a stray asteroid if they weren’t careful.

Her third choice was as much an efficient one as it was a personal one. Yrell was different from Chandler and Indras for more of a reason than simply not being of Lukira’s original crew. She was one of Lukira’s ‘anomalies’, an individual that she recognized stood against the norms of the multiverse. An individual similar to herself, but also entirely unique.

Lukira had bathed in blood, both metaphorically and quite literally, to reach her current strength. Yrell had been scouted to her team at the tender age of thirteen from a dystopian shithole of a planet that Lukira had been paid to ‘liberate’.

Something about her environment had altered her natural affinity in an entirely unnatural way that allowed her to integrate her mind with other objects. She had once explained to Lukira that the process was similar to how a Cosmic Elemental like Mina could fuse with a starship, but if she were being honest that didn’t really help.

Some researchers at Command would likely have paid Lukira enough Warp fuel to traverse half the multiverse for Yrell’s body as a specimen, but even in her pirating days human trafficking had been beneath her.

After years of avoiding it, she certainly wasn’t about to get her crew into that mess now. If not for the morality of it, then for the practicality of it. People were trafficked because they were useful, and Lukira had no desire to sell useful people to her enemies. She would much rather send them on their merry way to some nondescript corner of the multiverse if they had no intention of working with her.

Luckily, Yrell had taken to Lukira and the crew very quickly all those years ago. They had basically raised her, and Lukira thought of her as the daughter she never had the chance to conceive. Additionally, her abnormal abilities had almost certainly paid for themselves by now. She was the perfect infiltrator, a spy who could integrate herself into an information network in a way that most groups had no way of understanding. It was a role for which Lukira thought there was no better, and the now twenty year old woman took it on with pleasure.

The only thing left to do was to regroup, supply themselves for a bit of adventuring, and head out. She pursed her lips for a moment and wrapped her chair in a small amount of cosmic force that gave it a slow, perpetual spin. It only took her a few moments to decide who to call first before she touched her finger to her right ear’s communicator.

“Captain?” Yrell’s curious voice spoke into her ear.

“Yrell, I have great news. Meet me at Deck Two in twenty minutes, and use discretion. We have a mission.”

“Oh, a mission?" Yrell's voice rose in excitement as she asked, "What is it?”

“Not now, Yrell, and not in public. In person. Prepare for a ten hour excursion into a potential dead zone.”

“Right away, Captain!” Yrell’s cheery reply came through her communicator.

Lukira sighed with a smile. Yrell was the easy one. She was always happy to go on missions with her and the others, much unlike a certain someone she was going to have to call next. Her smile grew larger as she pressed her finger to her ear again.

“Chandler,” she said before the man could respond to her call, “meet me at Deck Two in twenty minutes. Ten hour excursion into an unknown zone. Don’t tell anyone,” Lukira reminded sternly she waited a moment for the expected reply to come through the other end.

“Mother fuc—”

When it did, she ended the call with an abrupt click.

That wasn’t so bad, she thought with a chuckle. Chandler was always more frank with her than the others. It was an aspect that she could usually respect, sometimes find amusing, and occasionally be genuinely annoyed with. That he was frustrated with his sudden extra-curricular work was unsurprising.

He was a man of knowledge, numbers, and wealth. A man more likely to hire a team of individuals to go explore an archaic pocket of ancient technology than risk his own hide to do so. Some might call him a coward, but the fact that he yet lived despite his relative weakness on her ship made him respectable nonetheless.

She needed him and not some second-rate lackey of his for this expedition, his own say in the matter be damned. She then called her third officer, whom she had no worry would offer any insubordinate qualms.

“One second, Captain,” the man asked before she heard some muffled yelling among the crewmates he must have been fraternizing with. A few moments later, the yelling was gone and it was clear he had changed locations.

“What do you need me for?” He asked.

“Indras, meet me at Deck Two in twenty minutes. Security level five, threat level unknown. Ten hour minimum.” While she was succinct with Chandler because she thought it would be funny, she knew Indras appreciated the directness.

“Roger.” His reply came swiftly, and with it the call ended. Straight and to the point, just as she had expected. Lukira could respect that, she thought with a nod.

“Mina, prep my personal vessel for immediate expedition,” she said as the empty space around her as her spinning chair came to a stop.

“Already done, Captain,” Mina’s voice replied from an unidentifiable space somewhere in the room.

Lukira’s smile widened.

She may have tried to pretend otherwise, but she was genuinely excited for a bit of exploration. How couldn’t she be after her first and last run in with a Derelict Pocket Dimension had been so unfulfilling? At least, as unfulfilling as chasing around one of the Red Faction’s young scions for the better part of a month and destroying his assets could have been. But that was the wrong kind of fulfilling.

Her three officers might have wondered why they had been requested for the mission, but the reason was simple. Someone had been able to identify a point of interest in this star system that would require a little extra attention. The tiniest fluctuation in response to their sudden fabric-of-the-multiverse-tearing entry that human sensory organs could never have detected. She had also prepared everything from the beginning to enable their quick departure.

Combined, Lukira couldn’t help but smile as she made her way to Deck Two of her starship.

Mina was the best fucking Cosmic Elemental a girl could ask for.