Temporal shift initiated.

“Wait, god damn it!” the pilot swore at the automated voice coming through his earpiece.

Spatial transit anomaly detected. Destination uncertain.

“Stop transit!” he barked.

Transporting in 10…

“You all right down there, Cap?” Jenkins’ voice came over the intercom as the pilot tried to punch in a manual override on his control panel.

9…

Through the cockpit window of his 762 Knighthawk, the shadow of a giant spacecruiser loomed large. On the bridge of the enormous ship, a man dressed in purple and black Federation robes waved a hand while his voice boomed through the sub-space intercom.

“Mr. Wrynn. I do hope you enjoyed your retreat at Pluto’s Prescience. We hope your stay was as fruitful as it was relaxing. Unfortunately, this will be your last night on this plane of existence.”

8…

The pilot covered his face as a shower of sparks splashed up from the damaged console. The display flashed with the cautionary message HULL BREACHED as if the giant sputtering hole made from the cruiser’s ballistic laser wasn’t warning enough.

7…

He racked his brain for a way to get out of this mess. “Jenkins,” he called into his earpiece transceiver. “Jenkins, you copy?”

“I’m here, Cap. What’s going on over there?”

“Temp shift is trying to go off. Damn Feds must have got to the bird while we were on the ground. Navigation says I’ve got a 17% chance of re-entry.”

6…

“Can you make free?” asked Jenkins’ concerned voice. “Last guy with a bad shift ended up inside an asteroid.”

“Don’t worry about me,” said the pilot. “What’s your range?” He deployed his oxygen helm and fiddled with some switches on the console that gave ambivalent responses as he waited for a reply from Jenkins. The cockpit window slowly started to open and the emptiness of space depressurized the chamber.

5…

Jenkins’ voice came with some radio feedback. “We can make it to Rastabar if we take it slow.” He said something else that could not be made out as the Federation cruiser’s intercom boomed once more.

“Oh, Mr. Wrynn, the time for petty thieves is up—” the pilot smashed the mute button to drown the cross-talk and spoke directly into his transceiver.

“Copy, Jenkins. Get the goods to Carel and he’ll get you paid. Send my cut to Rose. And tell her…” He unbuckled his seatbelt as he thought of something profound to say.

4…

“Free at last. Free at last!” The Federation lackey’s singing voice came through again, broadcasting on a new channel to avoid the mute. “It is such a pleasure to watch you squirm, Mr. Wrynn.”

The pilot pushed through the half-open hatch to distance himself from the space-shifting Knighthawk. The ejector seat hadn’t been repaired since the maneuver on Lindholm.

3…

His foot caught against the bottom of the console and he managed to wrench it free to get his full body out of the ship. He took a breath through his oxygen helm and said, “Tell her, I’ll find my way back home.”

2…

The pilot pushed away from the ship, traveling slowly through space to get out of range of the warp zone.

“So long, Mr. Wrynn.”

“Godspeed, Cap. It’s been a pleasure.”

1…Temporal shift executing.

A blinding flash of light engulfed the 762 Knighthawk as the warp drive spun up. On the very edge of its radial pull, the toe of the pilot’s boot was caught in sinking space-time. He tried to yank it free — better to lose the leg to freezing space than to end up God knows where — but the warp dragged him deeper into the center of the opening wormhole. With nothing to hold on to, the gravitational force sucked him down and in the next moment, both pilot and ship disappeared leaving only empty space behind.