Page 45 of Stars in Nova

‘She’s competent, but I can hack her node to hide your ID from her, face, voice, and all.’

The man on the other end of the line smirked. ‘So not as potent as I’ve become out here with my belt.’

‘Still have that old thing?’

‘Ye old artifact is Paladian, and it rocks, rages, and delivers vengeance and pure comeuppance to those whofokkaround.’

Kisan huffed in amusement. ‘You’re a trip, Sax Sable.’

The holo flickered, the connection shimmering as the man’s shadowy figure grew dimmer. ‘Always. I aim to please. On an earnest note, be careful, brother,’ he said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘The Fringe has teeth. So does whatever is waiting for you on Orilia. Bite back, bite hard, and may the gods be with you.’

The transmission ended, plunging the cabin into silence.

Kisan sat motionless for a moment, his mind churning. The subtle scent of leather and metal filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of the Cephei’s engines.

He leaned back, his aqua eyes gleaming in the dim illumination. Focused on the rushing glow of light and dark outside the viewscreen.

‘So the Fringe has teeth,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Let’s see if they’re sharp enough for me.’

Orilia XIV awaited, and with it, the answers he sought—and the reckoning he couldn’t avoid.

A Maelstrom of Terror

Traveling through hyperspace took years off your life.

One needed perseverance, aptitude, and an acceptance of the monotonous to withstand it.

As the Cephei tore through the tunnel of folded space, Kisan exercised, reading as much as he could about the Orilian planet and musing about the woman who’d played him like an A track.

During the self-pity sessions, he refused to admit as such; he listened to old jazz and blues standards.

The melancholic songs matched his disposition, and he immersed himself in them with a bitter appreciation.

Plus, it was a welcome realization he was not the first chump in history to fall for a siren woman.

Outside the viewport, the void was a mesmerizing display of shifting ribbons—indigos, violets, and greens. They swirled together like the fabric of some unearthly dream, a sight that never failed to inspire awe.

The throb of the ship was a steady companion to the hypnotic chaos inside his soul.

A neural ping interrupted ‘The Thrill Is Gone,’ an old, slow, minor-key melancholy song that tugged at his weary heart.

He sucked his teeth. ‘What gives?’

‘Approaching the designated coordinates,’ she said. ‘Prepare to exit hyperspace.’

‘Fokk, finally.Sante.’

Kisan sat up in the pilot’s chair, his vivid eyes fixed on the navigation display.

Bracing, on alert, gripping the throttle as the countdown blinked on the screen.

The final moments stretched taut, and the ship shuddered as hyperspace folded away.

The stars snapped into clarity, a sea of pinpricks scattered across the infinite black. The abrupt stillness was disorienting, and the craft’s throbbing became louder against the oppressive quiet of real space.

Before him, the quadrant of the Fringe unfolded—a desolate expanse of dust-colored void dotted with asteroids that floated like forgotten relics.

In the distance, Orilia XIV hung like an orb countered within the darkness.

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