The priority work order pinged Crispin’s tablet. He groaned, double-shift exhausted, but hustled to berth Lambda-11.
The docking tube covered an open ship hatch. All panels shone green. Confused, Crispin rechecked the WO: umbilical connection failure.
Faint pleas echoed from the ship’s bowels.
He cautiously stepped aboard. “Hello?”
Silence.
Crispin inhaled a fetid tang. He commed Tainaron Station control. “I need a team at L-11.”
“Why? Nothing’s docked.”
“Impossible. I’m standing inside a ship.”
“External feed shows the berth’s empty, umbilical unextended.”
“But I’m—
The vessel faded back into aether, leaving Crispin’s body floating amidst cold vacuum. His soul however…
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