The jump ended badly.
Not with an explosion. Not with alarms. With a long pull that went on too long and felt wrong from the first second. The ship did not lurch forward like it usually did. It dragged sideways instead, like something had caught it and refused to let go.
Aludin felt it in his stomach first.
It twisted hard, like he was falling and not falling at the same time. His vision dimmed at the edges. He reached for the nearest wall without really seeing it and grabbed metal. The surface vibrated under his hand. His grip slipped. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his back pressed to the bulkhead.
The hum of the ship dropped low, then wavered. It was uneven. Not loud. Unsteady.
Lights flickered once overhead.
Then they stayed on.
The pull eased. Not cleanly. Slowly. Like the ship was being released.
For a few seconds after that, no one moved.
No alarms sounded. No warning tones followed. The ship did not tear apart. It did not surge forward either. It just… existed. Floating. Quiet.
Aludin stayed where he was. His hands were numb. His fingers felt like they belonged to someone else. He kept them clenched anyway, afraid they would stop working if he let go.
His breathing came fast and shallow. Each breath sounded too loud in his own ears. He tried to slow it down because he knew that sound meant panic, and panic usually made things worse.
Mikael was the first one to speak.
"Okay," he said, his voice a little louder than normal. "We're not dead."
No one laughed.
Pethia stood near one of the support beams, one arm braced against it. Her stance was wide, steady, like she was still waiting for another hit. Her jaw was tight. She stayed like that for a few more seconds, then slowly eased some of the weight off her arm. She did not fully relax.
Jerad didn't say anything at first.
He turned in place, slow and deliberate, taking in the compartment. His eyes moved over the walls, the ceiling, the floor. He glanced at a flickering panel near the door. Then at the boy sitting against the wall. He listened, head tilted slightly, like he was paying attention to sounds no one else noticed.
"Report," he said.
Mikael's hands were already moving over the controls. He frowned at one of the readouts and tapped it twice, like that might make it change its mind.
"Hyperdrive's stressed," he said. "Not broken. Just… hot. Shields are recharging. We're not in a lane. We're not near anything."
He paused.
"Which means," he added, "we're drifting."
"That's good," Damon said from the corridor.
He stepped into the compartment, wiping his hands on a rag that was already dirty.
"Means no one's waiting," Damon finished.
Aludin kept his eyes on the floor. The metal beneath him was cold through his clothes. There was a scratch near his knee that looked old. Someone had dragged something heavy across it at some point.
His hands tingled now instead of being numb. Pins and needles crawled up his fingers. He flexed them once, then stopped. The movement made his stomach turn again.
Damon noticed him.
He crouched a short distance away, not too close. His voice dropped without him really thinking about it.
"Hey," Damon said. "Look at me."
Aludin hesitated. Then he lifted his head.
Damon's face was calm. Not smiling. Not worried either. Just steady.
"You're safe for the moment," Damon said. "Moment's important."
Aludin nodded once. He didn't trust his voice.
Damon reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small water pack. He held it out.
"Slow," he said.
Aludin took it. His hands shook as he brought it to his mouth. The water was cold and tasted clean. His stomach clenched when he swallowed, then slowly settled. He forced himself to stop after a few sips and lowered the pack.
Jerad stepped closer.
His boots made a dull sound on the floor. Aludin noticed how even his steps were. No rush. No wasted movement.
"Can you stand?" Jerad asked.
Aludin nodded, though he wasn't sure.
He planted one hand against the wall and pushed himself up. His legs shook immediately. The floor felt like it was moving under him, even though it wasn't. He swayed once, caught himself, then stood still.
"Good," Jerad said.
He did not reach out to help. He did not need to.
"Stay close to Damon."
Aludin nodded again.
Jerad turned away and headed toward the cockpit.
Pethia fell into step beside him.
"That jump was loud," she said under her breath. "They could've tracked it."
"They already were," Jerad replied. "That's why we ran when we did."
Mikael leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes still on the displays.
"We're keeping engines low," he said. "No active scans. No signals going out."
"Keep it that way," Jerad said.
The ship settled into a quiet that felt different from before.
Not tense. Not alert.
Empty.
Like space had opened up around them and there was nothing nearby to push back.
Aludin sat on a crate near the wall because his legs didn't trust themselves yet. Damon stayed close, pretending to check a panel that didn't seem broken. He tapped it once, frowned, then left it alone.
Thessa entered from the rear hatch a few minutes later. Her steps were even and quiet. She took in the room with a single look. Her eyes passed over Aludin for half a second, then moved on. She leaned against the opposite wall and stayed there.
Time passed.
Aludin didn't know how much. He had no way to measure it. His breathing finally slowed to something normal. His hands stopped shaking. The water helped.
Then the pressure came back.
It started small.
A tight feeling behind his eyes, like someone pressing a thumb there from the inside. His fingers curled without him meaning to. His shoulders stiffened. He swallowed and shifted his weight on the crate.
Damon noticed immediately.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Aludin shook his head.
"It's doing it again," he said.
Damon frowned. "What is?"
Aludin opened his mouth, then closed it. He searched for words and didn't find any that fit.
"I don't know," he said.
The hum of the ship deepened slightly.
Not loud enough to alarm anyone. Just enough to be wrong.
Mikael glanced at his panel. "Did anyone touch the engines?"
"No," Jerad said.
The hum deepened again.
Pethia straightened. Her hand moved closer to her sidearm without her thinking about it.
"Jerad."
"I hear it," he said.
Aludin's breathing sped up. The pressure built faster now. His skin prickled along his arms and neck. He pressed his hands hard against his knees, trying to ground himself, trying to make it stop.
The hum held for another second.
Then it faded.
The ship returned to its normal sound. Steady. Even.
Mikael stared at his readings. He didn't move for a moment.
"That wasn't us," he said.
No one answered.
Jerad turned slowly.
His eyes went to Aludin.
Not sharp. Not accusing.
Measuring.
"What happened," Jerad asked.
Aludin swallowed. His throat felt dry again.
"It felt bad," he said. "Then it didn't."
That was all he had.
Jerad held his gaze for another moment, then nodded once.
"Rest," he said. "We'll talk later."
No one argued.
The ship continued drifting, quiet and alone, deeper into dark space.