Chapter Text
Luneterra’s MythEngine team is the first to see it:
a high-dimensional blast from a distant place in the universe.
By law, the Crimson Sovereign must determine the severity of this threat.
Rosen had barely recalled her soul back from her mental health day vacation when the alarms sounded, and the entire office of the Mavericks were still scrambling by the time she entered the door. Several of them typed furiously on their tablets as they worked, with some holographic screens flying across tables and through people.
“Report,” she said, tossing the jacket she just disrobed over her chair, feeling the prickly heated tension on the back of her neck.
A nervous technician gestured at the big 3D holographic feed hovering above the war table. “We confirmed the surge originated from outside our mapped sectors." The map expanded, showing pings of other galactic systems spaced a little too wide from where the main signal was being tracked. "The coordinates correspond to... in the middle of nowhere. The planet itself is not present in MythEngine’s database or in any of the old order’s maps, but we did detect it within a super-cluster we've mapped at about halfway point."
“The blast itself came from a higher-dimensional source," another analyst continued, pulling up a pixelated recording of ground zero. A bright purple-white flare shooting upwards from the planet's atmosphere for several minutes it seemed. "We just verified the spectral bands and it doesn't correspond to any material we know. It was also a rare case of instantaneous transmission likely due to the alien nature of the power source. Meaning we picked up these readings and footage as it was happening.”
“This next part is mere conjecture, but perhaps the vessel made to contain this strange material couldn’t stabilize in time so the energy from it had to be released. Most of the energy was shot back into space. There's that dark bottoming blob on the planet's surface as we can see on this replay" — the assistant fast-forwarded the footage to show that — "so maybe there was a bit of damage on the planet itself. There may be more to it, if we can get the manpower to observe the planet closer.”
“It was bright enough to be seen from Luneterra,” Rosen finished, brow furrowed. “Our planet that sits at the edge of the observable universe. You’re telling me something way over there went off strong enough for us to see it here..."
Heads nodded grimly.
“And this…” she squinted at the rest of the notes at the side. “What's this note about a debris field?”
“Possible glints of a wreckage which we did find spectral band matches for certain metals in our universe. Union Galaxia can’t confirm if it's one of their fleets until they see higher-res captures.”
“We can’t get any more pixels from that?”
“With all due respect, our Sovereign, not even infrared cleans up the image.”
Rosen rose from her seat. Clearly, it was time for the Union to give her special privileges back. Though she was surprised to find not a single representative of theirs in this roo— ah, crap. Today's the Intergalactic Warden Assembly. Euclide would only hear about this after that.
And yet there was no time to waste. "Prepare my Darlin’ at the hangar. I'm going. Just let the old man know and he'll approve it." She was answered by a chorus of ascent. Some of the staff began to leave the room to get on with their new tasks. "So how many jumps is this gonna be?”
Everyone balked at that question. A few exchanged looks.
Rosen crossed her arms. “I can't hear any of you, guys.”
“…One hundred and three jumps, our Sovereign.”
Rosen's face soured. “You’re joking.”
“We checked all the possible routes, we are so sorry.”
The room was filled with resigned sighs, and a lot of "It can't be done, it's crazy."
Rosen flashed them a smile. "Still, somebody has to do it, no?"
By the time dawn arrived, they re-charted a new route through an extensive relay network within Union's jurisdiction, threading across stellar colonies to cut the impossible 103 jumps down to 22. Still insane numbers as the sheer distance scaled higher per consecutive jump. But this was survivable given her constitution – this body of hers, though human, was a gift from The Origin after all.
Rosen’s personal prep list was laughably short compared to the cargo being loaded at the compartment of her spacecraft. Just the essentials: her custom white jacket with the puffed sleeves, decorated with pins she picked up from her previous travels, a white crop top with a matching skirt, and her trusty utility belt. One hung from her waist that carried her personal and work tablets and some nutrition blocks, and the belt snuggled around her right thigh that contained a compact version of her weapons. Overall, the goal was to look as normal a traveler as possible, but her way of dressing sometimes gave her away from planets that weren’t modern-aligned just yet.
She tossed her weathered beige cloak into the backseat – the one that she wore to hide said ensemble from view, and even used it to project a different facade all over her body. She vaulted herself into the pilot’s seat with the practiced grace of a veteran, the control panel flickering to life as it read the presence of its owner at the helm. With a few button clicks the renewed navigation data started syncing to the controls. A soft chime interrupted the process.
TASKMASTER ACCESS:
UPGRADED (TEMPORARY)
WELCOME BACK,
EX-GENERAL ROSEN ABENDROTH,
CRIMSON SOVEREIGN.
Rosen leaned against the soft, ergonomic pilot seat. Her work with MythEngine allowed everybody in Luneterra to “travel” among the stars without ever leaving the planet, but setting foot beyond the Otherworlds they’ve discovered was much more exciting. The feel of the earth, observing its sentient beings, inhaling toxic fumes from unknown territories… Okay maybe not the last part, but the point still stands. She started shimmying in her seat in time with the beeping of her terminals as it worked, her short white hair swaying ever so slightly to a distant upbeat tune in her head.
“About time you get to spread your wings again, cousin.”
The familiar gravel of Euclide’s voice broke her trance. She turned and saw him walking close to the spacecraft in his usual black admiral uniform, the overhead light of the hangar catching the strands of graying hair atop chestnut. Looks like he hadn’t had time for a haircut lately, as some of the tips curled closer to his earlobes. Even at a hundred and eighty years and the fine lines he's accumulated, he still carried the no-nonsense air about him that made most of the Wardens quiver in his presence. His icy sapphire eyes met her own crimson eyes, as sharp as the day he pretended to kill her.
Pretend was a generous word to describe it, but that would be a story for another day.
Rosen nodded to him as she fastened her seatbelt. The canopy of the cockpit descended to lock her in. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Euclide scoffed, waving his hands in dismissal. “Not with those twenty-two jumps, I wager.”
“You wound me so, Euclide~” she cried, acting out a stab to her heart. That coaxed a grin out of his usual stoic facade, and he waved goodbye. She said, “I’m off,” and though she doubted he heard her, he mouthed back, “Stay safe.”
The spacecraft was primed and ready as the cockpit finally closed, the engines humming and ready to set Rosen’s newest trailblazing across the universe.