No, theDestituteappeared to be flying directly for the Kialoa Nebula. The nebula infamous for its frequent, almost paranormal starship disappearances.
Well, fuck.
“That’s a dead zone,” Torian spluttered.
“Millennia ago, it was this ship’s safe port. Today… dead zone is somewhat accurate.”
Heart pounding yet again, Torian drew a slow breath, analyzing the console. Moss also didn’t seem to know how to interrupt the flight path, evidenced by its lack of written instructions. So… it was all on Torian to figure this out.
Maybe Auto-Nav could respond to voice commands. Torian cleared her throat and said, “Auto-Navigation. Respond.”
A mechanical voice, flat in tone and inflection, said, “Awaiting command.”
“This is futile,” Moss said.
“We won’t know until we ask.” Torian redirected her attention to the console, where she assumed this system was located. “Auto-Navigation. Cancel reroute. Authority: Captain Razner.”
“Reroute unable to be canceled. Request denied,” the auto-nav said. It spoke neutrally, but to Torian’s panicked ears, it sounded almost cheerful.
“Cancel reroute.”
“Request denied!”
Moss added, “This system has no reasoning capabilities.” A pause, followed by a deadpan “Trust me. I’ve tried.”
Torian slid back in the pilot’s seat, glancing around for… an owner’s manual, or something. Which she knew was stupid, but also, damn it, some instruction would be helpful right now. “Can you overtake its system? Force it to reroute?”
“I am life support. I was never intended to take navigational control of the ship.”
“You’re so advanced. Can’t you try?” Torian pleaded.
Moss was silent for a moment. “Attempt number 7,323 failed.”
That wasdefinitelysarcasm.
Torian released a frustrated huff. “So, there’s nothing we can do? Why did you wake me up if we’re just going to catapult to our deaths anyway?”
“This nebula will not be my death. As long as theDestitutehas a hull, I will survive in my closed system.”
“So, I’m the only one who’s fucked.”
“Correct.”
Torian laughed hysterically and went back to the auto-navigation system, even as the starship seamlessly entered another wormhole and darkness winked over them. Facing total black, knowing they’d be dead in space when they spit out, desperationslowly faded into misery as Torian prodded the flight panel in a dozen different ways.
No success. Some instruction set deep within the core of this ship had activated, and nothing could override it. Like it or not, they had become prisoners the moment the engine failed.
Torian finally pushed back from the console, feeling numb. Whatever was going to kill them, it wasn’t happening fast—like the last wormhole, they’d probably be here a while.
“I think I need a cup of coffee.” There wasn’t anything else to do here. She left the flight deck and trudged to the kitchenette instead.
Moss asked overhead, “Have I failed you?”
“What?” Torian balked, stopping short in the middle of the staircase. “Youdidn’t cause the engine to fail, or the auto-nav to lose its mind.”
“It has no mind. It is a conglomerate of eons-old code and terrible conversation tactics.”
“Not like you. You’re delightful,” Torian said, an inkling of humor making her smile.
