Shades Of Forever

"Sir. We lost contact with another squad."

Captain Sprick looks over at the communications officer seated at her console, his hands clasped behind his back, his stance in front of the master tactical repeater upright and rigid. All around the bridge of the cruiser, muted conversations fall silent.

"Violations?"

"We don't know, sir," the communications officer replies in a professionally calm tone. "There's evidence of non-causal activity, but the sensors are suffering severe degradation from our engine output and we can't resolve the local reality with any degree of confidence."

"Have you tried an alternate existence regression, Officer Edelwhite?"

"We did, sir, but none of us have enough levels to break through the noise."

"There aren't enough levels to break through that noise," a new voice complains in a whisper next to Communications Officer Edelwhite.

"What was that, Gunnery Officer Chen?"

"Just wondering why we're pushing the engines so hard, sir. We're running right on the edge of a reality breach. Surely we can drop the output for a day or so?"

"Gunnery Officer Chen," Captain Sprick says icily, "We have been pursuing this literally priceless prototype for eighty-five days, and we are on the verge of cornering it. I am not about to let one of the other corpos swoop in at the last minute and deny us of our prize. If a breach occurs, you had best make sure we are ready to respond to it, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Now," Captain Sprick raises his voice slightly, "you all know I value questions that refine the infinities we can access, but the incognito field stays on until we have safely retrieved the prototype and delivered it back to Wutan III. Am I clear, Gunnery Officer Chen?"

"Yes, sir!" Chen turns back to his station, trying to ignore the trickle of cold sweat crawling down his spine. Captain Sprick returns his attention to the intricate chaos of numbers, landscape displays, and force icons collected in front of him.

"Very good. Officer Edelwhite, continue trying to pin down the prototype's non-causal signature. Run another regression on the data from last night. There's no way that dirt-eater can hide from us forever, not with an entire strike force sweeping the area."

"Right away, sir."

Sprick's eyes focus on the tactical plot, trying to pull meaning from the jumbled mess of his latest operation.

I'm bringing you back, he silently vows to the still-elusive quarry. I do not need anyone else. This ship can do it, these people can do it, no matter how difficult the task. I trained them to.

Yet despite all Captain Sprick's levels, all his experience, the tactical plot refuses to give up its secrets just yet, the prototype still thrashing at the end of his line. He sighs.

"Captain leaving the bridge. Officer Taylor, you have the helm."

"Yes, sir!"

Captain Sprick retreats to his personal office, and the next three hours pass in relative quiet, various logistical and administrative duties dealt with quickly and competently. Watch schedules are approved, menu options are considered, confirmation of the latest Hellhound resupply to the forward operating base is sent, and the necessary minutiae keeping a front-line non-causal war cruiser in fighting trim is observed.

As the ship chimes the dinner bell, he allows himself a slight smile at the latest maintenance report from the engine room. Chief Engineer MacWillie and her new protege continue working miracles with the engines, justifying his overlooking of her against-regulations-energy-draw earlier that day.

Not like you to stick your neck out for someone with less than ten integration levels, MacWillie. If he's your replacement, train him well. We'll need him.

Captain Sprick finishes the last report and rises from his desk, knuckling his back. With any luck, the ten minutes he set aside for dinner won't be interrupted.

"Captain, sir!"

A familiar voice sounds in his head from the ship's infonet.

"Yes, Officer Edelwhite?"

"We just lost biometrics from a sentry patrolling outside the operations center. Squads are moving to intercept now." Captain Sprick steps towards the hatch separating his office from the hallway leading to the bridge, but before he can get through it the voice returns, a tinge of excitement underlying the cool professionalism. "Sir, we have confirmation. It's the prototype!"

Sprick breaks into a run down the corridor, scrambling to pull up a smaller version of the tactical plot in his right eye. Friendly icons are engaging a wavering energy signature that bounces around like an Arcadian Hyperflea on bath salts, zipping its way through attack after attack. Several biometrics flash orange, indicating significant injury, but aside from the initial patroller, no other flatlines are present.

"Sound General Quarters. I want us prepared for orbital support and tracking. We're not letting it get away this time."

A klaxon blares throughout the entire ship, and the strobing lights of General Quarters paint the hallway vermillion. Captain Sprick finishes his run to the bridge and comes to a halt in front of the main tactical repeater. First person perspectives from the troops below provide a chaotic glimpse at the engagement, their shots constantly missing a blurry figure moving up the mountainside like a ghost.

"Is that dirt-eater trying to attack an entire strike force alone?"

"Focus on your weapons, Gunnery Officer Chen!" Captain Sprick snaps, while inwardly thinking the exact same thought. "Officer Taylor, does Non-Causal Foresight have any insight on why the prototype is heading directly for the base? Is the pocket dimension leaking?"

Officer Taylor gulps.

"We think it's just bad luck, sir. From the prototype's assumed angle of approach, the pocket dimension is directly in line with a higher elevation site that would normally be a preferred location. We think that's where they're headed."

"There's no such thing as bad luck," Sprick growls, but his focus is entirely on the scene unfolding in the tactical plot. "Warn the base, immediately-"

"Target is through the pocket dimension barrier," Officer Edelwhite sings out as the tactical plot vanishes into swirling gray mist. "Trying to get a visual through reality interference."

A new voice breaks into Sprick's head.

"Yer Captain sir! We have a problem!"

"What is it, MacWillie? We're busy up here."

Sounds of distant clangs and horrible squelching join MacWillie's words, accompanied by Huckens bellowing and swearing.

"And is what you're all doing up there the thing that's causing my engines to seize up, because, sir, we've got atemporal flux coming down the pipe from reality the likes of which would cause god herself to shit a brick! It's resonating with the engines! With this energy load, we're looking at a breach, yer Captain sir! A big one!"

Captain Sprick sucks in a breath, and then the gray mist of the tactical plot resolves into a perfectly clear display of black-line fissures vanishing into a pile of reality sinks waiting to be brought back to the ship for safe venting.

"We have visual... oh fuck me."

Officer Edelwhite whispers the last part in a horrified voice, and the pile shifts somewhere else. The briefest pause. Something looks in.

"reality breach!" Officer Taylor screams, clutching at her head. "It's an Entity, sir!"

"Gunnery Officer Chen. You may fire at will."