I wake with a raging headache and my cheek plastered to the floor with spit. The ship's alarms are blaring, the ringing bouncing between the empty planes in my head. The contents of my shelves lie scattered across the floor. I choke as the fumes from my prized bottle of tequila float up from the damp carpet. The shards of which litter my desktop.

I stumble to my bed hoping what little I've eaten in the last twenty-four hours stays there. I plop down on the firm mattress and take a calming breath to assess the situation. The last thing I remember was watching Sarka leave with Ash.

And then nothing.

Just Ash, promising me she wouldn't do anything foolish. At the disarray around me, I have to assume she did. Goddamn her. For once I wish she'd think things through before jumping head first into every situation.

I run through all the facts. There was an explosion. Not aboard the Persephone. We wouldn't have survived an explosion that big. It must have happened on board the Posterus.

As soon as I stand, the ship lists. I collapse back onto the bed. Glass and debris careen off my desk. Out the window the stars move in a sickening arc across the view. We've lost control of the stabilizers.

Eight months and eleven days. The total sum of my captaincy. I've been in charge less than a year and I've already destroyed the ship. And this on the brink of embarking on the most prestigious mission of my career, hell, of any captain's career.

Eight months ago, I walked onto the bridge for the first time gripped with a strange mixture of fear and elation. There was no one else, only me, in charge of one hundred and eighteen individual lives. My choices were no longer for me. I needed to be selfless. A trait prized by every Belter but few achieve. There's a saying on Delta: feed the cows first. It's the farming capital for a reason. They're not too bright when it comes to articulation. It doesn't matter where you're from. The mines on Epsilon, the farms on Delta, the factories on Beta, or the government on Alpha. It's the same across the Belt. You don't come first.

There isn't a man, woman, or child who hasn't felt the sting of that lesson. Even on Alpha where they're taught to serve the people. Life isn't easy.

Where I grew up on Delta, things aren't so bad. If you like farming. At least there's work. On Beta, too many jobs are becoming automated, leaving workers no choice but to head to Epsilon. And on Delta the work takes years to kill you. Not like on Epsilon where working the mines has a life expectancy of months not decades.

And if you don't want to farm, mine or slog away in a factory, you can join Union fleet. The life expectancy isn't that much better than Epsilon. But who wouldn't trade in the mines for a ship? Most of the time we're hauling cargo from one asteroid to another. But when you compare it to working the mines or farms, it's freedom.

When I imagined finally docking at the Posterus this is not what my mind pictured. I had no idea I would show up in a burning wreck, reeking of failure and feeling like crap.

I march, with as much dignity as my wobbly legs will allow, to the bridge. I need to see what that bastard did to my ship. I need to find out if Ash is okay.

It's chaos.

As soon as the doors slide open, the acrid smell of burning solder and copper slaps me in the face. It's followed by a heat so scary, my pulse skips a couple times before kicking into high gear. We're on fire.

"Vasa!" I shout to my comms officer, who has his head stuffed behind a console. "What's our status?"

The ship lists again. Seven crew members in various positions of panic, grab for a bulkhead. I, on the other hand, flail about until my feet skid to a halt in the doorjamb.

"Captain!" Vasa lurches toward me, but I wave him off. I don't need his help. What I need is to get this situation under control. The bridge tips again, sending us all starboard. My head glances off the helm controls and I land on my hands and knees.

"What's wrong with the stabilizers? Why are we listing so goddamned much, Vasa?" I pull myself up, crawling along the starboard controls until I reach comms up front.

"The docking clamps blew, too much strain from the reverberation and now we're drifting. I haven't assessed the damage. But I'm going to be honest, Captain, the stabilizers are the least of our problems." He waves toward the surface in front of him. It's lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. He swallows hard before continuing. "We've got a hull breach and fires on four different decks, including engineering." His dull brown hair coats his forehead in a sticky mess. Sweat runs down his pasty face.

Fuck.

That's my first thought. Too many first priorities. That's my second.

Vasa stares up at me like a trusting puppy, as if now that I'm here, I'll have all the answers. The truth about being in charge, and this is the part that sucks, is that most of the time you're faking. Most of the time you sound like you know what you're talking about. But you don't. You're guessing and hoping that your guess doesn't kill people.

As I stare into the pasty face of my third in command, I can't decide which is the worse of our two problems. Getting sucked into space by a hull breach or the fires sucking up all our oxygen. Either choice I make will kill someone.

"Where is the hull breach?"

"Deck four. There are twelve people on that deck as far as I can tell. But there could be more. The fires are messing with some of the sensors."

"And where are the fires?

"Med deck, engineering, officer's mess, and the forward shield compartment." He traces the blinking lights on the console like he's playing connect the dots. Julianna Olczyk, my helms officer, slides up beside us, eager to hear my plan. Her thick blond curls escape her tight bun. I look at the hard faces staring up at me from various stations around the bridge. All with those same hopeful eyes. I know they're waiting for orders. Waiting for me to take charge.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Get a team down to deck four to seal the breach."

"Comms are down."

"Christ, Vasa. Is anything working?"

"Emergency life support."

"Fantastic." I pace toward the helm to buy myself time. The movement helps keep the panic at bay. I rub my forehead. That helps a bit too. Think of something, and make it fast. I press the heal of my palm into an eye socket, bright blinding pain and light follows. I know what I have to do, I just don't like it.

"Okay," I say. Everyone's attention snaps even tighter, like a thread pulled taught. "Vasa, I need you to work on restoring comms. When you get it working, let me know, then contact the Posterus and get a report from them. Olczyk, stay and help him out and see if you can't figure out what's wrong with the stabilizers." I point to the five other crew members. "You guys follow me, we're going to split into groups and tackle the fires and the hull breach."

***

Four chutes and ten minutes later, we're standing in the landing on deck four, suited up. Two sets of eyes, panicked, await my orders. We're trained for emergencies, but in truth, these guys aren't prepared for this. They're bridge officers. The chances of us finding anyone alive are remote. Our real goal when we enter the deck, is to plug the gapping hole in our hull. I'm unsure if I should prepare them for it. I know none of them will back out now and I'd rather no one throws up with their helmet on.

"Okay, keep your eyes peeled for survivors, there's a good possibility that no one survived. We all know the text book description of space exposure, but the reality is much, much worse. Trust me. If you feel sick, don't play the hero. Head back here." Nods all around. Good. Let's hope they actually listen. "We need to make it to the starboard side, section fifteen. That's where the breach is."

I sent the other three to engineering to get control of that fire first. Without engineering we'd be dead in the water. After that, we're all headed to the med deck. I have a feeling it'll be filling up real soon.

I wave my palm over the door sensor and it opens to a deathly silent hallway. The atmosphere is eerie. The emergency lights flash red above and the LEDs blink green along the floor. Each pointing the direction to safety. The opposite direction we're heading.

As soon as the door closes behind us, the ship lists again and we stumble along the corridor. I lose my footing and slide face first onto the floor, inches from a wide-eyed Fukui. His skin is a dull grey, his expression frozen in a horrified grimace. I stagger back. The ship swings aft and my knee slams down on his hand.

It shatters.

In an instant, pieces of the engineer are falling through the metal grate at my feet. With my palm braced on the wall, I take deep, calming breaths, willing my heart to slow and my mind to focus on our task.

The hole, when we reach it, is no bigger than my head. Through the opening the Posterus spins into view as we drift further away. It looks undamaged except for the patch we tore off. Debris streams from the breach like water trickling from a tap.

I'm amazed by our sheer dumb luck. As the vastness of space spreads out before us, the utter silence is so powerful it's almost deafening. Our insignificance and fragility has never been so clear. It's indescribable, this feeling that washes over me. As I stand on the edge, I'm humbled and awed and at an utter loss as the stars, so numerous, swarm my senses. We should be dead. So many moments in our evolution, in our history, should have aided in our extinction. Yet here we are, like a misplaced comma in a line of code, so small and yet still capable of wreaking havoc all the same.

In seconds, the sight is gone as we place a panel over the hole and apply welding tape to bind it in place. As soon as the weld is complete, a whoosh of sound breaks free and surrounds us.

"Come on guys, let's go put out some fires."

The intercom crackles in my helmet and I hear Vasa's voice make contact.

"Status report."

"Well, Captain, I've got good news and bad news."

I huff at this. "Get to the point. What's happening on the Posterus? Do they know what happened? What the casualties are?" Is Ash alive?

"That would be part of the bad news."

"Only part?"

"You should come up to hear this, Captain."

"Well, what's the good news?"

"I've got comms back up and working."

***

"Shut those goddamn alarms off, Vasa." I growl as I step onto the bridge. I turn, startled to see Sarka leaning against the wall. Olczyk's got a gun pointed at his stomach and there's an insouciant grin on the bastard's face.

I jerk a thumb at him as I stomp toward the helm. "Part of the bad news?" Vasa only nods. He's focused on the chart in front of us.

"The Posterus isn't much better off than us. Sensors are down, but they were able to launch a probe." He transfers the chart to the front holo. It darkens to become a mass of stars and ping times running up along the side.

"What is that?" I ask, stepping closer to examine the chart.

"That's where we are." Our call sign pulses lost—along with the Posterus'—amid various coloured dots. Each represents a different type of star. I don't recognize a single configuration.

"That can't be. The probe must be malfunctioning."

Vasa shifts, running his hand along the front of his tunic. "They sent out three, all came back with these results."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we aren't in Kansas anymore," still leaning against the wall, Sarka grins. It's wolfish and mean.

Vasa frowns. "Um, I'm not sure what Kansas has to do with it. But we're definitely not in our solar system anymore."

****************

Thanks for reading! If you like what you've read please consider leaving a vote or comment. All feedback is welcome. If you've stumbled here and have no idea what's going on, there is a first book you may want to check out.

This is a first draft, and while I always outline and edit anything before posting, mistakes slip in, if you see any please feel free to point them out.