NGC 6814

“There are definitely humans in that thing.”

It was a strange comment about the fast approaching Galaxy. One which gave the crew who heard it pause.

The first mate a man most called Watty, whose given name was Saul, turned to the Chief Engineer and smirked, the small dark skinned man he had come to trust during training and who had earned his friendship gave him a knowing smile back.

This trip had been a long one. The small twenty man crew was aboard an explorer class ship coasting 75 million light years from Earth and nobody felt fully awake yet from the decade of cyrosleep.

The captain would be allowed the ridiculous comment.

“Yes sir,” the second in command responds, “there will be.”

‘No,’ the word comes out like a dying croak. ‘There are humans there, I feel it. Turn the ship around! We need to go home.”

The silver haired Frenchman, who was rumored to be given command of the Starlight to get him out of the Sol system before an inquiry about unauthorized spending brought down the whole program, leaped for the controls being manipulated still by an auto pilot program.

First thing they teach you at the academy is a ship going near light speed wants to keep going near light speed so it should never be stopped going near light speed without the step down procedures.

The captain was going for the kill switch though. It was called the kill switch because that’s what it would do if touched:

kill everyone.

If he is allowed to touch the controls not only will the mission end, but so will all of their lives and any hope of exploring the NGC 6814 galaxy.

The captain would have gotten to the controls easily to if not for the huge hand of the Russian maintenance tech that grabbed him by the cuff of his shirt lifting him so that only his tippytoes brushed on the rubber coated aluminum floor.

Comically the captain works his legs like he could still loco mote on the magnetically charged flooring.

“Crazy little man is sleep sick. Maybe more sleep make you feel better,” and with a lazy smack the captain is knocked out cold by a face sized well placed palm strike.

Saul stares at the prone now snoring man.

“Captain, shall we maintain heading and speed?”

It takes a moment to recognize what just happened. Mutiny, he was now in command. Saul Watson was now captain. “Yes,” he answers the chief. “Place the oldman in the brig and continue straight on towards our destination.”


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