“I’m an alternative that refused to be erased.”
He crossed the hangar. No one stopped him. He was, after all, a nullity. A ghost. By the time security protocols registered his approach to the Event Horizon , he was already inside the auxiliary maintenance shaft—a route he had memorized during his “discarded” training simulations.
The diagnostic read
And then she was gone, leaving him alone in the command seat. The system still showed him as NULLED in the crew manifest. But the ship didn’t care about manifests.
Darya was in the cockpit, running pre-checks. Her hands fluttered over the controls. Once, twice, a slip. nulled alternative
Kaelen felt the words land like cold metal in his gut. Not just rejected. Nulled . Erased from the equation as if he had never been a variable. Darya, trembling hands and all, had pulled rank. And command, terrified of her political connections, had agreed.
“What if I refuse damping?” he asked. “I’m an alternative that refused to be erased
The mission was simple: a deep-space probe had gone silent near the accretion disk of a black hole designated Gargantia’s Shadow . The primary pilot, a woman named Darya Volkov with a neural rating of 9.2, was supposed to go. But Darya had developed “fold-sickness”—a quiet, incurable tremor in her quantum-entangled synapses. So command had turned to Kaelen.