The fang-covered creature came straight at him. It opened its maw as Halden repeatedly tugged on the rope.


    He felt himself pulled and fell to the ground, staring at the Fault.


    “You were in there only five minutes this time,” said Sadash. “What happened?”


    Halden grunted as he got back to his feet and dusted himself.


    “Felt like hours to me.”


    “Nope,” chimed in Corey. “We’ve been timing these ventures of yours. Thought it’d be useful, considering the time shifts you’ve described.” She looked at her wristpad. “Four minutes and thirty-nine seconds.”


    “What I find fascinating,” said Hesch’s voice from behind him, “is how the numbers never match. Sometimes it’ll feel shorter to you than how long you were really gone, while at other times—like now—you’ll say it felt like hours.”


    Halden looked around. They were all there—including the four latecomers. Adam Taar, Jazeka Pralik, Fabian Ratz, and Zyin Yimmin had all arrived a few days after him.


    “Meeting room,” he said. “Now.”


    He walked toward the command tent and the others moved aside to let him pass before following him into the building.


    It was a proper meeting room now. With a large table and five chairs on each side. At the head, another one for him, which he took.


    Halden waited for them to be seated, then tapped on his wristpad. An image formed at the center of the table, floating in the air between them. He’d started recording his trips. First as an experiment, to see if it would work. Then, when he saw that it did, to document his discoveries.


    “I was on one of their ships again. But this time, I saw humans.”


    “Humans? Working with those monsters? How is that possible?”


    He looked at Adam Taar—Nimida’s older brother had the same red hair but none of the feistiness.


    “That’s a good question. Sadly, I don’t have an answer.” He glanced at the recording. “Perhaps they are under constraint.”


    They watched in silence as humans walked in a hall. They seemed nervous when they came near one of the monsters, but the latter ignored them as they went on their way.


    “These people seem free to move around,” remarked Kunden. “And willing enough to do whatever it is they are doing.”


    “Look into their eyes,” said Pralik—the group’s psychologist. “You can read the fear in there. I think Prof. Roche is right. Those creatures have some sort of hold on these men and women.”


    “They’re slaves,” muttered Hesch.


    “But where do they come from?” asked Kunden.


    Halden rubbed his face. “We assumed they left no survivors on the worlds they attacked. Perhaps they kept some of their victims and...” He waved at the now-frozen image. “They did this to them. Or maybe these people are willing, despite the fear. Or maybe...” He slammed his fist against the table. “We need more data, damn it! Why can’t I communicate with them? I tried, but they never heard me. This I do not understand. I was able to interact with people the first time I went into that thing.” He stared up at the beam through the glass ceiling.


    Stolen story; please report.


    “Didn’t you say that woman heard you last time?” asked Hesch.


    He grunted. “Yes. But it was one-sided. Pointless.”


    “I wouldn’t say that.”


    They all turned to look at Fabian Ratz. The man had sat there quietly, his arms crossed, all the while staring at the image. Feeling all eyes on him, he shifted in his seat and placed his hands flat on the table.


    “We know communication is possible, even if it’s not systematic. That’s very useful information. Now we only need to find a way to control it.”


    Sadash snorted. “It’s raw thilium we’re talking about, Fab. By definition, it cannot be controlled.”


    “We use it to power our engines, don’t we?”


    “Yes, but we harness it first.”


    “Precisely.”


    Hesch laughed.


    All gazes turned to him.


    The young man spread his hands out.


    “Sorry. I just think it’s brilliant.”


    “What is?” asked Halden.


    Hesch pointed at the ceiling. “That thing, as a whole, cannot be controlled. Smaller chunks can. That’s what we do all the time. Ship engines are more unstable because there’s a whole lot more of it in there, so it requires a Coreum to contain it. But...” He glanced down at his arm. “Take a wristpad. It has a tiny amount of thilium in it and it’s perfectly safe. Right?”


    “Your point?”


    “Not mine.” He motioned to Ratz with his chin. “What Fab is suggesting is that we only use small parts of the flow to open a channel.”


    “And how would we keep it stable when I can’t control where or when I land?”


    “The idea,” said Ratz, “is to make a device that will follow you wherever you go so you can interact with the people around you. We only need it to be stable in your vicinity, which is much easier than to make the whole thing stable. You said sometimes others can hear you but you can’t hear them, while other times it’s the other way around. So the device should be able to amplify both incoming and outgoing signals as needed.”


    Ratz was a communications expert. If anyone could figure this out, it would be him.


    “Alright. How long will it take to make this thing?”


    The man looked at the woman on his right. “If Zyin gives me a hand, a couple of days.”


    Yimmin chuckled. “You give me way too much credit, hon.”


    “You do have a gift with machines,” said Bellem.


    “We can’t just wait for this, not even two days. Do it, but I’ll have to keep going until—”


    “I don’t think that’s wise, professor.”


    He blinked and looked at Nimida Taar. He could see the concern in her eyes.


    “What are you talking about?”


    “These sessions are draining you.”


    He frowned. “I feel fine.”


    “She’s right,” Corey said softly.


    “When was the last time you looked in a mirror?” asked Pralik.


    Halden glanced around the table and realized they all were worried.


    “A mirror?”


    Nimida Taar stood and grabbed his arm. “Come on. You need to see this for yourself or you won’t believe it.”


    Still startled by the turn of the conversation, he let her pull him to his feet and drag him to the bathroom. She placed him in front of the mirror and motioned toward it without a word.


    He stared.


    A light beard was starting to grow—he had shaved just this morning! His hair was grayer than he remembered and he could see wrinkles on his face that had not been there before.


    “Each time you return from one of those trips,” said the woman’s voice from behind him, “you look older. You can shave it off all you want, that beard keeps coming back—thicker and thicker. Grayer, too. And those wrinkles... This is not healthy, Halden.”


    He rubbed the stubble on his chin and blinked when she used his first name. She rarely ever did. He turned to look at her and noticed the others all stood there in the hall, watching.


    Kunden cleared his throat. “I think we should all take turns going in.”


    “No! I can’t ask you to—”


    “You’re not asking,” said Yimmin. “We’re volunteering.”


    They all nodded.


    “You need to rest,” Pralik added. “If you don’t... Well, I’d rather not see what happens then.”


    “It’d bring the whole project to a full stop,” remarked Hesch.


    That, more than anything else, brought Halden back to his senses.


    He straightened and nodded.


    “Very well. We shall work out a schedule. That is all.”


    As they turned to leave, he called out to them.


    “And, guys... Thank you.”