Chapter Two

  First Jump, First Drop**

  Their First Jump

  Kael had expected hyperspace to feel like… more.

  More danger, more velocity, more sense of the universe folding itself in unnatural ways. Every spacer holovid he’d grown up on made a jump look like strapping yourself to a lightning bolt.

  Instead, sitting in the captain’s chair as S.S. Cosmic Clover aligned with the jump corridor, Kael felt something closer to a deep breath held between heartbeats.

  Kessa leaned forward in her co?pilot seat, eyes bright. “Ready for the fun part?”

  Kael glanced at the console again—triple?checked it, even though the autopilot had already handled 90% of the prep. “As I’ll ever be.”

  The ship vibrated gently, like it was clearing its throat. Indicator rings turned from amber… to green.

  Kessa grinned. “Then punch it, Captain.”

  Kael flicked the hyperspace initiator.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then the universe stretched.

  Not violently. Not with a roar. More like the soft, velvety sensation of drifting into sleep after a long day—an enveloping warmth that wrapped around the ship and smoothed every sound, every vibration, every thought.

  The stars outside elongated into silver threads, then dissolved into a swirling expanse of luminous fog. Hyperspace wasn’t bright, as Kael had imagined, but muted and tranquil—like gliding through the inside of a nebula painted in gentle blues and deep purples.

  Kael exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Wow.”

  Kessa propped her boots on the console, utterly unbothered. “Right? It’s cozy. Uncle Jorin used to say hyperspace was like a warm bath the universe ran for tired travelers.”

  Kael smiled at that. “He would.”

  The ship settled into its jump?corridor drift. Gravity felt a little softer, as if the ship was floating on thick velvet. The ambient hum deepened to a pleasant, resonant purr—the kind that seemed to vibrate in the bones in a comforting, rhythmic way.

  Kessa reached over and flicked a switch. Somewhere in the ship, soft music began playing. Something old. Acoustic. The type of tune Uncle Jorin used whenever he brewed tea during a jump.

  Kael closed his eyes for a moment, letting the feeling wash over him.

  A soft chime sounded.

  Kessa opened one eye. “…Did you hear that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Another chime. Then a faint ratcheting sound, like someone adjusting an old wrench inside the wall.

  Kessa frowned. “Is that normal?”

  Kael opened the maintenance log. “Uh… hyperspace diagnostics say everything’s fine.”

  “So what’s the noise?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  They listened.

  Chime. Rattle. Chime.

  Kessa whispered, “Maybe it’s his ghost.”

  “Kessa, no.”

  “Friendly ghost! Like, ‘Hey kids, nice ship, don’t forget to check the coolant tubes.’ Very supportive haunting.”

  “Kessa.”

  She grinned. “What? You’re making the exact face he used to make when I said I could sense ‘the spirits of the air recyclers.’”

  Kael rolled his eyes. “I’m checking the systems.”

  A beat of silence.

  Kessa leaned over the console, peering at the readouts upside?down. “Everything’s green.”

  “Yeah.”

  They exchanged a look.

  A perfectly synchronized shrug followed.

  Kael leaned back, letting the ship’s hum sink into his chest. “I guess… that’s just hyperspace.”

  Kessa softened, voice gentler. “Pretty peaceful, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I think I get why Uncle Jorin liked hauling so much. You don’t feel small out here… you feel part of something.”

  Kessa nudged his arm. “Also, you look a little misty?eyed. Are you crying again?”

  “Kessa!”

  “I’m just saying—hyperspace gets emotional.”

  He let out a helpless laugh.

  Two siblings in an inherited ship, floating through the universe’s soft dreamscape, wrapped in a moment that made them both realize:

  This was the beginning of their life.

  Their real life.

  And hyperspace—quiet, warm, and strangely intimate—was welcoming them home.

  Their First Drop?Out

  Two hours later, the console chimed again—this time louder, sharper, unmistakably official.

  Kessa straightened. “Approach marker. We’re coming up on the Nettle Station corridor.”

  Kael’s pulse kicked up. “Already?”

  “Hyperspace is faster when you’re having an existential moment.”

  “That’s not—” He stopped himself. “Never mind.”

  She gestured at the panel. “Your show, Captain.”

  Kael placed his hand on the deceleration control. The ship felt alive beneath his palm—warm and steady, waiting for him.

  “Alright, Starling,” he murmured. “Take us home.”

  He eased the control forward.

  The first sensation was a soft pressure behind the eyes, like the faintest hint of dizziness. Then the colors outside the viewport began to darken, the swirling blues and purples condensing into streaks, then threads, then sharp, bright stars.

  A low, throaty whumph echoed through the hull as the ship re-entered real space.

  Kael blinked rapidly. The stars were crisp again. The system’s primary sun shone like a soft lantern in the distance. Navigation lights blinked from a dozen small haulers scattered across the approach lane.

  Kessa grinned. “And that, dear brother, is a textbook drop?out. Ten out of ten. Judges are weeping with joy.”

  Kael let out a shaky breath. “That felt… bigger than the jump.”

  “It always does. Coming home to reality after warm hyperspace soup makes everything feel sharp.”

  “Hyperspace soup?”

  “Yup.” She stretched her arms overhead. “Delicious and cozy.”

  A new ping sounded.

  Kael checked the screen. “Traffic Control wants our ID and cargo declaration.”

  “Send it,” Kessa said, already tapping a response. “Don’t worry, I didn’t misfile anything this time.”

  “This time?”

  She flashed him a smile far too innocent to be actual innocence.

  He groaned. “Kessa…”

  But he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Their first jump. Their first drop. Their first real approach to a port that wasn’t part of training or childhood trips with Uncle Jorin.

  Below them, Nettle Station glinted like a slow?turning bead of copper and gold, ringed with docking tethers and draped in the soft glow of traffic beacons. Friendly. Small. Manageable.

  Kael’s chest filled with something warm and bright.

  “We did it,” he said quietly.

  Kessa bumped her shoulder against his. “Of course we did. We’re Harts. And this is only the beginning.”

  The S.S. Cosmic Clover angled gently toward the station, her engines humming like a welcoming sigh, and the twins felt—really, truly felt—that they had stepped into the first chapter of the rest of their lives.