“Just because you’re a wonder from Pecostia doesn’t mean you’re a veteran of the void, mustache,” Phinex was saying. William raised an eyebrow at that, amused; the Scoatians, with their reptilian biology, had always considered humanity’s ability to grow tufts of hair on their faces to be disturbing. “It sure doesn’t make you one of the legends of the Western Sectors. I’ve heard that stories about ‘William the Pecostian’ were flying around ever since you humans left your old rock.”
“Aww, come on, Phinex,” William said, smiling as he lightly tapped Widowmaker’s attitude jets. The ship sidled over to Williams’ touch until it hovered over the herd of asteroids. “What makes you think I’m not the legendary William the Pecostian? My name is William, or so I’ve been told, and I am from Pecostia. You just need to get out more.”
There was a long pause across the communication circuit, followed by the rumbling laughter of several wranglers. Phinex growled into his own circuit, quieting the hecklers.
“He was nothing but a tall tale, Pecostian,” Phinex argued, “and so are you, if you really think you can lay claim to the stories. That’d make you… what, two-hundred-years old? There’s no way you’re the actual William the Pecostian. You’re just another human, making a big claim that was nothing but hot air.”
William chuckled. “You should try trusting us humans, Phinex,” he said. “There’s more than just me out here with ‘tall tale names’, you know. Take my buddy Johannes Henris, for example, or Pól Eignon.” He gave a soft chuckle as he recalled the stories he had heard. “Now, those two would give you a run for your money in their trades, and—”
The speaker gave a harsh crackling sound and William went silent, listening: Verton must have grabbed at his ships’ communication circuit with one massive hand, creating the interference.
“Telling tall tales can wait, Pecostian,” Verton was saying. “Everyone, check your sensor boards. Key for section two-two-eight, mark fifteen. See what I’m seeing?”
William tapped his sensor board for the specified area, staring at the screen in growing disbelief and sudden apprehension. “That’s a gravity well, Verton,” he said.
“Good eye, Pecostian,” Verton responded, “but we need to confirm that before we jump to either Dodger or hasty conclusions. Sending a scout, now.”
“It can’t be a gravity well,” one of the other wranglers was saying as William caught sight of Verton’s ‘scout’, a specialized drone with outsized thrusters and a pair of antennae, whizzing across the void in his viewport. “There’s nothing in this part of the system with that much mass; the junction wouldn’t have settled here, if that were the case.”
“That’s what’s worrying me,” Verton growled. William watched the scout zip through the empty space until his eyes could no longer track it and glanced at the sensor board.
Once it reached section two-two-eight, mark fifteen, the scout sent an update to the wranglers’ ships with the words ‘Unstable Singularity’ flashing on their screens. Mere seconds later, the pinpoint of light that marked the scout began moving across the sensor board at impossible speeds in a tight circle.
The circle began edging across the section, towards the herd, and winked out of existence as it crossed the grid line.
William stared at the sensor board, his shoulders tightening with renewed tension. He had seen that signal title before…
“That tears it,” Verton said in a bleak voice. William spotted the Durnlop’s ship, Crestwater, as he kicked it into motion and flared all four engine nacelles. “Beings, there’s something stirring in the void. Best if we get our herd out of the wilds and over Dodger before it gets interested in us. Everyone, make ready for your jump and get your cattle in line.”
The communication circuit gave a chorus of acknowledgements while William keyed for a full deployment of his hitches. As the devices swarmed underneath Widowmaker, William tasked them with lining his herd and reached back over his right shoulder. There was a switch there that he himself had installed, setting the jump system for ‘automate’ and eyeing the readout between the yokes.
The readout was showing the queries being sent to the junction, an oblong piece of tech that marked the entrance to ‘otherspace’ that exited in orbit over Dodger. William noted that the queries were being sorted by proximity and broadcast strength, grimacing. That would put Widowmaker as second to last in the queue.
“Think you can give a bit more gumption, Widowmaker?” William asked, pulling his seat restraints down and tightening them. “The faster you move, the better odds of a fat purse. You want only the best in your feedbag, don’t you?”
In answer, Widowmaker shuddered slightly as more power coursed from the core and into the jump engine, and William watched the readout’s queue slowly change.
All the while, the anomaly on the sensor board was lazily wandering closer to the herd…
“Jump when you’re clear, wranglers!” Verton exclaimed, and William could hear the frustration and fear in his voice, clear through the circuit’s static. “That’s a twister!”
William looked frantically back and forth between the sensor board and his viewport, hoping to catch sight of the space anomaly before it drew too close. Already, his hitches were sending distress signals to the hitch-board. A group of the devices on the far side of the herd from William were struggling to keep a bull from being pulled away, and their status icons were flashing from green to yellow in their warning.
“Well,” William muttered, left hand reaching down to send instructions on the hitch board while steadying Widowmaker with his right, “aren’t we all being put in the bad birdbox.”
The utterance was loud enough to be picked up by the communication circuit, and there was a long moment of silence from the speaker as everyone considered the phrase.
“The what?” Phinex finally asked.
“Human idiom,” William said, sighing. “Forget it.”
Swift's Corner 