Raymond Price's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

The fuel gauge fell too fast. Price watched the number drop with every burst of plasma. Forty minutes had shrunk to thirty. Each flare of light lit the rocks, then died, and he had to fire again. He was burning his way out faster than the nebula would let him cross. He needed to stretch the fuel or the ship would stall dead among the stones. Commander April Reid crossed to his chair. His executive officer moved fast, dark hair swinging, eyes fixed on the falling gauge. She never softened bad news. "We're bleeding plasma, Captain. Full bursts every few seconds. At this rate we die in the dark long before the far side." "I know the math," Price said. "Give me an answer, not the count." Reid leaned over the science panel. "The gas holds its glow. Watch. When we vent, the cloud stays lit for four, maybe five seconds after the plasma stops." She pointed at the screen. The path ahead still shone faintly, though no jet was firing. "We don't need a steady stream. We need short pulses." Behind them, Counselor Ophelia Clark spoke. Price had not called for the ship's counselor, but she stood near the door, blonde and calm while the crew sweated. "The crew can see the rocks now," she said. "They trust their eyes more than the gauge. Let them steer between the pulses, sir. Fear makes people fire too much." Price looked at her. She was right. His own hand had reached for the plasma control twice out of nerves. "Cut the burn," he ordered. "Short pulses only. One flash, then coast. Steer by the light while it lasts." Reid set the timing. A single jet sprayed forward, then stopped. The cloud flared bright. Rocks showed as dark shapes. The ship glided through the lit path on momentum, engines quiet, drinking no fuel. "Come left," Price said, reading the shadows. "Now down. Hold." The hull slid between two great stones. The glow faded. "Pulse." Another flash. Another clear stretch. The gauge slowed its fall. Reid watched the number and let out a breath. "Burn rate down by half, sir. Maybe more." Clark smiled at the crew. Shoulders dropped across the bridge. Hands stopped shaking. Price checked the gauge. Thirty minutes now bought them an hour of travel. The fuel would stretch. They would not stall. Then Reid's face changed. She tapped the panel hard. "Captain. The pulses. Each flash pushes gas outward, but it comes back. There's a wall ahead." She pointed. In the last flare, far off, the rocks packed tight, no gap between them. "That's not a field. That's a barrier. The pulse light won't reach past it, and it runs wider than I can see." Price stared at the solid line of stone. He had saved his fuel. He had bought the time. And the time led straight into a wall the plasma could not open.