Ficly

Route to Nowhere

A request. After the rather hostile takeover of our shipboard systems and my own mind, a request from the overseer for instructions seemed almost laughable. I swiveled my chair and let my fingers do what came most naturally to them.

“What’s he doing?” someone asked. I didn’t hear the response.

My fingers flew, and fresh routing code sprang into existence. I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn’t slow. Around me the ship shuddered, indicating that we were underway once more.

“Stations, people,” Harrigan said quietly. He sounded tense.

The pilots tried handing me data twice, probably so they could feel like they were doing something. I waved them off both times. After that they gave up. I continued typing.

“Horizon coming up!” one of the pilots called back.

“Extending vector array!” came the other.

“Code ready,” I replied. “Position three-one-two-alpha-six.”

“No way, carto. That’s—”

“Just do it!”

A pause.

“Three-one-two-alpha-six. Mark.”

I injected the code, and space folded around us.

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