Each Sunday, Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from writers in multiple genres and forms. Check out the full roster here.
Yasmin didn’t like to think of herself as naive, but the glories of the universe included black holes at the heart of galaxies, exploding stars, and the wreckage of unlucky planets. On the other side of the hull (she patted the wall experimentally, still seeing with the faint overlay of Ship’s eyes that she touched an internal partition with Crew’s passages and a layer of safety compartments) lethal Void surrounded them on all sides.
Even traversing the Jump, there was a nonzero risk of transit failure.
That’s what they called it, bloodlessly. “Transit failure.”
Nobody knew what it was like, because nobody had ever returned from it.
Yasmin took a deep breath, let it out, let the Ship’s presence swim through her. Yes, she could feel the pulsing signals, the edge of the vast intelligences that threaded through the Ship, the Captains’ shadows, the musical branching in shades of blue and green and yellow, gently rolling through the spectrum, that must be the Ship’s Heart, the great pulse that kept them all going.
Yasmin Sure-Hand en route to the Academy. From work in progress, Ship’s Heart (NaNo 2015).