
Chasing Dragons
Gwen is a jumper, able to move spaceships through giant wyrmholes left in space. Her captain is obsessed with finding a space wyrm. But jumping is hard work and Gwen’s captain pushes her to the brink.
Pulling the space ship through a wyrmhole always felt to Gwen like falling feet first into an ocean. First she dipped her fingers into the water of a new star system, swirled them around a bit to test the temperature, and when she had a good feeling about it, she jumped. Space warped inside out to accommodate her, the practical physics trying their best to resolve a divide-by-zero, and in the span of a breath, Gwen pulled a new ocean of stars up over her head.
”They’re not here, dammit. Go again. Now!” Captain Griffith struck his hand on the forward console. Several screens flickered. He stood facing away from Gwen, his attention fixed on the external cameras. Tension coiled in his neck and hunched his shoulders. He’d been standing or pacing for Gwen’s entire six-hour shift, demanding she jump them through system after system.
Gwen took a breath and blew it out roughly. She closed her eyes to focus on the water of space around her rather than the radiating anger from her captain. Gwen dragged her mental fingers across the surface of the ocean, seeking an anomaly. Humanity wasn’t the only thing out here, and the bigger things left traces of themselves behind.
There! Gwen’s mental touch found another fault in space. This one bigger, more stable than the previous. That meant it was fresh. The creature who had torn through reality here did so recently. Gwen couldn’t create these tears that connected one spot to another, but she could discover them with a little effort. Gwen dipped her fingers into the the water on the other side, found a good grip, and dropped herself—and the ship—through the hole.
That was the trick, wasn’t it, bringing the ship, and all of its crew, with her. Gwen had discovered her ability to travel the wyrmholes in the usual way: she teleported herself down a hallway, or across the mess hall, folding space and time to a single point that she could step through with natural confidence. It took years of careful training to bring someone with her, and even more advanced practice to carry an entire ship.
Each jump through space splashed over her head, a wave of disorientation, a chill, the urge to hold her breath until she surfaced a powerful one. And each jump left something of herself behind, just as the creatures who traveled before her left the holes torn in space.
Gwen’s knees buckled. She put her hand on the hull but exhaustion dragged her to the floor. Six hours of jumping had leached the strength from her muscles and stolen the breath from her lungs.
”Go again,” Griffith demanded. ”They were just here. We’re catching up.”
The engineer—Charlie—stood from her chair. ”Captain, she needs to rest.”
”We’ll rest when we’ve caught them.” He turned to pin his single artificial eye on Gwen, the lens turning as it zoomed closer. ”Go again.”
Gwen let her head fall to the cold floor and leaned heavily against the hull wall. With another breath she reached into the ocean.
”You’re pushing too hard. This is dangerous,” Charlie said.
”You were informed of the risks. So was she.”
Gwen heard the argument at a distance, garbled under the waves. It was easy to dismiss when the cold ocean of space demanded so much attention. Gwen tried to keep herself near the surface of the water—it was easier to pull back that way—but she was too tired to hold herself up. Rather than search the surface for the next tear, she fell into the depths.
It was darker here. Quiet. Cold, but peaceful. Small lights gave her some perspective of huge distance expanding around her. Gwen thought she could sleep here.
Someone slapped her face.
Gwen choked and surfaced inside the space ship. It was bright, cold, and very loud. Charlie was holding her up by the shoulders, eyes wide. She was yelling but Gwen’s ears were full of water and everything filtered slowly. Charlie shook her, which made Gwen wince. Her head ached and her stomach rolled over. She tilted to the side and vomited bile. A bubble popped and everything snapped into chaotic clarity.
”Captain, she’s awake but something is wrong!”
Charlie helped hold Gwen up as her stomach revolted. Every muscle shook involuntarily. Her knees and elbows ached deeply. Her hips and shoulders, too. She was too cold, but Gwen couldn’t seem to make her tongue coöperate. She just drooled.
”Hang on, little bird, I’ve got you,” Charlie said softly. ”Just hang on.”
Charlie hoisted her up with a jerk and Gwen moaned. Pain radiated from every joint. The ship’s main hallway flashed by too quickly for her to focus, then suddenly she was being put down on her side in a bed fixed to the wall. Nausea rose up to meet her.
Gwen dry-heaved while Charlie rubbed her back.
She was so tired. When the ship rumbled—her rear thrusters bursting to life for the first time in months—the vibration soothed Gwen’s eyes closed. She could almost see the ship cutting through the waves of space, turning toward this system’s station around a local moon. Charlie covered her with a blanket that wasn’t quite like the dark depths, but it was close enough. Gwen slept.
–\\–
”There’s a little bird sent to Earth on the wind, a little bird meant to fly, a little bird we sent to die. There’s a little bird I found asleep on the wind, a little bird who ought to sing, a little bird.”
Gwen grunted when she woke. Charlie’s soft voice sang in her memory, but the woman wasn’t here now. Gwen recognized the angles of Charlie’s berth once she sat upright and her foot knocked an empty bucket at the bedside. She remembered losing her stomach on the bridge. Her hips still ached, deeply, and Gwen swiped one hand down her face.
Jumping sickness. The signs were obvious now that her head was back on her shoulders. The cold, her vision of space, all the aches, the nausea. Gwen had pushed too hard for too long. She should have spoken up when Charlie protested, but fighting with the captain would certainly cost Gwen her job.
She needed this job. And not just to keep the school payments off her back. After six years of study and another two out on her own, she couldn’t go back to her snide, self-important parents. The I‑told-you-so’s alone would plunge Gwen back into the depression she’d spent so long clawing her way out of. She’d come so far without their help, she could make it the rest of the way.
Gwen wanted to find a stable colony somewhere. Maybe settle on a station and start her own trade route if she could pick up a little-used ship. But first she needed the money, and Captain Griffith seemed to be on the edge of firing her lately. It left Gwen unsettled.
She lurched to her feet, bracing on the wall, and splashed water on her face. The pump chugged deep inside the ship, rattling in a way that told Gwen they were docked somewhere and hooked up for power and sewage. It would be good to get off the ship for a bit, breathe some air processed through different filters.
After a change and running fingers through her hair, Gwen stepped off the Heron and onto Iris Station. She was four stories long in the shape of an inverted cone. Ships docked on the upper ring while merchants and supply crowded the second. Gwen purchased a piece of dehydrated soy protein to chew on while she explored.
The third level appeared to be residential, while the fourth housed administration, neither of which were of interest. Instead, Gwen wandered the shops.
Charlie found her peering at the curious form of a gourd—carved for practical use as a pitcher, but outrageously expensive thanks to the water it took to grow.
”You’re awake! How are you feeling?” Charlie grabbed Gwen’s shoulder and squeezed.
Gwen winced but gave Charlie a bit of a smile. ”Better, thank you. I’m sorry I took your bed.”
”Nonsense. I put you there. Did you sleep ok? You were out through breakfast.”
The mention of food turned Gwen’s stomach, but she nodded. ”I dreamed about you singing to me.”
Charlie grinned. ”That wasn’t a dream.” She hooked her arm through Gwen’s and turned her away from the boutique shop. ”Anyway, I’m glad you’re up, there’s something I want to show you. Everyone here is in a tizzy since the wyrmhole was just refreshed. We’re lucky we came in when we did. There’s already a waiting list to dock.”
They headed straight for a knot of people gathered near the spine of the station, a central space for meeting and the primary way to move from ring to ring. But rather than head for the lifts, Charlie guided Gwen to a glowing display board set into the wall. Updated text flashed across the screen every few minutes, pushing older entries off the list.
”Charlie, I’ve already got a job…”
Charlie gave her a flat look. ”I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your job has gotten you sick three times this last month.”
Gwen nodded. ”Griffith pushes hard.”
”You mean Griffith is a bit of a dick.” Charlie rolled her eyes.
Gwen snorted.
Charlie nudged her forward with her shoulder. ”Just glance through. It’s good to have options, right?”
”I suppose.” She would humor the engineer since there was no harm in it, but Gwen knew this was some kind of phase for Griffith. When he’d hired her on two years ago, before Charlie had joined the team, he’d been a different man. Calmer. Their routes were long, but not unusual, and Gwen had grown a lot at Griffith’s side. When it came to trading deals, the captain was in his element. He’d forgotten more than Gwen would ever learn.
The two of them had made an excellent team. Gwen was young and eager to prove herself. Griffith had a penchant for taking the risky bets and spinning them into his favor. They had been flush when Charlie first came aboard.
Gwen wasn’t sure what changed. Griffith had never run from a bad deal since Gwen had known him—he knew how to take his knocks and give what he got—but six months ago he had pointed Gwen to a wyrmhole so fresh it still glowed in real-space and they had been chasing dragons ever since.
Space whales. Spirits. Monsters as long as a planetary orbit, as big around as a gas giant, with wings like gossamer, and eyes that burned so hot they ignited new stars.
They passed through most matter without interacting. Their bodies thinned out at the edges until they were translucent and they were the ones who dove into the ocean of space and left holes behind. Wyrmholes.
Six months ago, Captain Griffith demanded Gwen catch up to a migrating dragon. When she did so it never appeared to notice them. It simply curled itself around the local sun for a standard hour, then slipped away again through space.
Gwen was the first to admit it had been awesome, but Griffith couldn’t let it go.
Perhaps Charlie was right. It was time to consider another ship. There were plenty looking to hire an experienced jumper like Gwen.
She began to scan the listings in ernest, picking out the details of ships incoming and the rates they were willing to pay. None of them were close to what Griffith was paying her now. She frowned.
”Charlie, do you know if these are standard rates?”
”A little higher, actually. Since the wyrmhole was just refreshed.”
”Huh.”
”Something wrong?” Charlie crossed her arms.
”No. Just that Griffith pays me more.” Gwen turned away from the board and brought Charlie with her.
Charlie craned her neck to see the last few listings as they updated. ”Probably because he knows he’s a jerk,” she groused.
Gwen liked to think it was because Griffith recognized her skill and was willing to pay her well for it. But in light of Charlie’s complaints, perhaps he had other motivations.
They returned to the Heron arm-in-arm and as soon as they stepped foot inside, Griffith called Gwen to the bridge. She found him leaning on the forward console, watching the external cameras.
”I saw you at the job board,” he said, full of accusation.
”Just checking the market.” Gwen shrugged. She didn’t want to pin the blame on Charlie.
”I would appreciate it if you didn’t linger there. I don’t want someone thinking you’re available.” Griffith stabbed his thumb on a display screen, clearing a contract of some kind. ”I pay you enough to disregard the market.”
”Yes, sir.” Gwen wasn’t sure what else to say. Griffith had never tried to restrict her like this before. But he was right, the pay was better-enough that she was willing to continue with him. For now.
”Since you’re up and walking be ready to leave in twenty minutes.”
Gwen offered another affirmative but Griffith didn’t turn or address her again. She stepped away somewhat concerned. Gwen couldn’t help but let Charlie’s complaints color her view of the captain now. Perhaps this wasn’t a phase? What had changed him?
–\\–
They’d done it.
Gwen had pulled a new blanket of stars overhead, dragging the ship into a new and uncharted star system two weeks beyond the edge of colonized space. Griffith’s temper was short, and his ability to reason frayed under the pressure. He’d pushed Gwen to the edge of jump sickness, but even Charlie could see the challenge had only made her a stronger pilot.
And they had finally done it. The exterior cameras captured them in grainy low resolution until Charlie could deploy the satellite receiver. Then the ship’s computer could overlay images from infrared, ultraviolet, x ray, and gamma. The composite bloomed in high fidelity, a rainbow of false-color.
Dragons. There were three. Gwen sat heavily in a nearby chair to stare at them slack-jawed. The smallest curled around this system’s cooling, red-giant star, its gossamer tail trailing like a banner through an asteroid belt. It passed back and forth over the rocks like a ghost, unable to affect them.
The two others were much larger and they danced through the space between planets. Their long bodies rippled in changing false-color. Their eyes glowed brighter than the sun, and their bodies… Gwen could see right through them.
Magnificent. Beautiful. Utterly alien. And now that the crew was here, Gwen wondered why she’d been reluctant to chase these fascinating creatures. What were they doing out here? How did they travel from system to system? What did they eat? Was this a family group?
Gwen wanted to call the larger two mom and dad, while the smaller was their child. But then, did dragons even have binary sexes? Did they express sexes at all? What if this was a territory dispute? Or perhaps a negotiation.
Did they have language?
”Oh my god,” Charlie whispered, her voice loud in the silence of the bridge. ”Please tell me we’re recording this.”
”Not just video,” Griffith said. He toggled a setting on his vidscreen and threw a digital file to Charlie’s station. ”Send that out on every wavelength we can. Ultrasonic, xrays, visual light—everything.”
”What is it?” Gwen gripped the armrests of her seat. ”Are you going to make contact?”
Charlie frowned at her terminal as she worked. ”It’s a song,” she said. ”It’s going out now.” She turned back to the cameras as the first strains of something electronic and lilting played over the ship’s speakers.
The dragons reacted instantly. If it was the light, the x rays, or something else, Gwen didn’t know, but the larger pair broke apart and one flew toward the sun—and the small dragon—while the other spiraled directly for the ship.
It grew larger on screen, and the closer it came the faster Gwen’s heart raced. She could make out finer detail as it approached—fur-like structures across its muzzle, a pair of long whisker-tendrils that trailed behind, and a gaping mouth full of a hundred thousand sharp teeth.
”Uh… boss?” Charlie fidgeted. ”We just going to let it ram us?”
”They don’t interact with matter,” Griffith said.
”We can’t out-fly it,” Gwen added. ”It’s so fast…”
Then suddenly, the dragon veered sharply downward and a new sound joined the song. A complement. Almost like… singing?
”My god,” Griffith gasped. ”Like whales. They have language.”
”We’re recording?” Gwen asked.
”Yes, yes, everything!”
In a rush, the dragon erupted through the bottom of the ship and burst out the top. The singing intensified through the entire ship, as if the metal were a bell being struck with a hammer. It engulfed the forward section of the bridge—computer, chair, and Captain Griffith—entirely. Charlie fell back out of her station and scrambled away from the creature with a yelp. It’s body segment flowed through the ship for eternity, long enough for Charlie to grab Gwen by the shoulder and drag her further back. Within the dragon, ice seemed to form on the ship’s console and around Griffith’s edges. He turned slowly to face Gwen, and stretched one hand toward her, palm up, just as the dragon’s tail whipped through the room.
Then it was gone. And Griffith toppled slowly forward, his eyes stuck open, his mouth agape, his hand beaconing. The captain crashed to the deck, frozen into a solid block.
”Jump us out of here, Gwen. Now. Jump back out.” Charlie’s fingers dug into Gwen’s shoulder to punctuate her demand.
Gwen dove backward in space. The watery stars splashed all around her, a confusion of light. The singing abruptly cut short, but the music continued—suddenly alone and somehow lesser—through the ship speakers.
Charlie inched over to her station to slap at the screen and shut down the sound, only to scuttle back to Gwen in the looming quiet. For a long time, the only sound was that of their breath and the erratic, confused beat of Gwen’s heart.
–\\–
Almost a week later, Gwen carefully navigated the ship into port at Lotus Station ThirtyFour, a small space station in an edge-system that circled a jovian-type planet around a small blue sun. All Lotus stations were the same: perfectly clean, directed by a semi-autonomous AI, and the best place to conduct business in a universe linked through wyrmholes. Each Lotus was built in a system with a safe and stable wyrmhole present, ensuring trade, tourism, and economic growth for generations.
Gwen was here to drop off the body of Captain Griffith to the appropriate authority that could notify next of kin and execute his Will, if he had one. She’d been sorting through his things in the bunk for days, now, boxing clothing and old magazines into keep, toss, and donate piles.
As the ship made connection with Lotus, Charlie came up the hallway to the bridge. She nudged the plain, regulation casket holding Griffith’s body ahead of her, allowing the box’s antigravity to do most of the work. She nodded to Gwen on her way out, which left the pilot with an empty ship and one very cluttered bunk to keep sorting.
She spent another three hours elbow-deep in Griffith’s belongings when she found the tablet. It was half-buried in the side-table’s shallow drawer, covered in job paperwork and hidden by folders. There was no password protecting the contents, and Gwen spotted an icon in the corner indicating a waiting message. She tapped it. A video began to play.
”Grandpapa, I know you’re out looking, but I can’t wait to hear back. I know you’ll find them and play my songs. Mom says you’re probably on another job and I should be patient but I’m too excited.”
A teenager filled the screen, her hair a puff of curls behind her. She wore a graphic t‑shirt stylized with space dragons and she was clearly recording from the comfort of her bed. A band poster Gwen didn’t recognize had been tacked to the wall over her shoulder. Most notably, the girl’s big blue eyes were hazy and focused off-center. She was blind.
”That song I sent you still doesn’t have a name. I want to call it something like: Visions or: Perspective but I’m not sure yet. Those don’t feel right. Anyway, you’ve got to record the dragons for me when you play it. I know they’ll say something back. Mom always says music is a way for people to communicate across languages, and I’ve heard parrots like, dance to the beat and—”
Gwen stopped the video. She found an entire archive of messages from Griffith’s granddaughter going back years, and looked into clips of them. It was only the last couple of messages spanning about a year that talked about dragons.
This had to be the reason Griffith’s attention had shifted. He’d become consumed with catching a glimpse of the dragons, not for himself, but for his granddaughter.
At the bridge, Gwen found the video and audio files Griffith had recorded that day and passed them to the tablet. She sat in the pilot chair, checked the camera positioning, and recorded a short message.
”My name is Gwen, and I worked for your grandfather as his jumper. A week ago we caught up to the dragons and he played your song. They sang back.” Gwen tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure that it reached her eyes. ”I’ve attached the video and audio we gathered and I hope you find them exciting… but I’m sorry that they come with sad news.”
Gwen took a deep breath and powered forward. ”Captain Griffith died last week while chasing dragons. When we played the music, one of them headed for our ship and passed through it. Griffith was caught inside, and was frozen within seconds. Don’t blame the dragons—”she was quick to add”—they didn’t do anything out of malice. I don’t think they even realize what happened. They just… wanted to sing.”
Gwen stopped recording after a second, having run out of words. She sent the video with its attachments before she could second guess herself.
Some immeasurable time later, Gwen was still seated in the pilot’s chair when Charlie returned. ”No trouble with the paperwork?”
”Nah, and I found a nice place to eat if you want to catch dinner. I’m starving.”
Gwen hadn’t been hungry in days, but she knew she needed to eat so she nodded her agreement. Before she could stand, the tablet in her lap chimed with a message. It was Griffith’s granddaughter.
”Hi Gwen, I’m Caroline. I talked to mom about Grandpa Griffith and I think she just got the notification because she was really upset. I guess it hasn’t really sunk in for me yet. I never met him in person, just chats.”
Caroline picked at her t‑shirt, another dragon-themed design, and sighed heavily, tilting the view. ”I donno. I’m supposed to be sad, right? But I listened to the files you sent and I’m so excited to hear the dragons singing! And I can’t even share that with mom right now, so I don’t know who else to talk to? This is awesome! They actually responded to my music! And they harmonized with it!”
The screen shifted view again as Caroline hopped across her room to a desk. ”I don’t know if you know much about music, but harmonising is some really advanced stuff. Anyway, I’m already composing another piece and I’ll send it over to you as soon as it’s ready. I hope you’ll get a chance to play it for them soon!”
Caroline blew a blind kiss to the video screen and the message ended.
”Who was that?” Charlie asked, peering over Gwen’s shoulder.
”Griffith’s granddaughter.”
”Huh. I didn’t know he had family.”
”Neither did I. I found the tablet going through his things and there was a message from her pending, so I replied.” Gwen looked up at Charlie. ”It’ll take me another few days to go through Griffith’s things, but I think, after that’s sorted, I’m going to catch the dragons again. I’m a stronger jumper now. It shouldn’t take as long.”
”And what are you going to do when you get them? It passed right through the ship and killed Griffith without even trying.”
”I don’t know yet, maybe just watch them. Study them. There are so many questions and no one out there has any answers. At least Caroline is trying to… to… communicate.” Gwen made a rough gesture.
”Ok. I think you’ve been stuck in this boat for too long.” Charlie took the tablet and set it aside. ”Come to dinner and we’ll talk about it. You need to think about your future, too, you know.”
”What if I’m the first person to communicate with them, Charlie? Think about it. If we could figure out how they make wyrmholes, maybe we could make our own. Who knows what they could teach us about time and space and… and… music!”
”Ok, ok, but dinner first. If you’re going to run around the galaxy you need food.” Charlie dragged Gwen by the wrist toward the hallway.
Gwen gasped. ”Charlie what about invisibility?”
”They’re not invisible.”
”They might as well be! Oh! And passing through matter? What if we could just… phase out on demand?” The ideas were coming fast and hard, now. There were so many things the dragons knew how to do just on instinct. What could they teach her if she could find a way to talk to them? Gwen detoured into her bunk to grab her own tablet for note taking.
She would go to dinner with Charlie, but there were questions to answer… and dragons to chase.
–//–
This story is available from May 5th — 13th. If you’d like to be notified of free fiction when it goes live, please join the newsletter! You can buy your own copy on my webstore, or your favorite ebook store. Special thanks to my Patrons who made this short story possible.
This story was available from May 5th — 13th. If you’d like to be notified of free fiction when it goes live, please join the newsletter! You can buy your own copy on my webstore, or your favorite ebook store. Special thanks to my Patrons who made this short story possible.
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