Niko opened the door to the FTL maintenance room and was immediatley hit by a wall of hot, humid air. I must not be sleeping enough he thought, moving to the instrument read-out, the taste of coolant bitter in his mouth.
“Eleven hundred Kelvin on the temporal probability circuit,” he muttered to himself, “but that’s the same…”
Niko’s stomach sank. This will be a fun couple of hours. Seconds? Whatever. Temporal probability drives were the worst. He braced for what he knew was coming, just as his vision went white.
Niko opened the door.
About the Creator
Claire Jones
On a journey to find the right words.
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