I confidently exited my bedroom. Despite being transported to a strange futuristic universe, it so closely resembled my own room in Life Among the Stars that I automatically thought of it as mine.

  Hand resting on my gun, I strolled back to the foyer. Once there, though, the weight of memories, the dim light, the deep shadows, and the oppressive silence chilled me.

  All that confidence and bravado? Gone in barely 20 meters. Nice one Nico.

  I shifted my weight nervously before deciding the next priority would be the maintenance bay. I needed to have power back. Power means light, and light is good.

  The maintenance bay was downstairs. There was an elevator but, of course, it was not working.

  I practically ran down the stairs and reached the huge hall. On one side was the storage section, on the other side was access to the main reactor, life support, and other systems needed for the base to operate. And at the end, a huge freight elevator to the hangar.

  Looking at it, my mind went to my ship, the Mahkkra. This ship was my most precious possession. It defined me in the game. I wanted to go there immediately, to check if it was there, waiting for me. But I forced myself to stay put. Not yet. I need the station to be operational. Even if the ship is there, without power, I won’t be able to do anything with it.

  So I paused and surveyed my surroundings.

  The storage was impressive. This section was actually new to me. The game version of Hyperion Deep abstracted storage with just a door that brought an interface to select stored items from a menu.

  Here, I could not see the end of the room. Shelves, three stories high, as far as the eye could see. How far did the builders of this station have to dig in the asteroid to make it fit ? That’s amazing. I am living a dream here. I just hope the Mahkkra is there and I won’t wake up before flying it. This is the nicest dream ever.

  I made my way to the main reactor, and, unsurprisingly, it was in maintenance mode, outputting just enough for basic life support and minimal maintenance.

  It was a majestic thing. Housed in a column of transparent material, it looked like two pillars of light, slowly rotating, with a dark space between them, barely two centimeters wide. This black zone was unnerving, like looking at something that should not exist and certainly should never be seen. Of course, I stared at it, reveling in the otherworldliness of it all.

  The technology was called Dimensional Energy Manipulation Core. No idea how it worked. I always assumed it was just techno-blah-bla, but apparently, here, it is reality. Yeah, this must be a dream. That’s science-fantasy, not science fiction.

  I went to the console. To my delight, it was not dead. The display looked simple enough. I increased the reactor’s output up to station optimal requirement level. And… nothing happened. The digital level just slid down to the minimal output level.

  Darn, I should have known. Too easy. This is just like in the game. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a mini-game to repair the reactor.

  I looked for clues on what to do, but nothing. No hovering question mark, no blinking light. No clue.

  I sat next to the main console of the reactor core and started talking to the machine. "You know, I was really starting to think I was in a dream mimicking the game. But now, I don't know..." I put my hands on my face. The machine did not respond, but my holobracer reflected the light of the reactor and I got an idea.

  Its batteries were dead, but I was fairly certain there were spares in storage. This thing had a scanner, schematics. I mean, that was how we got quests in the game. This is a crazy plan. But hey, if I am dreaming, it might as well work.

  Locating the spare batteries took some time. I grumbled that the manufacturers' need to create different sizes and shapes to prevent interoperability and annoy users was apparently universal. I may have even thrown some choice words at different company names. Extensively. But I finally found the right one and got the thing working.

  The interface was instinctive. Or rather, it was attuned to my thoughts. That strange feeling of something disconnecting at the base of my neck when I first woke up, that was my neural interface. My character had one, but I had never paid it much attention. But when I turned the bracer on, I felt a small warmth on my neck and suddenly, I saw what could only be described as a HUD.

  It did not have a minimap, but it highlighted what I was looking at and, on a thought, displayed information on it. It was amazing, but also distracting. I bumped into several shelves because a description panel suddenly blocked my whole field of vision. Something I really needed to get used to. Another one of those gameplay mechanics that we all loved and accepted but were not so great in real life.

  Of course, there was a mini-game. Some of the power relays were broken and I had to replace them. In a way, having my HUD help me identify the needed spare parts, tracking my progress and telling me exactly how to operate the tools, how to remove the broken parts and set up the new ones felt very familiar. I had done countless quests requiring those exact movements in the game. It felt good, like putting on familiar shoes, which greatly helped calm my anxiety.

  I'm really torn between this being a very realistic dream and actually being transported to a parallel world. I hope it’s a parallel world. Please make it a parallel world. Going back to my boring mundane life and a watered down version of this through the game would be crushing. I think that, maybe, I hope I can live here for real.

  Finally, all was fixed and the reactor was now operating at full capacity. The change was impressive. Immediately, all the lights blazed to life. I was no longer surrounded by shadows. I could see everything, every detail. But most impressive was the robot swarm. Small robots emerged hidden hatches everywhere and immediately started cleaning, repairing, assessing.

  I admired the complex choreography. I ran back to the foyer and, to my delight, it was completely illuminated. What I saw finally matched my memories of this place. It lifted my spirits. The small robots cleaning every surface also made me smile.

  They looked like floating eggs, with beams of light making the grime and neglect disappear, while small caterpillar-like drones were touching every screen, every connector, likely checking their state. I even saw one extracting a battery and sliding a new one in a socket on one of the low tables. I wanted to admire it more, and, maybe, to toy with them. How would the cleaners react if I pushed one?

  But I had more pressing matters. The power was on, the hangar bay was now accessible and there, I was sure, the Mahkkra was waiting for me.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  — o 0 o —

  "Wow. Just wow," I exclaimed in awe.

  I was right, the Mahkkra was waiting for me in the hangar bay. There were two other ships there. Both were parts of my fleet. First was the Kaeru, a small reconnaissance ship. All speed and stealth, no weapon, no armor, but amazing sensors. Next to it, the Rochefort was a big cargo hauler. It looked deceptively unassuming and beaten down, but that was just an act. It was solid, powerful and heavily armored. Slow and steady. I loved to use it to transport loot without drawing too much attention.

  But the star of the show was the Mahkkra. It was huge, making me feel like an insect as I closed the distance. It started with something like a dolphin's head. The main body was thick with short stubby wings shaped like those of a manta ray, ending with a wide circular opening.No apparent weapons. Sleek. Predatory.

  I acquired it during the same quest where I got the Starburst, my trusted plasma gun. It had been a challenge. Weeks of preparation, of cross referencing clues, running scouting operations and assaulting hidden fortresses. In Life Among the Stars, the lore was of a hidden society of human supremacists, backed by a cabal of billionaires who were stealing military technologies and setting up hidden research stations. The Mahkkra was their ultimate weapon. A revolutionary prototype, with a revolutionary dual propulsion system that gave it incredible speed and unmatched maneuverability. It also had some completely overpowered experimental weapon systems. And I stole it.

  The whole guild had to help me. We all got some nice tech and rewards out of it, but I got the lion’s share. After that, I owned so many favors I spent almost two years only helping others, never playing for myself. So worth it. And I have to admit, I like helping them.

  Looking at it, I felt like I was finally reconnecting with a part of me I did not know I was missing.

  In a trance-like state, I entered the ship, and made my way directly to the cockpit, sliding into the pilot’s chair.

  My chair, my home. My whole body relaxed as I took in the view. With a flick of a finger, I activated the consoles and watched the world around me come to life.

  Engines: ready

  Fuel reserves: full

  Weapons loadout: heavy lasers: optimal. Riftlance: optimal. Torpedo tube: empty.

  I pumped my fist as a gesture of victory. It's ready to fly. And if even has the Riftlance as the nose weapon. Wow. I can't wait to see it in action. The real name of the weapon was Trans-Dimensional Rift Beam Emitter. But we called it riftlance. This thing punched a hole in the fabric of the universe and shaped it as a beam of inter-dimensional shear. It had very short range, but nothing could withstand it. Neither shielding nor plating would protect my enemies.I was overjoyed. The Mahkkra had limited hard points for weapons so I had to decide which weapons to set up. The riftlance was definitely the one I was the most eager to test.The smile on my face was almost painful as I set the chair in operational position, my head finding its resting place while a probe extended and clicked into my neural port.

  Suddenly, I was the ship. Every system was like a new limb. My joy was short-lived. The influx of information was too much. I felt pain like I had never felt before. I willed it to stop and, suddenly, there was quiet. The chorus of systems disappeared, the headache receded, and I realized the ship’s Virtual Intelligence was smart enough to understand my needs. I could still access all systems, but instead of all of them yelling for my attention, they only manifested when prompted.

  I put my hand on the side of the cockpit and gently caressed it. “Thank you. You’re the best.”I checked the navigation and froze. Empty database. No star charts. Nothing. I did not know where I was. Or when I was for that matter. It was like the ship was fresh out of the factory. Or it had been completely scrubbed.

  Okay. Not ideal. But still. I can fly the Mahkkra. Let’s not let a mystery overshadow this fact. I CAN FLY THE MAHKKRA!

  I started the engines. I could feel a hum around me, a low vibration coming from the core. “We flew in virtual reality for so long. Time to do it for real. Show me what you really are.”

  With every system online, I triggered the opening of the hangar doors and prepared to take the Mahkkra out.

  The ship, being completely experimental, lacked many automated systems. Flying it required constant manual adjustments. It allowed truly impossible maneuvers, but required skill and practice. While systems control was done through the neural port, maneuvering and shooting was done using hands and feet.

  Despite my years of virtual practice, I was not ready for the real thing. As I added more power to the main propulsion system, I lost the calibration on the secondary system. The ship jerked upward, hit the ceiling in a loud bang that made me wince, and started to rotate sideways.

  "Sorry, sorry," I yelled, slightly panicking.

  With a thought, I activated the autopilot. The ship immediately corrected and smoothly exited, while I received a prompt through the communication systems:

  Leaving Hyperion Deep.

  Engaging Defensive Mode?

  I acknowledged the request and, suddenly, with a slight shimmer, the base disappeared. My mouth fell. From outside, where the base should have been, I could only see big rocks.

  Nice. The Chameleon Array really works. I never thought it would look this real.

  — o 0 o —

  The ship floated in space. Seemingly immobile, suspended in the void. And I was in the pilot’s chair. How incredible.

  I disengaged the autopilot, disabled the secondary propulsion systems, and set the main propulsion to minimum output. Then, I set out to learn to pilot this beast. I was thankful I set all systems to their lowest settings. The Mahakra was an untamed beast. Any lapse in focus and I went tumbling around, out of control.

  The main propulsion was a Quillon Drive. The main concept was a standard plasma reactor. Propellant went in, got superheated into plasma, then was ejected to give a push. What made it special was that instead of having physical nozzles for thrust control, it manifested dynamic dimensional micro-corridors. The direction of the thrust was shaped on the fly by the pilot, giving it unprecedented maneuverability. I thought I knew how to control it, but as it turned out, my understanding of physics was lacking. My thrust was suboptimal, if not completely wrong. I finally found a way to get the VI to control the thrust shaping based on my mental description of the maneuver.

  Slowly, remembering the flight sensations of the game, I trained with the ship’s Virtual Intelligence. We learned to work with each other. I learned how to be smooth, how to balance controls; it learned my patterns, my flying style.After almost two hours, still at minimal output, I was able to pilot the ship while doing something else, provided it did not require too much attention. I was certain that within a few weeks I would be back to my old ace level.

  For now, I did not dare activate the secondary propulsion. It was called an Anchorfield Thrusters propulsion. I had no idea how it worked, but the description was: Atarax Kinetics. Pivot?Halo AF?7: Anchorfield thruster lattice, generating transient spacetime hardpoints for snap vector changes and continuous acceleration. I mostly used it to generate resistance for smooth braking, or to force sharp direction changes. It was also supposed to generate a slow but undetectable propulsion. But I had never tested it. The idea of managing those spacetime hardpoints in addition to shaping the thrust vectors scared me. I knew I was going to get migraines from that until I got proficient enough.

  The flight session left me exhausted. I was already weak from my time in the medical pod. Now, my hands shook and sweat dripped down my face, soaking the chair.

  Still, there's one last thing I need to do. One last test.

  I set the main propulsion’s output to maximum. Suddenly, the gentle hum of the engines became a solid vibration. The ship thrummed under me. I felt the contained power waiting to be unleashed. I aimed the ship toward an empty part of space and punched the throttle.

  Then, alarms blared and the world warped. My vision narrowed and I felt an unbearable pressure on my chest, squeezing the life out of me. Everything became an unfocused blur. Then, nothing but darkness.

  Round 5, definite success. See you next round.