LightShip - Image courtesy of Thomas Budach
Our lightship shudders.
Fighting the helm, I collapse the warp bubble, dropping us into normal space. A neon haze wrecks visibility.
"Where are we?"
Juice works the nav. "Hard to say."
"Try infrared; without a fix, we'll lose this race."
He adjusts, spinning the resulting star field like a beachball.
"You undershot, Ben. We're on track, in a nebula one parsec short." He reads coordinates.
Compensating for my error, I reactivate the Alcubierre Drive.
We exit warp six hours later, bathed in the rays of five suns. The comm chimes.
"Welcome to New Canaan, gentlemen. You're the first to arrive."
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