Deviation by A.J. Maguire

Antimatter Discs Now .
    "She's psychotic," Myron said.
    Antimatter Discs were for wormhole travel in space. The so-called brilliant answer scientists had come up with to combat the wormhole's pesky temper. Wormholes would collapse if any sort of matter was put inside, but the Antimatter Discs had a way of tricking a wormhole into thinking nothing was there. The discs were only moderately safe in space, there was no telling what they would do while surrounded by the pressure of several million tons of water.
    Or there was a way to tell, his mother just hadn't parted with that knowledge yet.
    "Do it," Hedric ordered.
    "Captain ... "
    "I said do it."
    Myron cursed, again, and flipped through the commands. A breathless moment later the ship jolted forward, throwing Hedric off his feet and back into the corridor. His head connected with the walkway hard, pain sparkling into his vision. A strong arm hauled him to his feet and he registered Jellison's boxy face as the man struggled to return him to the navigator's chair. They both fell into the cockpit, Jellison's substantial weight landing half on top of him.
    No sooner had they met the cockpit floor than Jellison was up again, gruffly dragging Hedric up and half-tossing him into the chair. He was mildly disconcerted at having been handled like a rag doll, but threw the thought aside for more pressing matters. The Lothogy rattled under sudden speed and pressure, remarkably similar to when it passed through a wormhole, only the MEDS screen showed very little.
    Their momentum came to an abrupt halt, the ship going suddenly slack as the visual came clear on the screen. They had either arrived, or were about to explode. For a moment Hedric wondered which option was preferable, and then Myron let go of a tense breath.
    "Petrol is nearly depleted," Myron said. "Ionic fuel at forty-three percent."
    All the lights and controls went out at once, silencing the pilot. Hedric held his breath, staring into total blackness, and prayed his mother hadn't misled him. The main motor sputtered, struggling to come back to life. Another low groan pulsed around the hull, and then the power flickered back. He breathed again, looking at Myron as he began to push the ship back toward the surface.
    There was no command on the screen to do so, but Hedric didn't object. Something felt off about the view in the MEDS screen; an eerie sort of emptiness that crawled up the base of his neck. His mother's words haunted him in the recesses of his mind; "I don't know how it works, son."
    He should have asked her for more detail.

*
    "The world mourns today as Jennifer Cloacina, the last surviving unaltered female passed away. Aged 87, Cloacina lived to watch all but one member of her female relatives succumb to the Mavirus. Malory Rodstem, Cloacina's second cousin, was among the first of the G.A. - Genetically Altered - women. While scientists still cannot identify why Cloacina was never infected, there is a hope that further study of the woman's remains can shed some light on the mystery." - Associated Press August 22, 2198

Chapter Five

    "We've lost contact."
    Celeocia took the revelation with grace, staring at the blank screen and trying to remind herself why she had done this. She had a sinking suspicion that this was not a sacrifice she could handle. Was feminine freedom worth the death of her own son?
    It would be a good half hour before they had any sort of communication with the Lothogy, if they had made it through. The last report had been the launching of the antimatter discs, but Myron had hesitated for approximately one minute and twenty seconds. They hadn't deviated again but the pause could have cost them fuel and time.
    She'd known there would be complications with this mission, those men were headstrong and arrogant, but this was intolerable. Hedric was reckless and charismatic, but he always got the job done. He would manage this time, too, she told herself. In spite of the fact that she'd withheld