The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) by Gwyndolyn Russell (100 best novels of all time .txt) 📗

It would take hours to get everyone in their personal pods. Luckily, they had plenty of time until they reached the relay.

Jump pods were located around the center of the ship, surrounding the core. They were stacked upon a pillar surrounded by a protective shell in case debris pelted the ship. It was the safest location on the ship, even safer than the bridge. Nine pods were circled around the pillar, which acted as an elevator for each row. About five feet stood between each row, just enough for the pods to open without making contact.

As everyone lined up to get into the pods, cell leaders made final checks for identity and vitals. Once someone was checked in, they were taken to an open pod. They sat down inside where sensors were adhered to their chest, neck, and head. These would monitor their vitals. A rebreather was placed over their nose and mouth and they laid down. Once the row was filled, the transparent doors gently swung down and locked into place.

The pods were pressurized from the nearby control panel. Air sped out from several valves. With an airtight seal, interior valves opened to give way to an icy cold liquid solution.

For the first timers, it was a scary moment. Even though they had endless oxygen in their masks, the idea of drowning inside of a metal cage was at the forefront of their minds. Some children actually screamed, but could only brave it out. The transparency of the doors faded to black, a screen projecting on the inside and outside of the door.

Inside showed what was happening to them, which theoretically calmed them down once they realized they were going to be okay. Outside showed their identity and vitals. If something were to go wrong, now would be the time.

Luckily, everything went smoothly. Everyone was loaded up and put into a temporary stasis. No officers were housed within the same row. In fact, officers were split as far apart as possible in case of a malfunction, accident, or otherwise any damage occurring to the pods that could result in death.

The last to get situated inside their pods were the cell leaders, Willis, Irzazee, and Reaper. First, the latter three were sealed inside. Then the cell leaders put themselves in, initiating computer control for the duration of the jump.

The relay was nearly a hundred times the size of the Syndicate. Shaped like the barrel, or rather cage, of a rail gun. Its own core wound up with pulses of electricity, much like solar flares. In such close proximity, the thunderous whirring could be heard and even felt vibrating through the ship. The blue light of the relay's core shined brighter and brighter until it turned white. Then the white light flashed down the length of its cage, turning the rest of the blue lights to match. Bolts of lightning ripped and bent outwards.

Like a laser, the light shot forward hundreds of meters in front of the relay. At the end of the beam, it rippled and stretched out in all directions. The Syndicate shook as if a world destroying earthquake was trembling through its chassis.

A tendril of the crackling lightning reached from the core to attach itself to the ship. It spread over, popping and cracking. The hole the beam created ahead darkened. The beam thinned, but a ring of white and blue lightning shimmered around the utter blackness of space.

The tendril attached to the ship bent backwards, then forwards before reeling back once more. The ship shifted with it, forced to move backwards before being launched forward, following the length of the barrel cage, then the thinned beam of light and into the shadow of space it created.

All exterior lights bent and warped into chaotic, colorful prismatic shapes as if the ship was flying through a shifting kaleidoscope. The ship vibrated wildly, flecks of light ricocheting off its electrical shield. White noise felt like a roar, capable of rupturing eardrums and shifting the way blood flowed.

In a matter of minutes. The Syndicate was spat out of a hole of white. The hole sucked itself in, seemingly imploding itself. Darkness washed over the ship. The shaking slowly calmed.

The Syndicate rattled. Bolts and panels vibrating like a massaging machine. The lights flashed red, indicating damage or danger.

The lights flashed green. Then white. They steadied. The computer started the wakeup call, setting the cell leaders free of their potential coffins.

The computer then set for all officer pods to open, which made the cell leaders rush around the chambers.

Thus far, all vitals were stable and normal. Nothing had gone wrong.

Reaper was one of the first out, taking a breath of fresh air. He sat on the edge of his pod. No one enjoyed jumping. Sealed inside of a coffin, submerged in icy water. Breathing through a respirator that smelled like bleach. They slept through it all, but the claustrophobia and helplessness drifted through. Their bodies were jarred from the extreme speed to a sudden stop. Plenty came out puking their lunches up.

Others were not so lucky. Cell leaders and able medics carted those suffering from hyporexia to the medical bay. With some treatment, they would be up and moving by morning. The others had to get back to work.

Engineers rushed to return to their posts and diagnose any issues that could have cropped up from the jump. Soldiers escorted civilians and kept an eye out for any late blooms of jump sickness.

Just like that, everything was back to normal.

Reaper followed the crowd, broke off down a less busy hall. He wanted to try another call, but he had duties. He pushed the thought of his runaway lover out of his mind. There were pirates afoot, and he needed to find them.

Willis was already at the pilot's seat on the bridge, running checks.

"Good to see you up and walking." Willis smiled.

Reaper waved his hand, slumping down into his seat. A foot hooked into