The station drifted on the quiet edge of the Perseus Fold, where starlight felt thin, nearly reluctant, as if indeed photons were doubtful about entering this place. Asha stood by the observation sundeck, triumphs pressed to the cold glass, watching the strange ripple in space that had begun pulsing an hour before. It was n’t large.However, it was the size of a doorway — a perpendicular tear of shimmering violet, If anything. But the feeling it gave off did n’t match its size. It felt ancient, intolerant, alive. Then’s the thing the crew had seen anomalies ahead. Wormholes, gravitational

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