Time-Slip 22

Susan Ballard was awake again, long after the ship’s night cycle had dimmed the lights. Sleep came uneasily aboard the Sophia, the first intergalactic passenger vessel in human history. Scientists back on Earth had warned them—without a planetary magnetic field, the human circadian rhythm faltered. The ship’s electromagnetic envelopes attempted to mimic the Schumann resonance, Earth’s natural 10-hertz cradle, but no machine could replicate what nature had perfected over millions of years. So Susan wrote, using her favourite antique dip pen.

Her journal had become a steadying ritual, a place to lay down her thoughts and anchor her drifting mind. Perhaps one day, far in the future, the descendants of this mission would read her words on the distant world of Eplis. Perhaps they would understand what it meant to be the first to leave the cradle of Earth behind.

She dipped her pen and began.

14 September 2524 GCE

Finally, we have made our way to the stars. We are no longer bound to one

planet—to its old wounds, ancient conflicts, and endless cycles of expansion

and collapse. For millennia humanity spread across Earth, conquering,

dividing, building empires that rose and fell on the tides of greed and fear.

But today marks a different kind of evolution. We left behind the age of

industrial excess and the exploitative economies that nearly consumed the

planet. We learned—painfully—that a society built on profit and scarcity would always descend into entropy. It took centuries, revolutions, and near-extinction before we understood that the future required cooperation, not competition.

The global resource-based society that finally emerged freed humanity from its darkest patterns. We healed the scars of earlier eras. We redesigned technology to serve life rather than consume it. And now we embark on the second transition: to carry our renewed civilization to the stars…

Susan paused, leaning back. Her thoughts drifted to the accounts of Earth’s near collapse—the mass extinctions, the economic and ecological breakdowns, the mysterious solar anomalies no one could fully explain. Those sensitive to Earth’s magnetosphere claimed they had felt the changes long before the instruments did. Ancient cultures had inscribed warnings in stone, hinting at stellar forces that shaped DNA itself.

She dipped her pen again.

Humanity finally understood that the mechanisation of society—even the

mechanisation of people—had brought us to the brink. But the rise of a

transparent global network exposed corruption, awakened awareness, and

forged a new direction.

Within three hundred years of 2012 GCE, the world broke free from the old

elites, their debt systems, and the culture of perpetual war. The effort to

repair Earth took generations. Now our mission extends that work—we carry the potential for new life to another world.

I am part of humanity’s next step. And though we still do not fully understand space, time, or the strange truth behind matter—that all protons may be connected across dimensions, and perhaps that only one proton exists in all time—we dare to explore beyond the boundaries of the known.

She set her pen down. The words steadied her, but the ache of homesickness remained—memories of wind and sea, of Earth beneath her feet; family dinners; laughter; the warmth of her parents’ final embrace before launch.

The discovery of Eplis had given humanity hope. First detected in 2176, it took many decades to reach with probes, until that was the discovery of slipstreams. When the data returned in 2399, the planet appeared like Earth two million years prior—vibrant, raw, and promising. Its sun was midway through its fusion life, offering a long future for colonization.

In 2514 GCE, Susan and her husband Alex had been chosen among the 144,000 pioneers—the first wave to journey across the stars. They knew they would likely never walk on Eplis themselves; the distance was too great, even with the newly discovered slipstreams, cosmic currents that could propel vessels at a third of light-speed. But their children, born aboard the Sophia, would. Their duty was to prepare those future generations to build a new civilization.

Susan yawned, rose from her chair, and padded toward the bedroom. Alex was already asleep, snoring softly. She paused in the doorway, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His quiet presence—familiar, grounding—made the coldness of space feel almost bearable.

She slipped off her gown and climbed into bed, curling beside him, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat pulsed steadily beneath her ear.

And she drifted into dreams, and into mystery.

BAMM!

The Sophia lurched sideways. The bed upended, flinging them violently across the cabin. They struck the far wall as another explosion rocked the ship, lifting them toward the ceiling before gravity snapped back and dropped them hard. Screams echoed through the corridors—shouts, alarms, fire-suppression bursts—the chaotic orchestra of catastrophe.

BOOM!

The emergency intercom crackled to life:

‘All passengers please proceed to L-Pod Levels Two, Three, and Four.

This is not a drill.’

Alex grabbed Susan. ‘Come on—let’s move!’

They hauled on their jumpsuits and magnetic boots. Alex slapped his palm against the door panel. It hissed open to chaos. People ran in panic. Flames licked along the walls. Bodies—injured, burned, unmoving—lay scattered. Others stopped to help, dragging the wounded clear of fires. Alex and Susan did what they could to help the injured to get back on their feet. The air tasted of ozone and metal.

‘Who’s attacking us?’ Alex shouted over the din.

‘Aliens, I assume.’ Susan yelled back, though she knew the question was rhetorical.

No one had known for sure whether intelligent life existed beyond Earth—until now. The Sophia had unknowingly trespassed into the territory of a species later identified as the Adelphivi.

Alex and Susan sprinted toward Level Four.

Suddenly, an elderly couple stood blocking the corridor. They looked impossibly out of place. No one over thirty had been aboard the ship. The old man reached toward Alex.

‘Alex…’

Alex froze. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘Because… we are you,’ the man said, his voice trembling.

Susan stared at the older woman. The resemblance was unmistakable—familiar eyes, familiar posture—softened by decades.

‘This can’t be real,’ Susan whispered.

‘We don’t have time to explain,’ the older woman said. ‘We came through a slipstream to this moment. We escaped the attack once… but the trajectory pulled us into a time slip. We landed on a world we came to call Solteria, sixty years in the past.’

The elder Alex pressed a small device into his younger self’s hands. ‘We have spent our lives trying to return to this point—to save you… to save everyone. Time Slip attempt twenty-two. This device opens a gateway directly to Eplis. Use it once you’re all safely in the L-pods. It will bypass the event that trapped us.’

Another explosion rippled through the ship—closer now. The deck plating vibrated beneath their boots. Alex searched his older self’s face for deceit. None showed.

‘If we use this,’ Alex asked quietly, ‘won’t you cease to exist?’

The old man nodded. ‘A new timeline will branch. Your future will not be ours. Our time will end tonight.’

The words hung between them.

The ship groaned. Systems were failing.

‘You must go,’ the elder Susan urged. ‘Please.’

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Alex tightened his grip on the device. ‘Thank you.’ He didn’t know why he said it—only that it felt right.

The old couple stepped back, their faces serene, as if relieved.

‘Good luck,’ the elder Alex said.

Alex and Susan ran—through smoke and heat, through the thunder of the dying ship.

They entered an L-pod. The hatch sealed. Dozens of pods ejected in rapid sequence, scattering like silver seeds into the void. Enemy fire shifted, chasing them. Susan held up the device. Her hand trembled.

‘Ready?’ she asked.

Alex took her hand. ‘We’ve come this far.’

She pressed the orange button.

Ahead, space twisted—folding into a luminous vortex. A gateway. A way out. The pods were pulled toward its growing gravity well. Fear and wonder rippled through the transmissions from the others—no one knew what was happening.

But Alex and Susan knew… The light engulfed them.

And the future changed.

**THE END**

© Adam R. Grose, 2025