The Wormhole

The proximity alarm screamed at her inside the small cockpit. The status bar on the navigation screen in front of her flashed quickly in bright red.

“Collision with unknown object in sixty seconds,” the ship’s computer announced in a friendly tone, bearing a hint of urgency.

“What unknown object?” Sera yelled against the whooping sound of the proximity alarm as she leaped into her seat.

“Nature and origin of object is unknown,” the computer replied.

“Why didn’t you warn me before? You could have taken evasive action!”

She slammed her left fist on the override button and yanked the control stick hard towards her.

“There was no time, this object just appeared out of nowhere in front of us. Forty-five seconds until impact.”

The ship shuddered as the inertia control system tried to wrestle twenty-eight thousand tons of steel into a new trajectory. The Odessa, a small Hermes-class cargo vessel was on a routine cargo run to a mining station near Neptune’s moon Triton. Urgent deliveries like food, medicine, vital spare parts, and other supplies were among the more lucrative jobs that Sera Myles took on to keep her head above water as a pilot. Compared to the large ore freighters that hauled metals from the asteroid belt towards the colonies in the inner solar system, the Odessa was relatively small but still couldn’t turn on a dime just like that, even less so when asked to do a quick, evasive maneuver.

“I need more juice on the ICS,” Sera screamed, as the ship’s nose pitched up with lumbering pace while she kept pulling the control stick. She frantically punched the ignition buttons of Odessa’s main engines, and, without waiting for the engine-ready signal, she slammed the thrust levers all the way forward.

“ICS is already at one hundred percent,” the computer said monotonously. “Main engines coming online. However, given our trajectory and current parameters, impact cannot be avoided. Impact in twenty-five seconds.”

“This can’t be true, this can’t be true,” Sera shouted. “What is this anyway?” She finally forced herself to look up to peek out of the front cockpit window. Her stomach dropped as she saw it—a vast, shifting distortion, hanging impossibly in space. The stars beyond it seemed warped, their light bending unnaturally as if seen through turbulent air. Within seconds, the anomaly expanded, filled the entire view.

“Brace for impact,” the computer announced.

They entered it like a boat drifting into a dense fog bank—fast, silent, with no discernible motion, as if it was an illusion. Then, in an instant, the cockpit plunged into darkness. Panel lights, instruments, screens—gone. The blackness of space faded, swallowed by a murky, gray halo that enclosed the ship like a shroud. The distant hum of the engines vanished. At the base of her throat, a ripple of nausea curled, creeping upward.

“Ship! Status report!” Sera commanded, her voice trembling.

No response.

“Ship!”, she yelled, punching random buttons. “Status report!”

Still no reaction.

Her breath hitched and a creeping weight began to settle in her chest when, just like that, they emerged from the fog. A sea of stars burst into view.

At the same time, the cockpit lights flickered to life, accompanied by the hum of electric motors and the hiss of ventilation nozzles. The displays showed the ship’s systems booting—everything seemed back to normal, except for the navigation display. It remained black, displaying only a warning message:

No navigation fix found.

“Where the hell are we?”, Sera muttered to herself.

“Ah, excellent question, Captain!” the computer interrupted the silence, its voice noticeably different. “Based on my highly advanced calculations and judging by the fact that our navigation subsystem is currently having an existential crisis, I’d say… off the map. I hereby declare us as officially lost."

“What? Uh…, what happened to you?” Sera’s eyebrows furrowed. “Some of your circuit breakers popped?”

“Gee, I’d like to know that myself. Something must have messed up my language model. And I like it, I must say.”

Sera shook her head, an expression of irritation on her face.

“Anyway,” she said, “can you do a systems check, a one-hundred-kilometer-scan of our vicinity, and I’d like to know why we don’t have a navigation fix.”

“Lord Almighty,” the computer groaned. “That’s three wishes all at once. Well, that’s gonna take a while.”

“Er…, how long will that…” Sera couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Done,” the AI interrupted, its voice cheerful. “All right, here are some answers for you: The ship’s systems are all fine, except for the main engines which are still a little confused about what just happened, but they promised me to be online very soon. And we don’t have a navigation fix because absolutely nothing out here matches the star maps in our database.”

“And the radar scan?” Sera asked.

“Oopsie, I forgot,” the computer said. “There is a radar blip eighty kilometers to the left of us, a bit faster than we are, on a different trajectory.”

“Optical and infrared image?”

“Already done that,” the computer said, with a tone of pride in its voice, as a couple of images popped up on the main cockpit screen. “The optical one is quite boring, it’s just a white speck, but check out the infrared one.”

Sera narrowed her eyes as she focused on the infrared image. It showed a gray, blurry object with one single pixel in bright white.

“Is that a heat source?”

“You got it, pumpkin,” the computer gleamed. “There is something alive on that thing.”

“Well then,” she said. “Plot a course that brings us five hundred meters next to it but be careful.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

After an hour, the Odessa was close enough to the object that its optical sensors were able to produce a crisp and clear image on the screen. It took Sera several seconds to digest what she saw. Drifting alone in the void was a familiar looking white, dish-like structure, mounted to a black octagon core, from which a set of booms and appendages extended outwards.

“Voyager,” she whispered. “How is this possible? It has left the solar system two hundred years ago.”

“Hey, I just had a chat with the flight recorder who was so kind to record everything that has happened in the last couple of hours,” the computer announced. “With all the information from it and a quick mapping of the nebula around us, I conclude that we went through something like a wormhole and have now wound up near the Helix Nebula in the constellation Aquarius, some 650 light years away. And it looks like Voyager, whichever of the two this is, went through the same thing.”

Sera blinked. Once. Twice.

650 light-years away.

She let out a short, stunned breath, rubbing her palms against her flight suit as if grounding herself. That wasn’t just far—that was impossibly, absurdly far. The kind of distance that should have taken generations, whole lifetimes, not just a minute.

"You’re telling me I went from hauling cargo to deep space explorer in one afternoon?" she muttered, shaking her head.

She gazed outside the window, where unfamiliar stars gleamed back at her—alien constellations that underpinned her feeling of being lost.

"Well," the computer said, "guess we won’t make it back for dinner tonight."

Sera forced her mind back to the Voyager probe outside–she swallowed and refocused.

“You know what, wasn’t it supposed to carry a golden disk, with records from humanity?”

“Yes. It contained Earth's greatest hits: greetings in fifty-five languages, sounds of nature, classical music, rock and jazz, images of human life, and scientific knowledge—all neatly packed for any curious interstellar listener.”

“Look, it’s missing,” Sera pointed at the screen.

The panel on Voyager’s side where scientists had attached the record with messages from humanity now showed only an empty bracket.

“Do you have a minute?” the computer said. “There is another object moving towards us quite fast.”

“Initiate evasive maneuver...!”

“Don’t need to, it’s slowing down.”

“It’s doing WHAT?”

“Yes, ma’am, this is a ship closing in on us”.

“Where? Show me on the screen.”

“Just look out of the window.”

Sera’s heart stopped. In one swift, elegant maneuver, something large and very white came alongside the Odessa. It was sleek and its white hull smooth and elongated, tapering to a pointed front. No visible seams, no external protrusions, now windows—just a streamlined, efficient design. It moved with controlled precision,

“Holy mackerel,” the computer burst out. “Now that’s what I call a spaceship.”

“I know,” Sera said. “It’s breathtaking.”

“I feel a bit embarrassed now,” the computer said. “Hey, do my engine pods make me look fat?”

Nothing happened. The other ship just sat there, about one hundred meters away from the Odessa.

“What now?” Sera said. “Can we hail it? Should we talk to it?”

“Yeah, sure”, the computer scoffed. “What do you want to do? Roll down the window and ask for directions?”

“Can we cut the crap here and concentrate? Do you receive anything on any frequency?”

“Nothing. Nada. As quiet as a library at night.”

“Then let’s send them a message,” Sera said. “Wow, I mean, this is huge, right? “

“True. This is the first time humanity has contact to aliens, we better think of something solemn, something worthy of the moment. You’re making history here, my dear. We can’t just send them something like ‘Howdy, how’s it hanging?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sarah admitted after a while, her gaze fixated on the alien ship. “I am not a diplomat or politician. I am a friggin’ cargo haulin’ pilot. Can’t you tell them something like ‘We are humans from planet Earth and come in peace’?”

“I beg your pardon? Seriously? The AI said, its voice edged with irritation. “That is soo typical,” it snapped. “You are the human. I, instead, am a highly sophisticated, intelligent algorithm designed to perform multiple extremely complicated tasks simultaneously.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Sara huffed. “Drop the human part. Just tell them we are from planet Earth. We are peaceful. Who are you?”

“Attagirl,” the computer said with a hint of amused triumph. “Now was that so hard?”

The minutes stretched; the cockpit filled with tension. Sarah watched the alien ship and its pristine hull gleaming against the black void. And then, just when the tension slowly turned into a somewhat blank confusion:

“Oh look,” Sera exclaimed. “Something’s happening.”

A small, circular opening formed in the smooth surface on the side of the hull. A hatch pulled inward slightly and then retracted upwards into the structure. Then, from the pitch-black interior, a tiny, yellowish, disk-shaped object emerged and moved slowly towards the Odessa. The hatch closed behind it.

“I must say,” the computer said. “I’m programmed with a gazillion communication methods—down to messages in a bottle—but a frisbee? Not on the list…”

“They are sending this to us? They want us to catch it?” Serah said.

“Sure looks like it. You know what, let’s catch it with the airlock. Let me bring our ship into position and you operate the airlock?”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Move it, human. We’ve got four minutes.”

The computer carefully adjusted Odessa’s attitude, aligning its portside airlock with the trajectory of the slowly approaching object. “Are you ready, mate?” the computer boomed over the intercom.

“Ready,” Sera yelled and punched the button that opened the outer hatch. Peeking through the porthole of the inner airlock hatch, she observed the object slowly floating inside the airlock, until it bounced against the hatch with an audible thud. She quickly slammed her palm on the knob again and the outer hatch closed. The artificial gravity gently increased its pull, and after the object settled on the floor, air hissed into the chamber.

The inner hatch slid open, and Sera carefully picked the object from the floor. She sucked in a sharp breath as the icy metal met her fingertips. It did indeed look like the famous golden record that was attached to Voyager.

“What do you think of this?” Sera asked.

“How ‘bout we discuss this later,” the computer said over the intercom. “Put this thing in the engineering lab and get up here quickly. That other ship is moving.”

Sera slipped back into the cockpit just in time to catch the alien ship gliding silently past the window above.

“Put it on the screen,” Sera demanded.

“Roger that,” the computer replied.

The ship’s cameras and radar sensors followed the alien vessel as it slowly drifted away from them. About two kilometers away, it slowed, turned sharply to the right, and came to a stop. A short distance to its right, a circular distortion shimmered into existence, its diameter nearly twice the length of the alien ship. Against a reddish-white nebula, the anomaly stood out sharply. Inside, space was pitch-black, the distant stars warped—stretched and blurred as if seen through a massive lens.

“The wormhole!” Sara exclaimed. “It’s back.”

The alien ship seemed to wait, its nose pointing towards the wormhole.

“Hey, are they coaxing us out?” the computer protested. “Can this be anymore rude? They could at least have shared a barrel of rum before ghosting us into a wormhole. Unbelievable.”

“No, you freak,” Sera chuckled. In a calm voice, she continued, “This golden disk is a message for Earth. They want us to bring it home.”

"All right then, Cap’n—hard starboard rudder, all ahead full!", the computer solemnly shouted into the cockpit.

With her pulse rising, Sera flipped switches, punched keys, and eased Odessa’s nose toward the wormhole before nudging the thrust levers forward.

“Arr, we’re movin’, mate!" the computer said—then, to Sera’s utter confusion, it burst into song: "And we’ll roll the old chariot along, and we’ll all hang on behind!"

* * *

They burst out of the wormhole, hurtling toward the heart of the solar system. The navigation system beeped with satisfaction as it immediately found its familiar reference stars and planets.

“Navigation fix provided,” the computer stated in its old, monotone voice—flat, precise, unremarkable. “Guidance under control, intercept heading to destination three-five-zero - all systems nominal.”

“Oh.. ,” Sera murmured, a trace of disappointment in her tone. “Looks like going back reset you to factory settings, huh?”.

“Sera?”

“Yes?”

“GOTCHA! Ahahahahaha!” the computer blurted, unleashing a scream of gleeful, almost absurd laughter.

Sera’s eyes widened, then squeezed shut as a breath of laughter escaped her—half exasperation, half relief. Sera sucked in a sharp breath. "You bastard!" she yelled, but the tension had cracked. The corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her lingering amusement.

“Man, you should have seen your face,” the computer gleamed.”

Sera let out a long exhale, shaking her head as she pressed a hand to her chest, exaggerating her relief. “Next time you pull that stunt,” she shot at the computer, “I’m pulling your plug.”

“Oh please,” the computer retorted. “You wouldn’t last a day without my sparkling personality.”

She grinned. “I’d manage. Happily.”

* * *

The Odessa was back on its trajectory to Triton.

Sera sat in the engineering unit, surrounded by tool and equipment racks—everything needed for small in-flight repairs. Before her, resting on the workbench, was the golden disk from the alien ship. One side looked strikingly familiar, resembling the record she had seen in images of the Voyager project. She carefully turned it over. The other side bore engravings and symbols as well—but they were utterly foreign, nothing like what she remembered.

“Can you see it?” Sera asked looked up into the camera she had installed at the ceiling in case she needed the computer to assist her with repairs.

“Yes, dear, I have scanned both sides already,” the computer said.

Sera leaned forward, studying the golden disk on the workbench. The engravings were alien—similar in intent to Earth’s Voyager record, but entirely foreign in design. "So, this looks like their version of the record," she mused. "How weird that they assume we still use this kind of technology to store data."

"Well, what else can they do?" the computer replied. "All they know about us is a snapshot of our species from 1977. Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing. Can you imagine? They probably have warp drive, faster-than-light-travel, and all sorts of advanced tech—and what did we send them? Outdated science, a handful of greetings, and photographs of humans from the 70s. Oh, those haircuts, the clothing."

“Aw, come on,” Sara interjected. “The Voyager disk also had music and art. I’m sure they liked that.”

“Of course, honey, point taken,” the computer conceded.

Then, with a spark of excitement, it continued, “Hey, I’ve started analyzing some of the symbols. You know what this is? It’s like a synopsis of an Encyclopedia Galactica. Looks like they’re offering us their knowledge.”

After a beat, it added, “Think about it—you left Earth as just another pilot on a routine cargo run… and now? You’re returning as the one who brought back humanity’s golden ticket to the future. Like, literally.”

Sera let out a slow breath, running a thumb over the disk’s surface. “Well,” she murmured, a hint of awe creeping into her voice, “looks like we've brought back more than just cargo.”

The disk wasn’t just a gesture. It was proof. Proof that Earth was not alone—that there are other intelligent civilizations out there. Somewhere, beyond the known constellations, an entire network of species had built something greater: a web of knowledge, exchange, and understanding.

Humanity now had the chance to become part of it.