He tried to remember where he was. Or why. He’d been on a blasted shuttle. Right. Nothing was working but the BOD engine. Right. He’d fixed it, right? The air in his suit was nearly depleted. Minutes left and that was stale.
Travis felt as though he was trying to conjure up memories from his early childhood. Those ones from birth to around three-years-old that no one ever remembers. But deep inside he knew he must.
There was no sensation of anything reaching him but his injuries. All around him was blackness. Was he blind? Was he even alive? Or is this what death is like? Nothingness. But he felt aches and sharp pains. His private hell, designed specifically for him by an uncaring God? Would those pains and lack of sensation be his eternity?
Then, a thought. He’d jumped! He’d reset the BOD engine so that instead of creating a hole that the shuttle could be pushed into, it was refocused to a lotus surrounding him only. It must have worked. Or killed him.
One thing was certain. He was out of air, gasping and coughing at the same time. Working on the assumption that he was alive and in the beyond, he tried to think of what Hibbes and Chandler had told him about this region that lays between the branes of the multiverse, sort of the insulation between all the parallel universes.
No rules! No laws of physics. Could that be it? If there are no rules, then there’s nothing to break, or rather, prevent him from breaking them. Of course! Think of something and it happens. Think of somewhere and you are there. Exiting is easier than entering. He’d remembered that since the two trips he’d made prior.
“I don’t need air,” he decided. Suddenly, he stopped gasping. But that’s impossible! And with that, he gasped and realized he did need air.
How much time had passed? The mind was fogged-in. Not working. “Think of somewhere,” he pondered but it was getting difficult for his brain’s synapses to function. Think of some place. . . .