Seated in the chair of the space armada’s commander was the emperor of galactic empire known as Osirus. Broad shoulders, thick arms and massive thighs denoted the emperor’s warrior status. Emerald eyes with a golden corona watched everything around him. Emperor Ma’al Maharik Etarendi sat, flanked by four of his strongest commanders and a unique warrior known as the emperor’s choice, staring out the vid-screen at a nebula.

  Less than six weeks earlier an illegal slave trade was chased into the nebula and all traces of their ship disappeared. There was only one reason that a ship disappeared out in the middle of nowhere—a dimensional slip drive. A report of the slip drive was hastily delivered and he had boarded the next available ship, ordered the armada into action and set out to catch the bastard responsible for the death of his consort. knowing that Garteth Greybeard would have to come back through the same slip stream he ordered the nebula to surrounded to prevent the monster from escaping.

  Dimensional slips were as dangerous as time travel and both were not only banned in the Osirus empire, but was illegal in most enlightened kingdoms. The risk of causing a rift was one in ten and the risks only increased the longer the rift was open. Fortunately, Ma’al came prepared on the off chance a rift opened.

  That Greybeard manage to cross dimensions was bad enough, but knowing that he was going to be loaded down with new victims there was no way to return without the risks of damaging the timeline or the barrier between dimensions. It was going to be that man’s last trek anywhere as a free man. The emperor wanted to howl his victory but knew it was fool hardy before they had everyone on the slave ship in custody.

  The emperor gave a feral snarl.

  “Sir?” growled the emperor’s choice.

  Ma’al shook his head. Behind him the warrior tilted his head. The warrior was as beefy as was possible thanks to a special process that created a warrior known as an alpha. Alpha’s were the only warriors that were capable of building packs of warriors that acted as a type of militia that policed the empire ensuring that laws were followed and they often specialized in a type of crime. Alphas were second only to the emperor. There were only eight such warriors.

  A flair of energy became visible as an event horizon on the main screen.

  “There is the beginning of a dimensional shift is now visible.”

  “Report,” armada commander Oglen Holtersen ordered.

  “Slip stream horizon is on screen. Sixty seconds until it can be traversed safely.”

  A count down began as the armada the emperor has suborned to ensure the capture of Greybeard leapt into action; weeks of preparation finally unleashed.

  Still the emperor stared at the vid-screen with single minded focus. Then the horizon was gone and a single ship stared back. He listened as commander Holterson gave orders to detain and board the ship as soon as the horizon closed. The the ship appeared and the emperor’s choice ordered his warriors to board. The wait for confirmation that they had Greybeard was maddening. And still he waited.

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  “Sir,” a solder reported. “Twenty men have been arrested along with one Garteth Greybeard; as well as seventy victims from another dimension. Sending over a live feed of the hold now.”

  The scene unfolding on the screen was surreal. The hold was packed with bodies fighting over scraps of food. Two young boys struggled to defend against the onslaught of madness. One of the boys’ arm was snapped at the forearm. The second boy went feral; punches and kicks seeming to fly wildly. Then he ran at one of the other men and planted a foot in the face as he leapt for the bars of the ceiling. Getting his feet through the bars he reached down for his friend and hauled him up to the bars.

  It was painful to watch the struggle, but soon enough the boys were as safe as was possible. Ma’al watched as the broken arm was set and winced when the one with the broken arm passed out.

  “Knock out the hold and verify that the arm was set properly,” Ma’al murmured. “Then transfer everyone to this ship. Argus, you oversee the victims. Make sure that the boy with the broken arm is transferred to my quarters. I will ensure that he is cared for. The other one is to be sent to Keliv III,” he stood. “Tell commander Ohanzee that I want him trained.”

  “Sir!” came the response. The emperor’s choice turned and left the bridge.

  Micha

  Micha Bailey groaned as she came awake. The scent of fresh air that drifted through the throng of unwashed bodies told her they had reached their destination. Where ever that was. She began to wonder where that was and what was going to happen next. Turning to check on Thomas, she froze. the straps that held him up had been cut and he was nowhere to be seen. She was only able to pray that he was getting medical care for the busted arm.

  The only one awake she dropped to the floor and made her way to the exit. Staring out at an unknown world, she shook her head. This was something that happened to the main character of an isekai.

  “You little…”

  “We are not on Earth,” Micha cut the brut off.

  “Bullshi…”

  Micha waved to the outside world as she glared at the oaf behind her. “Sun? Too big. Moon? Too many. Sky? Purple tint. This ain’t Kansas, Toto.”

  The man stared at her for a second before turning to face the direction she was pointing and froze. Micha arched a brow and crossed her arms. Then she turned to look out as well when a floating bed with Thomas floated past. The arm had been splinted and he had been given something for pain if the loco look on his face was anything to go by.

  On the opposite side of the bed was a regally dressed man; who paused briefly to look at her. Why or how she knew that was beyond her, but the possessive hand on the bed made it clear that whoever he was, Thomas was now his problem.

  She gripped the bars tightly and clenched her jaw. She wanted to argue. Rail against the injustice. Then she tilted her chin a fraction higher. She might not have any control at the moment, but that was going to change.

  The oaf next to her began rattling the bars and shrieking to be let out. Rather then be knocked over she let go, but she kept her eyes on the snappily dressed man as he walked away. She had no idea what was going on. No idea where she was. No clue how to get back home.

  What she did know was she was a survivor. That did not change just because the planet was not the same. She had been bullied by her mother’s string of boy toys and had managed to stand strong. She was going to show everyone that she did not back down or roll over.

  Not waiting for whoever was going to release them she made her way to the back to wait and see what would happen next. Let some other sucker be the first one hit by the freight train that was reality. She was going to decide what to do on her own.