212. On the Nature of Faster Than Light. (Patreon)

Peter (Earth-65M) POV:

Faster-than-light travel sounds romantic.

On paper, it’s a mess of tensor calculus, exotic energy densities and screaming physicists insisting causality is sacred.

In reality? It’s worse.

Because reality doesn’t care about your whiteboard. Reality cares more about its whimsical, ever changing rules than about your equations.

I leaned back against the lab console as half the Spider-Society and assorted loved ones stared at me like I’d just admitted to owning gravity.

“Alright,” I began, gesturing toward the holographic projection rotating above us. “Three FTL frameworks. All operational and all of them stupidly dangerous if mishandled.”

Margo crossed her arms. “Start with the least insane.”

“They’re all insane.” I replied.

The projection shifted to a crumpled lattice structure floating inside a transparent sphere.

“First. Slipspace Translation. Inspired by the Shaw-Fujikawa Mark X Macedon prototype architecture.”

Peni’s eyes lit up. “You kept the name?”

“Yes,” I said flatly. “Branding matters. Also, I own Halo.”

A faint chuckle rippled through the room.

I expanded the model.

“Think of our observable universe as a four-dimensional manifold. Three spatial axes plus time. Now imagine that manifold embedded within a higher-dimensional topology which is mathematically consistent with M-theory brane cosmology. Eleven-dimensional spacetime. What certain theoretical frameworks refer to as a Calabi–Yau folded compactification.”

Miles blinked slowly. Scarred Peter began writing furiously.

“In simplified terms,” I continued, “normal space is smooth. Slipspace is tangled. If you crumple a sheet of paper, two distant points can touch. That’s geometric shortcutting via higher-dimensional embedding.”

Margo nodded slowly. “So you’re not exceeding light speed locally. You’re altering the metric.”

“Exactly. No violation of local Lorentz invariance. We’re modifying the geodesic path.”

I rotated the model again. A micro-singularity pulsed at its center.

“The engine generates a controlled micro black hole which is artificially stabilized via negative energy density fields to momentarily weaken spacetime curvature. That creates a shear threshold where the vessel can transition into Slipspace.”

Peter B. coughed. “You’re… tearing the universe?”

“Temporarily perforating.” I corrected.

“Same thing.” He muttered under his breath.

“The Slipspace medium obeys altered physical constants. Effective speed scales increase because spatial separation contracts relative to our baseline frame. Energy and momentum conservation still apply but the vacuum permittivity and quantum field fluctuations differ.”

Peni tilted her head. “What’s transit velocity?”

“Relative translation equivalent of roughly 2,000 to 10,000 times light speed depending on mass.”

“Mass matters?” asked Gayatri to everyone's surprise.

“Mass always matters,” I replied. “Higher mass requires stronger singularity stabilization fields. More energy and more risk of horizon collapse.”

Hobie leaned against a wall. “So that’s version one. What’s version two?”

The projection shifted and a luminous tunnel spiraled inward infinitely.

“Hyperdrive.” I said.

“Of course it’s called that.” Margo muttered.

“This one dives deeper. Instead of lateral translation into an eleven-dimensional manifold, Hyperdrive accesses a compressed subspace layer an even tighter geometric fold.”

I brought up equations. “Using a calibrated tachyon field.”

Miles raised his hand. “Tachyons are hypothetical.”

“They were,” I corrected. “Until I isolated a controllable superluminal field excitation.”

Scarred Peter looked up sharply. “You created stable tachyon condensation?”

“Yes.”

“How did you avoid causality loops?”

“By restricting propagation direction to pre-defined null cones via quantum entanglement locking.” I replied.

Margo whispered, “That’s…”

“Insane?” I offered helpfully.

“Elegant.” She finished.

“The tachyon charge doesn’t propel the ship. It creates a transient corridor by lowering local spacetime energy density below Planck-scale thresholds. The ship falls into the compressed manifold.”

Peni leaned forward. “Effective velocity?”

“Approximately 21.9 billion times the light speed equivalent.”

Several people made choking noises.

“That translates to roughly 694 light-years per second.”

Gayatri blinked. “So Andromeda galaxy?”

“Two hours. Give or take drift correction.”

Aunt May 1610-B made the sign of the cross.

“What powers that?” Margo demanded.

“Depends on the ship class.” I replied, switching projections.

“Light frigates — say, 2 to 5 million metric tons — can operate using high-yield pinch fusion or matter-antimatter reactors. Energy requirements peak at 10^18 joules per transition window.”

“And the big ones?” asked Peni.

“The Infinity-class equivalents?” I exhaled. “Vacuum energy siphon systems.”

Hobie coughed mid-bite.

“Explain it to us like we're two years old.” Margo said.

“Quantum vacuum fluctuations contain enormous zero-point energy. With proper Casimir confinement fields and event-horizon regulators, you can extract usable output.”

“How much?” she pressed.

“Five exajoules per nanosecond during hyperdrive ignition.”

Water sprayed from three separate noses.

“That’s 5 × 10^18 joules every billionth of a second!” Peni shrieked.

“Yes.”

“That’s… that’s...”

“About 1,200 megatons TNT equivalent per nanosecond,” Scarred Peter muttered, doing math.

“Which is why,” I added calmly, “the reactors are isolated across independent containment lattices. One failure doesn’t cascade.”

Miles stared at me. “Bro.”

“Don’t bro me.”

Ganke raised a trembling finger. “So galaxies are like… an hour away?”

“If navigation vectors are precomputed and gravitational shear is minimal.”

Margo squinted. “And if it isn’t?”

“You die.” I said.

“Moving on.” I said brightly.

The projection shifted again. Hexagonal gates formed a shimmering web across a galactic map.

“Third method is jump points.”

Miles perked up. “That sounds less explodey.”

“It isn’t.” I replied.

“These are artificial wormhole anchors. Part of what is called the Universal Neural Teleportation Network. Each node generates a stabilized Einstein–Rosen bridge between paired coordinates.”

Inspector Singh frowned. “So instant travel?”

“Yes but you must know the exit coordinate and authentication key.”

Peni tilted her head. “Authentication?”

“It’s more a network than a drive. The ship doesn’t generate the wormhole. It requests it. Navigation computer transmits entangled credentials.”

Margo’s eyes widened. “You built an intergalactic infrastructure.”

“No. I recovered partial architecture from the research of Dr. Wendy Lawson formerly Mar-Vell connected to Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S.”

“I may have… accessed some SHIELD files.”

“And learned about the Kree.” Hobie said.

“And the Skrull refugees Fury is harboring.” I added mildly.

Miles looked between us. “Wait. Aliens?”

“Several." I replied.

Margo stepped closer. “You created two independent FTL systems and reverse-engineered a wormhole network.”

“Yes.”

“And you named them after fictional sources.”

“Because the math works.”

Peni crossed her arms. “You realize this sounds like you just made sci-fi real out of spite.”

I shrugged. “Spite is an underrated motivator. Plus, we got to go out sooner or later.”

Peter B. stepped forward.

“You know,” he said softly, “every time I visit you, you remind me that I could’ve been you.”

I looked at him.

“But I’m happy being Spider-Man.” he continued.

Others nodded.

Miles straightened proudly.

“Well,” I said, “I was never bitten. My wife was.”

Gwen slipped beside me and kissed my cheek.

“And I wouldn’t have my nerdy twink any other way.”

I snorted.

“Neither would I.” Gwen-65-B said, kissing Scarred Peter.

Uncle Ben of 65-B sighed dramatically. “I feel ancient.”

Aunt May 65-B hugged him. I turned toward the chamber at the center of the lab.

Azmuth’s teleporter design had been… educational. With Clanker’s assistance, we scaled it up.

Blue energy hummed.

“Where are we going?” Miles asked.

“Field demonstration.” I replied.

“Of what?!” Margo demanded.

“Slipspace transition.” Half the room froze.

“Relax,” I added. “Micro-hop. From Europa to the Alpha Centauri system.”

“That’s not relaxing!” Ganke yelped.

The chamber powered up.

Blue light enveloped us.

Spatial coordinates folded.

There’s a moment as always right before translation where reality feels thin.

Like you’re standing on the edge of a page someone’s about to crumple.

Then...

We were gone.