Sunborn by Jeffrey Carver

is not a nebula, but an extremely complex spacetime fluctuation, as Napoleon and Copernicus noted. I wanted you to have a look at it as early as possible. I think it might be to our advantage to attempt contact, when it gets closer.”
        “Contact?” Bandicut glanced nervously at the others.
        Ik made a sound deep in his throat. “Hrrm. A spacetime fluctuation, which we should contact? John Bandicut, this robot Jeaves has a strange sense of humor.”
        Bandicut frowned. “I haven’t noticed that it has any  sense of humor. Jeaves?”
        Jeaves’s disembodied voice answered, “I believe that what you see is a being, and not a simple astronomical object.”
        “Uh—okay. And how would we—?”
        “I am not entirely certain. But Delilah is something of a spacetime fluctuation herself. She may be able to help, when the time comes.”
        “I see,” said Antares. “And when will that be?”
        “Possibly within the next ship-day. Maybe two. But you may experience preliminary effects.”
        Preliminary effects? Bandicut turned back to squint into space. “Can we get a clearer image?”
        Delilah circled down from the ceiling. (What would you like?)
        “Can you magnify?” asked Ik.
        The halo didn’t answer, but the view zoomed in abruptly. The dark object was now clearly visible against the distant nebula; in fact, it looked as if they were about to plow right through it. It was roiling, turbulent, black smoke. The view zoomed in still farther, and now it looked more like a weird curtain, curling and billowing in a breeze. Bandicut felt a sudden wave of dizziness; his stomach dropped out from under him. /What’s happening?/ He felt himself falling, and grabbed for support on a railing.
        /// Ohhh...///
        Bandicut steadied himself; his breath was coming hard and fast. /You too?/
        /// Yah...don’t...know what...///
        Bandicut turned his head—slowly—to look at his companions. “Do you guys—uh—?” All of the others were swaying or groaning. Antares held her head.
        “Hrrrr-ahhhh! Can we...change the view back, please?” Ik rasped.
        Chiming softly, the halo restored the more distant view. Bandicut let his breath out slowly as the dizziness subsided. He reached out to touch Antares. “You okay? Was there—?”
        “Uuuoooll, yes,” she murmured, rubbing her temples. “Did you feel it? The presence?”
        “I just felt like I was going to keel over.”
        /// I felt its presence. ///
        “It is alive, and it is sentient,” Antares said. She still had both three-fingered hands pressed to her temples. “I think it was aware of us, but I cannot be certain.”
        Bandicut turned to the halo. “What just happened? Why did we feel faint like that?”
        (That was unexpected. Possibly, you were sensing the being’s influence on the surrounding continuum,) Delilah murmured.
        “But I thought you were just magnifying the image.”
        (Not simply magnifying. Extending our own spatial-threading field to improve the resolution. Apparently we created a linkage to those distant fluctuations.)
        Bandicut didn’t entirely follow, but decided to let it go. “Then what can you tell us about this...entity?”
        (Rather little. Our remote sensors have detected it—or something like it—in the past. We have no evidence of harmful intent.)
        “Hrrm, your robot friend urged us to contact it,” said Ik. “Was there a reason?”
        Li-Jared’s eyes narrowed to vertical gold slivers, with a tiny bar of gleaming blue across the middle. “It was not pleasant to experience. Will it continue to make us feel ill, as it gets closer?”
        (We hope not. We will attempt to compensate. And you may find that you can adapt.)
        “What do you think?” Bandicut asked Antares.
        Antares’s lips were pressed together, her eyes slitted like