Dilation

I'd never make the birth unless I went hyperluminal. Doable, but frowned upon.

27 lightyears away my wife labored in a stand-alone lying-in holodome on subsurface Enceladus. Her art-intels readied her for parturition.

Although kept apprised in realtime via quantumly enwrangled InstaTalk®, talking and getting there were two different things.

I may not understand all the goings-on in the tech I use; I just know GO and STOP. And HOW FAST? And maybe a trick or two.

For me, faster's better; she's already 7 centimeters dilated. The InstaTalk® is still open; I hear her wails. Such angst just makes me want to go faster.

And faster it will be!

I retrieve my dark-matter prism on board, black market and totally badass. Just shining my Inflazor® through it catapults me along at faster than light. I don't understand it, but I need it.

I use it.

Faster than the speed of light I leap. With my illegal prism, I'm mixing tachyons with anti-tachyons and I'm movin' at the speed of dark. She's gotta be 9 centimeters now. I put a magnifying glass between the dark-matter prism and my Inflazor®, and I'm the fastest pandimensional man alive!

Suddenly, a disturbing, descending drone signals the worst news: we're slowing.

No, we're being stopped.

Alongside us is a Law Enforcer. His ChanglingDock® modifying negatively to my own, he boards my ship. I am in trouble.

"Where's the fire?" he asks.

"What seems to be the trouble, officer?" I ask innocently.

"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"

"I think it's my cruise-control. I must get that fixed."

"Oh, really?" he says. "Sir, you know that little 'E = mc-something' thing?"

"I've heard of it."

"186,000 miles/second. It's not just a good idea--IT'S THE LAW!" He's shouting.

"Officer, my wife's in labor, and I want to make the birth. Don't wanna miss another one. I mean, if you think I'm trouble now..."

"There's a reason no one goes that fast."

"I know."

"You don't. Need any Parmesan for your spaghettification? I wasn't even born five minutes ago, by your clock. Slow down!"

I had fretted the wrong dilation. No rush now, since all of my great-great-great-grandchildren are long dead.