Passing through the three-meter-high portal is as easy as walking beneath a waterfall, minus the getting-wet part. One second, I’m in my lab in Alaska and the next I’m 5.9 trillion miles from Earth.

It takes a few seconds for my vision to be restored. The intense brightness is unexpected, and something to remember for the next trip. After blinking several times, I stare out through my helmet into the new world I’ve discovered. It will be I, Rebecca Sue Elliott, recorded in the history books as the first human to leave our solar system.

The sky is gray, and there’s a dreary overcast as a shallow fog drifts over the fractured rock surface. Shaking off the lingering sensation of pins and needles prickling beneath my skin, I face the portal and catch it wavering at the edge. A few seconds later, the whole thing shrinks inward an inch.

I want to call my team, tell them to hurry, but our comms only work within close proximity. Not between galaxies.

When I stole the prototype blueprints to an intergalactic transportation device from the United World Defense building eight years ago, I never imagined that I’d actually get the thing working. With a few tweaks, of course. I only took the plans because my boyfriend, Harry, dared me. Getting into the building was easy. My grandfather is one of the High Generals. Now, eight years later, that dare changed my life. I achieved what the United World Defense scientists couldn’t, and I’m not about to share the secrets of my success with anyone.

I set my nylon backpack and metal briefcase down against a row of low rock spires barely taller than me. While I wait for the others, I open the Notes app on my tablet and tap the Record icon.

“This is Rebecca Sue Elliott, reporting a successful cross between Gateway portals. I’m standing on the superterran planet, or what we’re calling Light-Year Planet One, or LYP-1 for short.” Facing the direction behind me, I continue my report. “The fragmented rock surface stretches out flat, but there’s a thin layer of white fog drifting at a steady pace. Once the team is here and we set up this end’s Gateway equipment, we’ll be able to explore the area.”

Lifting my arm, I read my vitals displayed on the forearm-length screen embedded in my space suit. “Heart rate is seventy-six beats per minute, breathing rate is slightly higher than expected at eighteen breaths per minute, and current body temperature is at 98.8˚F. Oxygen levels are good at ninety-six percent. Upon arrival, I experienced two physical side effects: delay in eyesight and compression of sensory nerves in my arms and legs. Both were short lived and tolerable.”

The flickering of light in my peripheral grabs my attention, and I turn to see the portal shrink inward another inch.

Come on. Hurry up, I think, hoping my thoughts can somehow will their way across the stars and into my team members’ heads back in Alaska.

Seconds pass, and I worry the portal may close sooner than we expected, but then someone emerges from the wavering wall of light. If they followed my lineup, this should be my biologist-slash-medic, Shivani.

With her backpack in her hands, she calls out, “Rebecca? Where are you? I can’t see anything.”

“Here, let me take your med-pack while your eyes adjust. It’ll only take a few seconds. As will the pins and needles.”

“That was a rush,” she says, smiling as she blinks.

“What took you so long?”

Her gaze finally finds me, and she smiles again, looking over my shoulder and then at the world around us. “Trip was double-checking one of his calculations with Carter.”

It was a little late to be double-checking anything, especially since I’d already left. Daniel, my second-in-command and supply chain manager, arrives next, giving me no time to dwell on my annoyance with Trip.

“Hey, old man. You made it.”

“Hilarious,” he says over the comms. “Why can’t I see anything?”

I explain the side effects, including their duration, to Daniel while leading him out of the path of the cargo containers, which should be coming through next. One of the oversized containers appears, and Shivani and I pull it away from the portal. Even though it’s on wheels, it’s still heavy to move.

“The gravity must be stronger here,” she tells me. “Not by much, but I can tell a difference.”

She’s right. I hadn’t realized it before, but my steps feel as if I’ve got a two-pound ankle weight strapped on.

“I can take it from here,” Daniel says over the comms. He’s got his tablet out and the containers’ remote-access app open. Ten gray tiles, one for each of the cargo containers, display across the screen. As each of the containers comes through, its coordinating tile lights up green. Daniel activates the transport mode and steers the cargo out of the way. After all ten arrive safely, the last two team members, Trip and Rooster, appear. As with Shivani and Daniel, they all have dual job titles. This way I have a minimal crew for this secret project and because of Harry’s tight budget. Trip’s both our astrologer and geologist, while Rooster’s our explorer and survival expert.

I’m about to give them both the welcome speech about the side effects when a sixth person walks through the portal. Seconds later, the portal shrinks in another inch.

“What the hell?” I ask, stepping in front of the person, thinking Carter disobeyed orders and came along. To my surprise, it isn’t Carter, but Harry. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“Uh, there’s no way I was going to miss out on this trip,” he says, chuckling while his eyes blankly stare up. He pats my arms until his gloves reach my helmet. “I wish I could see the look on your face right now.”