Issue 3 ulpV ortex ShortStoriesMagazine P All stories complete Quantum decay An Ovi Publication 2026 Ovi Publications - All material is copyright of the Ovi & Ovi Thematic/History/Dark eMagazines Publications C Ovi eMagazines are available in Ovi/Ovi ThematicMagazines and OviPedia pages in all forms PDF/ePub/mobi, and they are always FREE. If somebody tries to sell you any Ovi eMagazine please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writers or the above publisher of this magazine. Welcome, fearless voyagers, dreamers, and explorers of the impossible! You are looking at the third issue of Ovi Pulp Vortex, a gateway to worlds where imagination outruns the speed of light, where tomor- row’s mysteries are waiting to be discovered, and where the only limit is the edge of human curiosity. From the golden age of the rock- et ship to the farthest reaches of alien galaxies, science fiction has al - ways carried a promise: that some- where beyond the familiar horizon lies a universe stranger, wilder and more astonishing than anything we have dared to imagine. This issue continues that grand tradition with ten explosive journeys into the unknown, ten tales of cosmic adventure, scientific wonders, impossi - ble inventions and unexpected laughs from the great carnival of the cosmos. Prepare yourself! Because the universe has a few surprises waiting. What happens when humanity finally meets alien intelligence... only to discover that the visitors believe Earth’s cats and dogs are editorial the planet’s true rulers? What if every star in the heavens operates under its own strange rules of reality, forcing brave explorers to learn a brand-new physics every time they cross into a new solar system? What if the greatest creation of mankind, artificial intelligence, looks into the chaos of randomness and finds not confusion, but something resembling faith? The future is full of dangers beyond laser battles and alien inva- sions. A journey through time may save civilisation, but what if every trip into yesterday costs you a piece of yourself ? A mysterious virus may not attack bodies, but the very fabric of probability itself. Your own smartphone may know tomorrow’s events but what happens when every device predicts a different future? Gravity itself may become something humanity can manufacture, purchase, and control. The ex- plorers of tomorrow may race not across oceans or continents, but across a newborn galaxy still forming its first stars. And because the universe has never respected our ideas of history, this issue also asks the most outrageous question of all: what if medi- eval Europe discovered quantum mechanics centuries before anyone expected? What if the greatest battles of the future are not fought with armies, but with the weather, the oceans, and the atmosphere of entire worlds? These are not merely stories of machines, planets, and alien civili- zations. They are stories about us. Our dreams. Our fears. Our endless hunger to understand what waits beyond the next horizon. That is the true magic of science fiction. It allows us to stand on the deck of the imaginary starship, look through the viewing screen into the darkness, and whisper the oldest question humanity has ever asked: “What is out there?” With future issues, the journey will continue. New frontiers will open. Fantasy will soon join our expedition, bringing ancient king- doms, forgotten magic, and mythical wonders into our expanding universe of imagination. But for now, the engines are powered, the coordinates are set, and the stars are calling. So turn the page, brave traveller. The cosmos is waiting. And some- where among those billions of worlds, something extraordinary is about to happen. Enjoy the travels Thanos Kalamidas The idea of writing pulp and science fiction short stories is rooted in speed, spectacle and raw imagination. It’s about capturing a wild idea; a dying planet, a talking corpse, a time-travel paradox and hurtling toward a twist ending before the reader catches their breath. The passion comes from the pulps’ hungry urgency, no room for literary preening, just visceral emotion, sharp dialogue and strange worlds built in a few thousand words. It’s the joy of the B-movie aesthetic, garish, thrill- ing and gloriously unpretentious. You write for the reader who wants rocket ships and ray guns but also for the spark of wonder that first drew you to tattered magazines and dog-eared paperbacks. That passion is pure, to entertain, to surprise and to leave them thinking, What if ? Pulp V ortex eMagazine Pulp Vortex Short Stories June 2026 Editor: T. Kalamidas Contact ovimagazine@ yahoo.com Issue 03 Contributors: Yousuf Anthony, Ophelia Baird, Lydia Mccoy, Simran Morrison, Thanos Kalamidas, Bailey Roach, Lorcan Simon, Tina John- ston, Ibrahim Ramsey, Tobias Karlen, Donna Erickson, Robin Bruce, Clara Proctor, Ryan Lau- rent, Oscar Caldwell, Dora Moyer, Otto Nicholson, Brandon Cohen, Jazmine Barnes. contents Ovi Thematic/Dark/ History eMagazines Publications 2026 Ovi’s atypical pulp stories eMagazine Editorial 3 The geometry of burning glass 9 The sovereign bark 17 The gospel of the cosmic dice 25 The price of the yesterdays 33 Quantum decay 41 The parallax rig 49 Heavy is the light 55 The Ignis run 63 The alchemist of the unseen 69 Sky-breaker 79 T he stellar-entry alarm didn’t ring; it hummed a low, sub-audible major third that vibrated directly inside the marrow of Captain Vane’s teeth. That was the first sign. In the Sol system, sound was a me- chanical wave requiring air. Here, in the uncharted perimeter of the system designated Variable-88, sound had mass, and gravity was a polite suggestion subject to vi- sual observation. “Visual confirmation on the primary star,” First Officer Kael barked, his fingers flying across a console that was rapidly altering its tactile density. “Sensors show a class-A white dwarf, but local physical constants are shifting faster than the navigational com- puter can calculate. Mass-energy equivalence is corrupted, Cap- tain!” “Give me specifics, Kael!” Vane strapped himself tighter into the helm harness. Across the bridge, light was no longer trav- elling in straight lines; it bent into tight, spiralling helixes like glow- ing threads spooling through the air. “What is the physical law here?” “Kinetic energy is tied to co- lour spectrum,” Engineer Osei yelled from the lower gallery. She scrambled up the metallic ladder, but every time her green cov- eralls caught the shifting over- head lights, her velocity doubled. “Look out!” Osei shot across the bridge like a launched cannonball, crashing into the bulkhead. The impact didn’t break her ribs; in- stead, the blue hull absorbed her momentum and converted it into The geomeTry of burning glass a deafening, chime-like pitch that rattled the glass displays. “Red slows you down! Blue ac- celerates!” Osei gasped, peeling herself off the wall. Her face was flushed crimson. “Captain, if the thrusters output orange flame, we’re going to stall. If they run blue-hot, we’ll tear through the event horizon before we can turn!” “Manual control!” Vane yelled, grabbing the thruster levers. The leather on his gloves was turning a sickly violet, and instantly his arms felt like lead anchors. “Kael, redirect the primary power grid through the external thermal fil - ters! Filter the hull window tints to pure amber ...now!” Outside the armored viewport, the void was a swirling vortex of neon geometric shapes. The star Variable-88 wasn’t a sphere of plasma; it was a vast, dodecahe- dral diamond that pulsed with light, refraining from emitting warmth. Instead, heat was gen - erated whenever objects touched cold surfaces, and cold radiated from fire. “Proximity alert!” Kael’s voice strained as he reached for the optical filters. His white uniform sleeve caught the glare of the star, sending his hand lurching forward with terrifying speed. He hit the control board hard enough to shatter the casing, but the amber emergency shield de- scended across the main view- port just in time. The chaotic velocity bled away. The ship, the Wayfarer IV , shud- dered violently, settling into a heavy, agonizingly slow drift. In - side the bridge, the ambient light shifted to a warm, dim copper. “Status?” Vane panted, his chest heaving as the leaden weight in his limbs receded. “We’re in stable orbit,” Kael reported, wiping a mixture of sweat and clear liquid from his forehead, liquid that was flowing upward toward his hairline rather than down his cheeks. “But our plasma drives are utterly inert. Under this system’s rules, ther- mal combustion absorbs veloc- ity instead of generating thrust. We’re trapped in this gravity well unless we can figure out how to move without heat.” “We move with cold,” Osei realized, leaning against the con- sole. She pointed to the external temperature gauges. “Look at the radiator fins. They’re glowing bright white, radiating sub-zero coolant into space. Every time the temperature drops out there, the ship jumps forward by three kilometers!” “An inverted thermodynam- ic drive,” Vane muttered. He looked at the main tactical board. A cluster of crystalline asteroids was drifting toward them from the dark side of the star. They weren’t just rocks; they were hy- per-dense structures of frozen light, tumbling end over end, casting shadows that possessed physical weight. “Shadow incoming!” Kael yelled. “Port side!” The shadow of a massive as- teroid swept over the Wayfarer’s left wing. The instant darkness fell upon the hull, the metal didn’t cool, it expanded violently with the force of a detonation. The port manoeuvre thrusters sheared off with a screech of tearing steel. “Brace for impact!” Vane roared. The ship spun into a rapid roll. Sunlight and shadow flickered across the bridge like a strobe light. Every time a shadow hit the hull, the ship slammed as if struck by a physical battering ram. Every time the sunlight hit, the hull contracted, shrieking un- der immense vacuum tension. “We need to balance the light exposure!” Osei screamed over the noise of twisting metal. “If we stay in the light, the ship crushed itself into a tin can! If we stay in the dark, we explode from internal pressure!” “Kael, deploy the reflective sails!” Vane commanded, un- buckling his harness. He float - ed... no, he was dragged sideways toward the nearest light source as he reached for the manual over- ride panel. “The sails are torn!” Kael re- plied, his face illuminated by the flickering console. “The shad - ow-weight broke the deployment arms!” “Then we improvise!” Vane unlatched the emergency flare box on the bulkhead. In normal space, these flares burned mag - nesium at four thousand degrees. Here, igniting one would pro- duce a localized pocket of abso- lute zero and intense shadow. “Captain, if you strike that in- side the bridge...” Osei warned. “It’s not for the bridge,” Vane said. He sprinted toward the air- lock, keeping his eyes locked on the red floor striping to maintain a controlled pace. “Osei, gear up! We’re going out on the hull to manually freeze the pitch control systems!” Three minutes later, Vane and Osei stepped out onto the exte- rior hull of the Wayfarer IV . The void around them was breathtak- ing and horrifying. Variable-88 hung above them, a geometric god of polished glass, casting ra- zor-sharp lines of light across the universe. Space wasn’t black here; it was a deep, velvet purple that hummed with a resonance they could feel in their boots. “Rope in!” Vane shouted through the comms. His voice sounded like crisp, dry paper tearing. They hooked their magnetic cables to the guide rail. Below them, the port engine nacelle was crumpled, its coolant pipes spewing frozen blue vapour that instantly formed intricate, crys- talline trees in the vacuum. “The asteroid shadow is com- ing around again!” Kael’s voice crackled through their helmets from the bridge. “Impact in fif - teen seconds!” Vane saw the dark wall sweep- ing across space toward them, a pitch-black blade of non-light that sliced through the star’s ra- diance. “Osei, prime the flares! When that shadow hits us, we fire them directly into the dark spot on the starboard hull! We match pressure with anti-pressure!” “If the math is off by a fraction, the hull will frac- ture!” she shout- ed back, raising the heavy me- chanical launch- er. “In this sys - tem, math isn’t calculated, it’s survived!” Vane yelled. The shadow struck. The hull beneath their feet in- stantly ballooned outward with a groan that rattled their teeth. The metal bowed, rivets popping like gunshots into the void. Vane was thrown backward, his cable snap- ping taut as he dangled over the abyss of purple space. “Now, Osei! Fire!” Osei pulled the trigger. Three magnesium flares shot into the advancing darkness. Instead of brilliant fire, three spheres of pitch-black, frost-inducing ener- gy erupted against the hull. The localized freez- ing forced the metal to contract at the exact milli- second the shad- ow’s expanding force reached its peak. The two op- posing forces cancelled each other out in a violent, silent shockwave. The hull stabilized, ringing like a massive tuning fork. “It worked!” Osei gasped, her breathing ragged. “The hull held!” “Don’t celebrate yet!” Vane pulled himself up the guide ca- ble, his arms burning with ex- ertion. “We used the shadow to neutralize the light, but we still need escape velocity! Kael, what’s our trajectory?” “We’re falling into the star’s central axis!” Kael replied. “And Captain... the center of the star isn’t plasma. It’s an absolute void! It’s pulling us in through negative mass!” Vane looked down at the do- decahedral star. At its geometric center lay a hollow core, perfect- ly square, radiating nothingness. The ship was accelerating toward it, drawn not by gravity, but by the absence of reality itself. “Osei, vent the main coolant tanks!” Vane ordered, making his way back to the airlock hatch. “All of them?” she asked, shocked. “We’ll have no life sup- port cooling left!” “We vent them out the stern,” Vane declared. “Maximum cold equals maximum forward veloc- ity. We’re going to ride the ther- mal collapse right through the center of that star!” They scrambled back inside, slamming the airlock sealed just as the ship tipped downward into the star’s light-funnel. Vane lunged into the pilot’s chair, se- curing his straps with frantic ef- ficiency. “Coolant dump in three... two... one... Dump!” Osei smashed the emergency release switch. Giga-litters of liquid nitrogen and supercooled helium explod- ed from the stern exhausts. In the weird physics of Variable-88, this massive loss of heat didn’t freeze the ship—it hurled the Wayfarer IV forward at incomprehensible speeds. The ship transformed into a streak of pure, icy mo- mentum, cutting straight through the diamond facets of the white dwarf. The bridge filled with a blinding, soundless light. For a single second, time ran backward: Vane saw his spoken words un- spool from the air, the popped rivets on the outer hull flying back into their sockets, the sweat returning to Kael’s forehead. Then, with a deafening snap like a breaking bowstring, the universe righted itself. The blinding glare vanished. The harsh amber filter on the viewport faded. Outside lay the quiet, familiar darkness of deep interstellar space, speckled with distant, friendly pinpricks of light. The console displays flickered, returned to standard binary code, and hummed with the predict- able, steady frequency of normal electricity. Kael let out a long, trembling breath. “Sensors back to nor- mal. Mass-energy equivalence restored. Velocity... twenty thou- sand kilometers per second and dropping. We’re out. We’re in in- tersystem space.” Osei slumped in her seat, star- ing at her hands. “My clothes are green again. And they don’t make me run fast.” Vane unbuckled his harness, standing up on solid, predictable iron decks held firm by standard artificial gravity. He walked over to the star chart display, reaching out to tag the system they had just escaped with a red hazard icon. Download for FREE, here! History, Mystery, Fiction & Flair All Under One Roof. One Click! Get every single issue of four iconic magazines: a thematic deep-dive, a history chronicle, a pulp fiction thrill ride, and a short story treasure trove. Complete collections, zero missing editions. Your ultimate library starts here. Grab the complete set today! It’s just one click away! we cover every issue! https://ovithematicmagazines.wordpress.com/ The warship Indomitable Star hung invisibly in the upper strato- sphere above a leafy suburb in Surrey, its stealth cloaking bend- ing the pale morning sunlight around its gleaming hull. On the bridge, Commander Vraxx of the Zalthorian Hegemony adjusted his optical enhancers, staring in- tensely at the main holo-screen. Beside him, Intelligence Special - ist Kael tapped furiously on a glowing console, cross-referenc- ing biometric telemetry gathered over three planetary rotations. “Are you absolute in your as- sessment, Kael?” Vraxx asked, his mandibles twitching with suppressed apprehension. “The bipedal creatures possess vast cities, electrical grids, and rudi- mentary space travel. Yet you claim they are not the dominant species?” “It is beyond doubt, Supreme Commander,” Kael replied, pro- jecting a live feeds-array onto the central platform. “Observe the behavioural hierarchy. The bi- peds are merely a servant caste— an engineered workforce dedicat- ed entirely to the comfort, main- tenance, and adoration of the true rulers.” The screen flickered, showing a middle-aged human named Ar- thur walking down a cobblestone path. Attached to his hand via a thick leather tether was a golden retriever named Buster. “Look closely at the control apparatus,” Kael pointed out, highlighting the leather strap. “The quad-pedal overlord keeps its bipedal thrall on a strict leash, guiding its movement through the territory. And observe this ritual!” The sovereign bark The screen zoomed in as Bust- er paused beside a manicured hedge to relieve himself. Arthur immediately produced a small black plastic bag, carefully col- lected the waste, and tied a neat knot in the top before carrying it with extreme reverence. Vraxx gasped, his three eyes widening in visceral horror. “By the Great Nebula... the servant collects the bodily excretions of the master with its bare hands! Such complete, humiliating sub- jugation! The quad-pedals rule this world with an iron paw.” “Indeed, Commander,” Kael said grimly. “Furthermore, our audio sensors indicate that when the quad-pedals issue short, loud acoustic blasts which our lin- guam-drives translate as woofs, the bipedal thralls immediately open doors, offer high-protein rations, or rub the overlords’ bellies in acts of desperate pacification.” Vraxx leaned back, placing a gauntleted hand over his breast- plate. “We must make contact immediately. If we are to annex this sector, we must negotiate di- rectly with the Sovereign Beast. Prepare the landing party. We strike for First Contact in the garden of Sector 7-B.” Ten minutes later, the air in Arthur’s back garden shimmered with heat. A low hum vibrated through the hydrangeas as three heavy assault-shuttles uncloaked, crushing a flowerbed of prized begonias. The boarding ramp slammed down, and Command- er Vraxx stepped out in full tita- nium-alloy battle armour, flanked by six heavily armed Zalthorian honour guards carrying plasma lances and ceremonial surrender scrolls. Inside the kitchen, Arthur was pouring himself a cup of Earl Grey tea when the back garden burst into neon purple light. “What on earth?” he muttered, dropping his favourite mug onto the counter. Buster, who had been sleeping soundly on the rug, sprang up instantly. His ears perked, his tail thumped against the dishwasher like a rhythmic war drum, and he let out a resounding, booming bark. “Hostile sonic resonance!” Kael yelled through the tactical comms, ducking behind a rose- bush. “The Overlord has detect- ed our presence! It is sounding the war alarm!” “Stand your ground!” Vraxx roared, stepping onto the patio glass doors. With a swift kick of his armoured boot, he shattered the lock and stepped into the kitchen. “Greetings, Sovereign of the Blue Sphere! I am Com - mander Vraxx! We come seeking peace!” Buster did not retreat. Instead, he trotted right up to the seven- foot-tall reptilian alien, his tail wagging furiously. He reached into his basket, snatched a bright yellow, squeaky tennis ball, and dropped it squarely onto Vraxx’s polished boot. “Commander! Watch out!” an honour guard shrieked, raising his weapon. “It has deployed a spherical kinetic payload!” “Hold your fire!” Vraxx com - manded, sweat beads forming on his brow. He looked down at the yellow sphere, which was thor- oughly coated in thick, viscous saliva. “It... it tests my valour. It has offered a challenge of strength. If I fail to return the kinetic core, it will obliterate us.” Vraxx carefully bent down, picked up the slimy tennis ball, and hurled it with all his might down the hallway. Buster barked in pure ecstasy. He sprinted off like a furry yellow missile, skidding wildly across the linoleum flooring, knocking over a hat stand, and slamming into a decorative sideboard with a thun- derous crash before scrambling back with the ball. “Merciful stars,” Kael whis- pered into the comms, his voice trembling. “The speed! The sheer disregard for structural integrity! It smashed its own fortress wall just to demonstrate its kinetic ve- locity!” “A terrifying show of force,” Vraxx agreed, wiping drool from his gauntlet. “It communicates through raw power.” At that moment, Arthur burst into the kitchen carrying a plastic dustpan, his face pale with abso- lute shock. “What... who are you people?! What have you done to my patio?!” Vraxx instantly aimed his plasma lance directly at Arthur’s chest. “Silence, low-caste biped! Speak not in the presence of your master! We know your place in the planetary order!” Arthur blinked, terrified. “My... my master? I’m just an ac - countant!” “Do not attempt to deceive us, thrall!” Vraxx sneered. “We saw you carrying the Sacred Waste Bag! You are nothing but a humble servant to the Sovereign Bark!” Before Arthur could process the insane sentence, a quiet, rhythmic clicking sounded on the kitchen tiles. From the shadows of the liv- ing room stepped Barnaby. Barn- aby was a sixteen-pound, orange tabby cat with a missing left ear and an expression of profound, unadulterated disdain for the en- tire universe. Barnaby ignored the giant armoured aliens completely. He strolled past Vraxx’s boots, stretched his hind legs with ago- nizing slowness, and then effort- lessly leapt onto the high kitchen counter. He sat down right be- side the toaster, wrapped his tail neatly around his paws, and nar- rowed his green eyes at the aliens.