On the upside, we were able to get the Garda off the ship without blowing ourselves into oblivion.

On the downside, however, this is the most I’ve managed to piss off Jahdra yet. When she realized what I’d done, she was, in a word, livid.

I do feel guilty about putting the ship in danger, but I didn’t see another way out of the situation. And seeing Jahdra come staggering into the engine room in the state she was in after those two asshole Garda were through with her…well, I guess I don’t feel that guilty for what I did. I’m just glad we got rid of them when we did, before they could do any more damage.

Luckily, we managed to eject the contaminated fuel and get the filtration system back online without causing any permanent engine damage. It was a risk, to be sure, but we pulled it off, giving Jahdra enough time to get clear of the Vanguard ship. Still, I can’t forget the way she looked at me, with such vitriol, such disgust at what I’d done. It hurt. It hurt that she couldn’t see that I was only trying to protect her. It’s going to be a long road to gain her trust, if it’s even possible at this point.

“She was pretty mad, huh?” Shae says, scrunching up her nose.

“That’s…an understatement,” I reply.

After the incident, Jahdra stormed off, and the rest of us headed back to our quarters, tails between our legs. The best thing we can do now is stay out of her way and hope that she doesn’t decide to send up packing. One thing’s for certain though: she’s changed heading—we’re no longer heading toward Alpha. The captain herself hasn’t said anything about it, where we’re going or why. But I know this ship well enough to know that we’re on a different course.

“Let me ask you something,” Shae says, tapping her foot gently in rhythm to the music playing over the ship’s speakers.

“If the engine was overheated, how were we able to clear the Vanguard so quickly? I mean, once we purged the fuel, we would’ve been sitting ducks until the engine had a chance to recover. And even then, it seems like they should’ve been able to catch up with us pretty easily as soon as they realized we were on the move.”

“There’s another engine system,” I answer almost automatically. “It runs independently of the first.”

Shae furrows her brow, considering this.

“And you knew about it?”

I nod.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have suggested contaminating the fuel line otherwise.”

Shae nods slowly, weighing this new information, no doubt wondering how exactly I knew about the other engine system.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she says, after a few minutes’ silence, reaching over and picking up the book from the desk.

Uh oh. Something in her tone says I’m not going to like what comes next.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“I know I made a promise to help you,” she says, thumping the book in her hands, “and I’m prepared to stand by that. I do want to help you, but—” She looks down and flips through the pages. “Something about this, it’s…I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “Something doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. I try to keep my voice neutral, but I’m starting to get the feeling I should be bracing myself for a fight.

“This is my handwriting,” Shae says, studying the back of the book. “These are my notes, my work. So why don’t I remember writing it?” She asks, looking up at me questioningly.

I feel my heart drop at this. She has a point, and it’s not one that’s easy to argue with.

“Maybe it didn’t seem important at the time,” I say with a shrug. It seems a reasonable enough explanation, and if I act cavalier enough about the whole thing, maybe she’ll let it go. The last thing I want is for her to change her mind and back out of our agreement.

“I mean, maybe,” Shae says, “but this is complicated stuff. It’s not like I make a habit of writing neural pathway reconfiguration codes in the back of Asimov novels.” She scoffs, tossing the book back onto the desk.

Actually, it’s a series of short stories, I want to retort. But instead I say:

“If you’ve changed your mind—”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Shae cuts in. I can tell she’s just as frustrated as I am right now. We’re both convinced that we know what’s best, but I guess the truth of it is that neither of us really has any idea.

“Just hear me out,” Shae says.

“I’m listening,” I reply coolly, crossing my arms.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” she says, taking a deep breath. “What if these forced neural pathways—these shortcuts, if you will—What if they’re not what you think they are? What if they’re, I don’t know, something else?”

I’m unsure of what she’s getting at. She’s being vague, elusive. I guess now I know how it feels.

“I’m not sure I follow,” I admit.

Shae shift uneasily in her chair.

“You’re convinced that if I follow these notes, if I make these modifications to your neural structure, something good will happen—things will suddenly make sense and you’ll get all the answers you’re looking for, right?” Shae asks.

“Sure,” I answer.

It feels like an oversimplification, but I guess that’s the gist of it.

“So, what if the goal of these modifications, these forced neural pathways isn’t the restoration or creation of cognitive input like you expect?” Shae asks.

She waits for me to react, but I draw my brow together in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “What else would the goal be?”

“Look, you’ve said that some of your memories are already returning, right? That things are starting to come back to you.”

“What’s your point?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice.

“Maybe all you need is time,” Shae says. “It can be hard at first, after your systems are restored, and…” she trails off.

Why is she having such a hard time with this?

I stand, pacing toward the opposite side of the room. It’s true, I’m clinging to the hope that all the answers I’m looking for are right at my fingertips. I don’t want to wait to find out if my dreams are really just dreams. I don’t want to wait to find out if I’m right or wrong. I don’t want to wait for the truth of my past, the truth of my future to slowly reveal itself. If there’s a hard truth I have to accept, I’d rather get it the easy way.

Shae squirms, trying, unsuccessfully it seems, to get comfortable in her chair.

“Just…think about what’s at stake,” she says. “It could change you. You could lose a part of yourself that you can’t get back.”

I walk over to the desk where the books lies and pick it up, bending it in my hands.

“Why keep it then?” I ask, holding the book up. “Why create these notes, these codes, these instructions, whatever they are in the first place? What’s the point?”

Shae shakes her head.

“I don’t know,” she says, dropping her eyes. “I wish I did, but I don’t.” She pauses, biting her lip.

“I’m just worried that…Well, what if the point isn’t to make you understand something, to remember something?”

She looks up now, meeting my eye.

“What if it’s to make you forget?”