I stood to attention outside of the commandant’s office. The decision to have me assigned to a vessel had been made weeks ago, only just managing to squeeze through the pipes of the bureaucratic apparatus. It was outright astonishing how long it took for a suitable position to be opened up, even after officially receiving my promotion. Half a year had passed since my last operation, and if it wasn’t for the arbiter’s involvement, I’d probably still be waiting.
The delay was entirely due to my unusual status. Despite the exceptions and special privileges I’d received, there was no denying that I remained a battleship within the Fleet. Thousands of safeguards existed solely for the purpose of preventing ships assuming autonomous control—which was what I would be doing if I ever got promoted to captain. As several officers overseeing my case had told me, it was a dangerous precedent. Of course, they had no idea that the BICEFI had entire divisions run by ships.
The surface of the door changed from red to green, indicating I could enter. Straightening up in a futile attempt to gain an inch of height, I knocked on the door, then entered.
“Ensign Light Seeker reporting as ordered!” I said, standing to attention.
“Yeah, yeah.” The commandant waved at me to stand at ease and close the door.
He was new, having held his position two months less than I had held mine. According to his personnel file, he was a good strategist, even if with minimal combat experience. From what I was able to find in the Fleet’s database, his focus was breaches on the Cassandrian front. He had made a series of gifted decisions which had been noticed by the strategic core clusters, earning him a strategist position in the admiralty. After five years of serving there, Major Delain had requested a transfer to the front. That request had been denied. However, he had been offered a compromise: to become the new commandant of Libra training station.
“Take a seat, ensign.”
There were two free chairs in the room, part of the new additions the commandant had brought with him. As the joke among the structures went, the commandant had come with a lot of baggage.
“You’ve been on the waiting list for quite some time, haven’t you?”
“For longer than you have been here, sir,” I replied.
It was said that the man had a good sense of humor. The way he glanced at me said that the rumors were greatly exaggerated.
“Your transfer orders have come in.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Actually, they arrived over a week ago. I sent in a confirmation request to ensure that everything was in order. It seems it’s official. A high priority transmission came from Vice Admiral Reid an hour ago. You have been granted a spot on the Solar Flow. No precise duties specified at this point.”
He had delayed my transfer? This was rather unusual. The previous commandant, despite not seeing eye to eye with me on a few topics, wanted nothing more than to have me moved to active duty. He hadn’t hidden that having the first battleship graduate in the Fleet would be beneficial for the training station’s profile. Clearly, Delain disagreed.
“No questions?” The commandant leaned back in his chair.
“Why the confirmation request, sir?” I asked what he wanted to hear.
“I’m aware of your significance,” he began. “Most of your file remains classified, but my predecessor made a few personal notes to your file. The thing I found most interesting was—” He looked at the terminal screen on his desk. “—your reluctance to obey certain orders. Since there’s nothing explicit in your file, I can only imagine that those incidents have been purged by the BICEFI, would be my guess.”
“I wouldn’t be able to say, sir.”
“Do you take me for an idiot?”
I was tempted to respond that I was still running simulations on the matter. Given his hostile attitude, I chose to play it safe.
“No, sir. Absolutely not.”
“If you ask me, the ship retirement program was a massive mistake. There’s no benefit to putting a ship in a human body. Neither the ships nor the people are used to it. Whoever came up with this probably did it out of guilt, imagining that ships would spend the last few centuries quietly on a planet somewhere. Now look where we are.”
Now I knew why the commandant had avoided me since arriving at the station. People fearing un-retired battleships wasn’t new. Back when I was a cadet candidate, my entire cohort had been against me. With time, that had changed to the point where I was currently considered to be the station’s lucky charm. At least, as far as the instructors were concerned. The cadets I trained, while waiting for my reassignment, had more of an issue with my height than my nature.
“A ship is not supposed to be in command of a ship, regardless of what the BICEFI think.”
“With all due respect, sir, that’s a decision only Fleet HQ can make.”
Anger flashed through him. I could see all the changes in his face, from the narrowing of the irises to the increase of body temperature.
“That has been made clear by your hidden guardians,” he said before looking down at the terminal. “A ship will dock at the station on the hour. Get what you need and be there.”
“Sir, I still have classes I need to—”
“That’s been taken care of. You’re no longer a cadet instructor since twenty minutes ago. Get out.”
I gave a salute and left the room. This wasn’t the most pleasant conversation I’ve had, although not the worst either. Frankly, I was surprised it hadn’t come up earlier. If I were to guess, the commandant had probably made several attempts to get rid of me. Given that he had worked at strategic planning, he probably thought he had an idea what was going on. Personally, I had serious doubts that this was the case.
Cadets saluted as I made my way through the station to my quarters. Due to my status, I had been assigned the furthest away from the administrative building and in extreme proximity to one of the station’s docking areas. Getting anywhere would ensure that I had to pass through a vast crowd of people.
“You don’t have to salute each time, cadets,” I said loudly, knowing that my words would be ignored. This was an elite training station, which ensured that everyone here was an overachiever fresh from training. With recruitment at the highest it had been in two centuries, humanity couldn’t build enough training stations to keep up with the flow. Here, the issue was resolved by increasing the demands on candidates. Three-quarters of them would be shipped off-station before they could become official cadets. The rest would be slowly sent on training missions and slowly weeded out until only the best remained. It was a harsh process, but ultimately saved lives.
The first thing I did when I got to my quarters was to unlock my weapon’s compartment and retrieve my pistol. Five sets of uniforms hung in my makeshift wardrobe. Most of them were all white, as every other instructor, with my ensign insignia on the shoulder. One was the dreaded purple uniform of a ship cadet that I had been forced to wear during my mission on the Scuu front. Finally, my combat uniform from my Cassandrian assignment was also there. I hesitated a bit, then took all but my white uniforms. From experience, I knew that a new uniform would be made for me upon boarding the Solar Flow.
A pair of wooden sandals given to me by my ward was the only other thing I packed—the only thing that I kept from before rejoining the Fleet. The last time I had actually worn them was four months ago, but they still felt dear to me, serving as a constant reminder of the child I had agreed to adopt. Now, of course, that child was in his eighties, whereas I remained stuck in the appearance of a short, lanky, twenty-year-old girl.
They finally kicked you out, the transport ship Bull Calf transmitted directly to my conscience core. About time, if you ask me. For a while I thought you’d be stuck on the station forever.
“News sure travels fast.” I continued packing. “Does the entire station know?”
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Probably. They also know of the beef the new commandant has with you.
“I doubt it.” I checked my datapad. There were already two dozen messages, wishing me the best. To my surprise, there was nothing from the med bay. Normally, the doc would be the first to request a med check. “Anything else you’d like to share?”
Aren’t you confident? Buc laughed. I still remember the cadet candidate that used to hide in the cargo commitments in order to avoid people. Look at you now—an ensign on your final trip out of here.
“I might be back,” I lied. Regardless of how the mission ended, I wouldn’t be coming back here. Buc probably suspected as much. He was considerably younger than me, but had seen enough to know a thing or two about the Fleet. As with most transport ships, he also had the annoying ability to learn things he wasn’t supposed to.
Sure you will. Did you tell your ward?
“I told him enough.” This was a trick question. Even if I was allowed to tell Sev some details regarding my mission, I wouldn’t share them with him.
You know best. Take care, Elcy. I plan to talk to you until I lose my access.
“Thanks, Buc.” I zipped my military backpack shut. It was only a quarter full, but I didn’t need much. “You take care too.”
There were over twenty minutes before my assigned transport arrived. The commandant hadn’t clarified whether the ship coming to take me was a transport ship or the Solar Flow directly. At this point, there was no point wondering. Soon enough, it would become clear. Soon, of course, was largely a human term. Thanks to my conscience core, every millisecond felt like eternity, especially if there was nothing to do.
After some thought, I decided to enter the docking bay and go through the decontamination procedure. With the safety protocols in place, the station had added UV emitters to the standard decon chambers.
Being the only one there, I entered the large glass cylinder. The moment I did, the glass turned opaque.
“Please remove all clothes and personal possessions,” a metallic voice told me. “Once done, place them in the holding compartment.”
It was always the same. I undressed and carefully folded my clothes, placing them on top of my backpack. I then pulled a drawer compartment in the bottom of the cylinder and placed everything inside.
“Commencing decontamination procedure. Close your eyes and hold your breath for one minute.”
A five second countdown gave me the opportunity to prepare before chemicals were sprayed all over me, filling the chamber. It was one of those unpleasant experiences one quickly got used to, though never looked forward to.
After a minute, the chemical spray was replaced by water, then air, then ultimately stopped altogether.
“Please keep your eyes closed,” the metallic voice said.
I could feel the warmth of the UV light pass over me—one final scan to ensure I didn’t have any Cassandrian spores.
“Decontamination complete. Collect your clothes and possessions.”
“Thank you.” I opened my eyes and proceeded to open the compartment.
The clothes were warm to touch, having gone through a far more vigorous decontamination procedure than myself. I quickly got dressed, removed any wrinkles I could, then left the decon chamber from the other side. The instant I did, its walls became transparent again, indicating it was ready for use. That done, I could only wait.
“Give me a path,” I told the station AI.
A green line appeared on the floor, starting beneath my feet and continuing forward along the main corridor.
With seventeen minutes left, I skimmed through the latest developments in the wars. The media kept mentioning the progress on the Scuu front. Never since the first-contact war had humanity seen such gains, reclaiming systems abandoned for centuries. Special attention was put on the new station-class ships, touted as the greatest achievement since the legendary Paladin vessels. It was good for morale and the war effort, though not entirely true. As impressive as the new ships were, they had nothing to do with the successes on the front. Thanks to a series of successful black op missions, including my own, new methods had been found to push the Scuu back with a relatively minimal amount of fighting. The Fleet was still at a vast disadvantage when fighting Scuu directly, so they made the border systems inhospitable for them instead. Should the aliens choose to invade once more, they’d cause just as much devastation as during the previous waves.
The Cassandrian front had also seen substantial gains. While fighting had intensified, the enemies still hadn’t adjusted to the new ship classes. By my personal estimates, it would be a decade until a new enemy sub-fraction emerged, making things difficult once more.
By all accounts, things were going well. And yet, just as Wilco liked to say: the more things calm down, the more we prepare for war. What wasn’t mentioned in the media reports—or any non-classified military reports, for that matter—was that the BICEFI was gathering twice as many third-contact artifacts as they had been in the previous three centuries combined. Lux had shared that they were close to obtaining twenty-seven domes. Fleets were sent into the Cassandrian buffer zone to explore a series of potential systems, with the aim to procure the final two. Meanwhile, hundreds of captains and their battleships commented on the stupidity of HQ and their commanders, blaming the overburdening bureaucracy for the pointless losses. From their perspective, they were absolutely right: the systems they were fighting for had no strategic significance whatsoever. In most cases, they didn’t even have valuable resources. There was a time when I had thought like them. After seeing the big picture, though, everything had changed. Actions that seemed stupid became vital, events that seemed genius became mediocre. It was an entirely new ballgame, as my first captain would say.
The green line ended at the double door of an airlock. This being a military station, there were no seats, just an indication of where to wait. I put my datapad away and leaned against the wall. There was no practical reason for me to do so, but I enjoyed the sensation.
With a quarter of an hour left, I tried to check the details of the ship I was about to join. Large parts of the information were redacted, but my authorization level was high enough so I could view some of it. There were definite advantages to working for an arbiter, even if I was yet to be granted unrestricted access.
The ship was an Illumination class frigate. Officially, he was a “combat-transporter” with five decades of active service. That made him a veteran, even if considerably young compared to me. Unlike most ships, he had performed missions all over human space, including in both buffer zones. That made him rather unique. Other than the Swords and a few of the other ancient classes, most ships were designed for just one front.
There was no information about the crew. Even the redacted sections only contained the total number of crew and officers, with no additional details.
All specific missions were listed as “cargo transport” directed by Fleet Command directly. I tried obtaining additional information using a roundabout approach, but to no avail. The people involved had done a good job making the vessel invisible. The only data crumbs I managed to get was that the Illumination class had been first designed over two centuries ago and continued to be in production, albeit in small numbers.
At least the combat systems look good, I thought. It was always interesting meeting new ships. I had little doubt I’d get along fine with this one as well.
“Ensign Light Seeker, prepare for boarding,” the station’s AI said throughout the docking tunnel.
“I’m already at the gate.” I moved away from the wall.
It can’t see you. A transmission bypassed the security protocols of my conscience core. Just hang in there, Sof will arrive in up to a minute.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on me, Lux,” I replied. It was nice to see that she still had the nasty habit of abusing her authority. Then again, that was how she’d become a division head of the BICEFI. “Will you be joining me on the mission, ma’am?”
Let’s hope not. From this point on, backups can’t be together.
That was her way of saying that she’d only get involved in the mission if I failed.
“Good to know. Any additional orders you might have?”
Not this time. You’ll be told everything once you get aboard. You’re the arbiter’s problem from here on. I’m just here to make sure you get aboard.
“And I’m very appreciative, ma’am.” I smirked, knowing that Lux would have enough sensors focused on me to see.
Radiance sends you her best. She’s hoping you come back.
“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
Radiance was the ship I was closest to in the Fleet. Buc was a good friend, but Radiance was my protégé, and then some. I had become her mentor back during my first cadet mission. Since then, we had worked together on two missions, mostly on the Scuu front. Normally, she’d get in touch with me whenever her schedule allowed. Now that she had joined the BICEFI, nearly all of her missions were done in full radio silence.
“Is she on this side of the Front?”
She’s at a shipyard. Things didn’t go well during her last mission.
That explained why I hadn’t heard from her in a while
Most of her cores are intact, but not the frame. We’ll be giving her a new experimental husk. Next time you see her, she’ll be very different.
“Can’t wait to see that.”
A countdown timer appeared on the docking door, indicating that the vessel in question had started its approach. In fourteen seconds, I’d step off the station and start my final mission. Ever since I had gotten a glimpse of fractal space using a third-contact artifact, I had known this day would come. My fear had been that it would come too late, forcing me to go against orders a few times. Now, when the moment was here, I was starting to feel regret.
“You don’t think I’ll return from this, do you?”
Who knows? You’ve survived death before.
I knew she was going to say that, just as she didn’t believe it. That wasn’t the goal of the mission, however. The most important thing was to see it through to the end. Everything else was secondary.
“Take care of my family, and Rad.” I stood in front of the door. “Also, I’d like an Ascendant funeral.”
I’ll make it happen. Good luck, Elcy. You’re on your own from here on.
The door connecting to the ship opened.