“How do you deal with the waiting?” Sof asked.

It had been over a hundred hours since we departed from the previous system. The Fleet had managed to stabilize the front, even going on a slight counteroffensive. On the surface that was good. Looking at the big picture, though, I wasn’t so sure. The number of reinforcements sent to the sector was considerable, and while they were mostly composed of new battleships, the resources could have been better utilized elsewhere. At the very least, this weakened us for the battle to come.

“I run a lot of simulations,” I lied.

The condition of the crew had greatly improved. According to all readings, they were in perfect health, only kept there by my orders. Sof didn’t miss an opportunity to remind me that I was in a gray area. Were I to wake up the captain I’d lose my current powers, and yet at the same time, while Quinn and the rest were podded, there was no one to dispute my decisions. It would have been a lot easier for me to restrict the ship's memories again and avoid the constant logical battles, but that was something I hoped I’d never have to resort to again.

“Any news from Fleet HQ?” I asked as I changed my oxygen tank—a practice I was forced to do every two days.

“You’ll know when it happens,” the ship grumbled. “All comm requests have been blocked. The only thing I’m getting is a recurring message to maintain my position.”

“That means they’re taking this seriously.”

“How did you possibly come to that conclusion? Regulations are very clear on the matter. A captainless ship is to be retrieved immediately. That’s not to mention that I have a zero priority artifact aboard.”

“That’s why I know they’re taking it seriously. I’ve seen flotillas rushed for less.” It reminded me of one of my early missions. Back then I was nothing but a rooky just starting my tour under Augustus. Seeing things from the opposite side made quite the difference. Of course, this time both the crew and the ship carrying the artifact were intact.

* * *

Equinox System, Cassandrian Buffer Zone, 605.4 A.E. (Age of Exploration)

“I must protest, Captain!” I increased the volume of my voice. “This goes against every procedure that—”

“Shut up, rookie.” Captain Augustus cut me off. “Mail me your protest drivel and get a move on!”

In less than a second, I had sent three copies of my protest to the captain, his CO, and Fleet Command. At this point, it was more a matter of principle than expecting any actual result. I had been sending protest messages since the first day he had come on board with his crew. According to my human-relations simulations, my mails should have made him address the issue or, failing that, attracted the attention of the admiralty. The only practical effect I achieved was to force the captain to clear his mailbox before going to bed.

“Messages sent,” I said in an attempt to retain a semblance of dignity. “Moving on.”

Of all the captains in known space, I had the dubious fortune to end up with him. When I first read Augustus’ personnel file, I was impressed. A veteran captain with fifty-four years combat experience and more commendations than crew members, he was the closest thing to a legend I had seen. With that amount of experience, it seemed logical that my partnership would provide me a lot of useful information, helping me become a first-class battleship. I had been so naive. The only thing the captain had shown me so far was a highly questionable vocabulary and a complete disrespect for protocol. Even his appearance was more suited to a pirate in a children’s book than a fleet officer. He refused to shave, despite being obsessed with cleanliness, never bothered with paperwork, and didn’t miss an opportunity to have organic food smuggled on board. All that was missing was an avian on his shoulder.

“Have you confirmed the source of the distress transmission?” Augustus leaned back in his chair.

“Only five times,” I grumbled. “It’s the Solar Breeze, reported to have been lost eighty-seven days ago.” Strange that the report read “lost” and not “missing.”

“Don’t give me any lip. Check again!”

“Checking.” Why are we even bothering with this? the Solar Breeze was pronounced dead forty-seven days ago. “Analyses confirmed.”

“The Sobre, huh?” Augustus scratched his chin. This was the first time I saw someone use ship shortened names properly. Most would have called her Solar. “Why doesn’t she respond?”

“It’s obviously a dead ship, sir. The rules of engagement are very clear on the matter.” I had no intention of giving up. “In case of finding a dead ship, any ship and captain should immediately inform Fleet Command and the local military Salvage Authorities. No attempt should be made to approach the ship.”

In every simulation I’d run, the virtual captain would back down when faced with such logic. Captain Augustus didn’t even flinch.

“We’re responding to a distress call.” He waved his hand above his head. Instantly, all officers on the bridge rushed to their stations, manually inputting commands on their control panels: scanning, weapon systems, viral countermeasures... “Elcy, fill up a remote shuttle with oxygen tanks and send it to the Sobre.”

“Oxygen, Captain?” I rechecked my long-range scanners. “There’s no indication that there are any survivors on board. After such an amount of time, it’s highly unlikely.”

“That’s what I get for being paired up with a rookie fresh from the shipyard.” The man sighed. “If it’s a dead ship, who set off the distress call?”

“There could be a hundred possible explanations!” I lied. In effect, I’d only managed to come up with twenty-eight, most of them involving survivors. “What if it’s a Cassandrian trap?”

“What the hell would Cassandrians use oxygen for?” the captain barked at me. “Debug your subroutines and send that shuttle!”

I sent another protest letter and did as ordered. Just in case, I also went through the Fleet’s regulations. The subsection dealing with emergency responses was also quite clear—it was every ship and captain’s priority to save lives at any cost.

It took seven minutes, thirty-one seconds to reach the Solar Breeze while flying on manual. I could have gotten us there in under five, but the captain was adamant that I only control the shuttle. The weapon’s officer had offered me a few words of encouragement, which was nice. I just wished that Aurelio Augustus would as well, someday.

“The Solar Breeze is in immediate proximity, Captain,” I said, once we went under the one-kilometer range. “Deep scan doesn’t show any enemy vessels. I’m keeping weapon systems on high alert.”

“Good. Give me a full scan of the ship.”

“Captain?” Why would I need to scan a dead ship?

“And dock the shuttle,” he went on, completely ignoring me. “Wilco, get a boarding party ready, and this time follow the damned quarantine protocols!” The captain yelled at the security chiefs. “Grab some medbots on the way.”

“I can fire some nano-missiles,” I suggested while I launched a hundred mini-sats. Within seconds they had surrounded it and started streaming data.

“Save your nanites. We might need them later.”

I didn’t understand what he had in mind but decided not to ask. The captain had a habit of explaining the things he wanted me to know while ignoring any questions he considered unimportant.

“How’s the scan going?” He stood up, moving to the bridge’s central screen.

“Underway, Captain.” I displayed an image of the ship. Now everyone could see the results in real-time.

For all intents and purposes, the Solar Breeze was a dead ship. I had never seen her before in my life, but according to her record, she was a well-liked vessel with over seventy successful missions in the last year. Most details were classified, but from what I could tell, she was a scout ship whose primary mission was to chart hostile and disputed systems. Any details regarding her disappearance were removed from the Fleet’s database, with the exception of the date.

During the war she must have done great things, but now she was a lifeless mass drifting in space. Her power reactors were completely cold, as were her engines and weapon systems. I could detect the meager presence of several backup power cells maintaining a few systems, including her distress beacon. Several breaches spanned across her hull, consistent with weapon’s fire. The spiral pattern indicated at least two enemies.

“I’m not detecting life readings,” I said as my mini-sats completed their preliminary scan. “Zero core activity. Life support is down.”

“If there are any survivors, they’d be using supplies.” The captain slid his hand along the screen. It was one of the weird habits he had. “Monitor this area.” He tapped one spot above the Solar Breeze’s cargo hold. “Wilco, get ready. We’re boarding.”

When a captain said “we,” it was generally understood that he was referring to everything under his command. During my eternity of training, my captains would often announce that “we” were jumping to a certain location or performing an exercise. When Captain Augustus said “we,” he meant that he was coming along.

“Elcy, get me three shuttles ready,” the captain ordered, making his way toward the bridge door. “Kira, you have the bridge.” He pointed in passing at the first officer. She nodded without as much as a salute. “Anything from the oxygen shuttle?”

“It’s still docked.” I didn’t know how to answer. There was no activity coming from the Solar Breeze other than the distress beacon. “Chances of survivors are very low.” I ran the numbers. We had a greater chance of jumping at a random set of coordinates and remaining alive. “Do you want my bots to unload the oxygen tanks?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Have each grab two canisters and roam the ship. I’m going to the main cargo bay.” He left the bridge. “Monitor their progress, get me my medbots, and block all external comm lines.”

The last surprised me, but I obeyed without question. Augustus’ vitals had spiked. This was the first time I had seen him react in such a fashion; it didn’t fit with the behavior pattern I had of him, and that made me concerned.

When the captain arrived in the shuttle hangar, I had three hundred medbots prepared. The number was quickly reduced to a hundred and eighty, or sixty per ship. Apparently, Augustus preferred to have the shuttles with extra soldiers rather than rescue units. The whole operation was an absolute mess! It couldn’t have been less by the book if he had tried. I waited patiently for the captain to put on his battle gear, then opened an encrypted personal line.

“Captain, I fail to see the logic in your orders,” I said, displaying more concern than criticism in my voice. “If this is a rescue operation, why is the boarding party in heavy assault gear?”

“You’re being annoying again, rookie.” His voice dropped.

“Most likely I am.” Though not nearly as annoying as you! “That doesn’t change the facts. Dead ships are the responsibility of the Salvage Authorities, even if they emit a distress signal. At present there are no indications that anyone survived, including the ship’s cores. Furthermore, the ship isn’t in enemy territory, so there’s no reason for us to get involved.”

I expected the captain to bark an order surrounded by a sea of insults. Instead, the man just sighed.

“This is the first time you’ve seen a dead ship, isn’t it, Elcy?”

“You know it is.” The question didn’t seem to make any sense. “You are my first captain.” Therefore, it’s a guaranteed impossibility for me to have seen real combat before.

“Dead ships are different.” The captain took a deep breath. “They aren’t blasted in battle or destroyed to malfunction or insurrection; they have just ceased to function.”

“Yes, that is the literal definition of what it is to die.” His explanation was even worse than his logic for boarding. “I fail to understand how that’s relevant.”

“Hope you never do.” A sigh was buried in his voice.

As the shuttles approached the Solar Breeze, I did another long-range scan. No ships or large objects were spotted. Half a minute later, the shuttle pilots initiated a manual scan as well. I didn’t like that they didn’t trust me, but I said nothing. Strictly speaking, I wasn’t part of the boarding team; however, if there was one thing that Captain Augustus had taught me so far, it was that for every rule, there was an exception. My subroutines patched into the systems of all bots on the dead ship, assuming direct control. Along with that, I quietly set everyone’s battle gear to send me full audio and video feed. Now I could see what the team was seeing, and more. So far, the bots of the support shuttle had managed to explore the main access corridor and the mess area: no sign of human presence. I had one of them defect from its standard path to check the nearest crew quarters. The door circuitry was completely inoperable.

“Hangar section’s clean, skipper,” Lieutenant Gerard Wilco said into his comm. “Setting up perimeter.”

“Keep an open escape path,” Augustus replied. “I want a fifth to remain in the shuttles, ready for takeoff.”

“Roger, skipper. Like last time.”

Last time? I searched through all my crew’s entire personnel files. Nowhere was it mentioned they had boarded a dead ship before. According to the records, they hadn’t even neared one. The last time any dead ship had been boarded by a military ship was half a century ago, back before the Fleet Salvage Bureau had been given authority over all wrecks in space.

“Elcy, keep the bots near the shuttles,” the captain ordered, marching on toward the inner hangar doors. His weapons were in active mode.

“All of them?” I paused a moment. “Does that mean I’m to stop with the rescue efforts?”

“Just those I came with,” he corrected himself. “Actually, pick one and join me. I might need your help with some of the systems.”

“There’s not much I could do with a medbot, Captain.” My subroutines issued the orders to the remaining bots. Regardless, I still remained in direct control of them. “With power gone, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Useless rookie!” the captain snapped at me. “Something’s powering the distress beacon. Stop being stupid and let’s go!”

There had been four thousand and fifty-seven court-martialed ships since the creation of a sentient fleet. Right now, my greatest fear was that I could end up being four thousand and fifty-eight. In the absence of a higher-ranking human authority, there was no way I could disobey an order, regardless of how stupid or unlawful it appeared to be. When I had started my training, there was no way I could foresee choosing between my captain and Fleet regulations.

A small team of assault troopers escorted us along the corridor to the nearest emergency stairwell. The lieutenant took another team and made his way toward the bridge. No one said a word, but from what I could tell, both were searching for the same thing.

“Any unaccounted readings?” Captain Augustus asked.

“Only the boarding party so far.” I had a few thousand of my subroutines double-check. “You are the only humans, living or dead, onboard. I haven’t spotted any human remains or DNA traces anywhere.”

“Tell me if that changes.”

We continued up until we reached deck nineteen. Meanwhile, the second team had reached the bridge and burned through the door to the Solar Breeze’s captain quarters. It was interesting that the bridge had also been abandoned. Under Fleet law, the only time that could happen was when faced with imminent danger or after initiating the self-destruct sequence.

“Weapon systems appear to have been functional,” I told the captain as one of the bots managed to break into the missile section. “Missile room one-twenty-seven remains equipped with a full battery of missiles.”

“Good. That answers one question.” The captain made a sign for two of his squad to move forward.

“What question is that?” I asked. I had barely finished when a loud clanking came from the storage doors again.

Everyone froze. All weapons pointed toward the door as I performed a new scan of the area. The walls kept blocking all my attempts. Whatever was in there, it was well hidden.

“And that answers the second.” The captain prepped his rifle. “Rookie, get ten more medbots here. We’re burning through.”

* * *

The rescue operation had created a huge impact on my development. Not so much the artifacts aboard and the organizations that competed for possession of them, but the state of the survivors aboard.

I had looked up what had become of them thanks to my current Fleet access level. All of them had survived, according to official records, but that didn’t mean they were in good condition. Seventy-six percent left the Fleet a year later. Of those that remained, most stayed in military medical facilities, just as Cass had. The rest had returned to light duties.

“I’ll go check on the captain,” I said, leaving the empty oxygen canister at the observation deck. The techbot quickly took it.

“I’m constantly monitoring her condition,” Sof sounded offended. “If there was the slightest abnormality, I would have told you.”

“I’m not going to check her condition. I’m going to see her. If you ever retire, you’ll understand.”

“That’s highly doubtful.” He didn’t clarify whether he doubted he’d understand or retire in the first place.

I made my way to the nearest elevator point. From there, Sof took me directly to the bridge deck, where the staff were podded. The captain, like all other senior officers, was moved to her quarters. The rest remained on the bridge to facilitate the efforts of the expected rescue team.

When I went up to the door to quin’s quarters, it remained closed.

“Sof, we’ve been over this,” I said. “I’m family and the active captain. In both cases regulations allow me to see her.”

The ship relent, of course, he always did. This was his way of displaying his disapproval. After precisely three thousand and five hundred milliseconds, the door opened.

There was a certain degree of strict tidiness to Quinn’s quarters. The usual furniture was there: desk, chairs, security compartment, a few decorations on the walls. No pictures of her home or family, though. That made me somewhat sad. I would have hoped that he'd think about them. There weren’t any framed diplomas of mementos of her achievements, suggesting that she didn’t particularly care about such things.

I had tried on a few occasions to look into her unrestricted personnel file, but that had a personal lock preventing me specifically from accessing all but the general sections. Even after all this time, Quinn remained sneaky.

Pausing a moment at her desk, I quickly went to the life pod she had been placed in. Sof had positioned it in the bedroom section of her quarters, in the place of the bed. I understood the logic. Looking at her through the transparent half of the pod, she seemed like sleeping comfortably. I could even see her eyelids move as she went through a R.E.M. cycle.

As I approached, readings emerged on the surface, letting me know exactly what was going on. It looked eerily similar to what Cass was like after our incident. I honestly hoped that the outcome would be different in this case. Cass was the main reason I didn’t want anyone in Sev’s family to join the Fleet.

“I told you this might happen,” I said softly, looking at Quinn’s calm face. “For all I know it already has.”

Chances of her hearing you are small. A transmission bypassed by security protocols, establishing a direct connection to my core. I didn’t need to go through my memories to know who this was.

“It’s been a while, Otton,” I said as I placed my gloved hand on the pod. “Is help on the way?”

Almost there. Med Core took their best on this one. They and BICEFI are taking point on this one, so negotiations were involved. I estimate they’ll be with you in three minutes.

“And the arbiter?”

I’m not allowed to tell you about that, the Paladin replied. He was very specific. All I can say is that you made an impression. A small council has been formed to hear what you have to say. I’d call that a win.

“I hope so. The request I’m about to make is big.” I patted the pod’s hard surface.

I can share her file if you’d like, Otton offered.

“No. If she wanted me to see it, she wouldn’t have requested the restriction.”

Does it matter? It’s not related to your mission or hers.

“If it’s not related, why do I need to know?” Still, I would have liked for her to have let me. It would have meant she had fully accepted me back in her life as a family member. “Any news on our offspring?”

Undergoing special training. That’s all I managed to learn.

“Is the info reliable?” If our offspring was undergoing training, that means the Fleet was preparing it for the war. Either that, or one of the dark organizations.

It came from an old friend.

Ironically, in this case, that wasn’t very reassuring. I would have preferred that the information had come from a less reliable source. It was always clear that a Paladin’s offspring would be quickly put in use by the Fleet, but not that fast. Hopefully, it wasn’t trained to become Otton’s replacement. Such a fate wasn’t for a battleship.

How have you been?

“Aren’t you constantly keeping track of me?”

Most of the time, but I’d thought I’d ask as well. If all goes as you’ve planned, it’ll be a while before we’re in contact again.

I knew that the conversation was purely for my benefit. As his selected he no doubt valued me, though not to a degree to miss me if anything were to happen. After all, he wasn’t human, and from his point of view, neither was I.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Depends on how the talks go. Can you keep an eye on her? I’d like to know she’ll be safe.”

She will, but yes, I’ll make sure. Do you want me to give you reports?

“Only if I ask.”

The walls of the room turned red.

“Med Core ship has entered the system,” Sof announced. “Identity handshake complete. Their captain has requested that he be put in touch with you.”

They had arrived early.

“Give me a moment to get to the bridge.” I quickly went towards the door. The display information disappeared from the pod’s surface. “Any additional orders from HQ?”

“I’m still being blocked,” the ship replied. “I’ve informed the captain that you’ll be in contact shortly.”

“Names?” I doubled my pace as I went through the corridor and onto the bridge.

“Restricted. Both captain and ship.” He didn’t sound at all pleased.

“It’s alright. I’ll deal with this. I’ll try to keep you in the conversation for as long as possible, but you may have to be thought quarantined.”

“It’s understandable. Thank you for the intention, though. I appreciate it.”

This was possibly the first time I heard genuine gratitude coming from him. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

You kids always act in the same way, I thought. “Check on the artifacts, then establish a secure link with the Med Core ship. There’s a lot to be discussed.”