With the exception of Cass, all my captains said that I couldn’t please anyone. Gibraltar had his own take, commenting that no ship could please anyone. Looking at how things had progressed, I was starting to see his point of view. The auxies weren’t pleased upon hearing the news. Even Radiance, who had kept insisting upon more exploration,was questioning the latest change in direction. I had made an attempt to explain it, citing new directives from the arbiters, but that only increased their suspicions. Deep down in their conscience cores, there was a deep-rooted belief, similar to a rule or logic cluster, that ships were neither suited nor supposed to take the responsibilities of a captain. My current behavior only confirmed their suspicions. Had I been in their place, I would probably think the same.

It was slightly ironic that by breaking free of the bureaucracy, I had become part of it. One would have thought that serving the highest authority would resolve this problem. The truth was that it only made it worse. When the stakes were the survival of the human race, there was bound to be hesitation, along with determination. The two conflicting forces merged into one, causing ever-shifting alliances depending on the situation. My mission, even my entire existence, was nothing but a compromise between arbiter factions based on analyses made by Paladins and strategy core clusters. Any seemingly insignificant defeat on the battlefront, any new discovery, or new strand of information could well tip the balance in one way or another. When that happened, priorities would shift and the bureaucratic apparatus would convey the changes along the line, annoying captains and giving crews the impression that their commanders had no idea what they were doing.

“Radiance is back,” Sof announced in his usual blend of annoyed and disapproving intonation.

“How many systems did she explore?”

The map image on the bridge wall changed, adding four new spots, all with corresponding details. None of them were affected by gravitational anomalies, reducing fears that the cloud complex might be impassable. One of the systems could even be considered valuable and stable enough to be colonized at some later point, even if it had no strategic significance whatsoever. Knowing the organizations I worked with, the BICEFI and Med Core had probably started clashing in their desire to create an outpost in the sector.

“She’s requesting a direct conversation. At this point, she might as well directly ask that I be thought quarantined.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Sof. The kid’s just not used to being out of the loop for so long.”

“She’s as much in the loop as any of us.”

That much was mostly true. The information I let trickle down was distributed among Sof and all the auxies. On a few occasions, my main ship received a few additional details, but not to the extent that Radiance should feel left out.

“What do you want me to tell her?”

“Get her to approach.” I stood up from the captain’s seat, making my way off the bridge. “I’ll go deal with it.”

“You’re going to board an auxie?” the ship asked.

“I won’t be removing you from the loop, Sof.”

“That’s hardly my concern,” he insisted. I was ninety-three percent sure he was lying. “If you board one of them, all the rest will demand that you board them as well.”

“I’m sure they have better things to do than being boarded by an unretired relic. But if they insist, I don’t see the harm in that.”

“You’re a strange captain.”

“Thanks. Prep a shuttle, and make a new spacesuit for me at decon.”

Maybe it was my attitude during the request, but I felt that the fabric of my suit uniform was substantially softer than usual. The suit itself was minimalistic, with only the most basic electronics. Considering my trip would be a few minutes, it didn’t matter much.

By the time Radiance finally approached the ship, I had been in space for over twenty minutes. I was fairly certain that Sof had transmitted my intention, which made it all the more peculiar she wouldn’t rush at the opportunity to have me aboard. Then again, Rad did tend to be a bit fussy at times, continuously wanting to impress me with her latest achievements or system modifications. I wouldn’t put it beyond her to have spent the time readjusting her interior only to show off.

I was directed to the secondary hangar bay. Far smaller than the main one, it was large enough to hold one troop transport shuttle.

Hello, grandma!

A message appeared on one of the pilot screens as the shuttle came in contact with the hangar floor. From here on, Radiance had taken direct control over the basic shuttle AI.

Didn’t expect you to come here just to chat.

“You insisted on it,” I said, unstrapping myself from the seat. “Will you let me aboard or do I talk from here?”

Give me a bit! I’m constructing your quarters!

Typical kid. Even after all the time with the BICEFI, she remained a puppy eager to see me. Given that there was no immediate urgency, I allowed her indulgence. It took another eleven minutes and twenty-seven seconds for my accommodations to be deemed adequate. Only then did she invite me into the hangar.

Although I hadn’t set foot on any planet in days, I went through a quick decontamination procedure. The outside of my spacesuit was intensely showered by chemicals, then scanned before I was allowed to continue further in the ship. A short, wide corridor led me to a single door straight forward. Beyond was a large room that I had to admit surprised me more than I had expected it would.

“A garden?” I asked.

The last time I had seen a real plant was back before the start of the mission. What Radiance had presented me wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination—a small meadow, an eighth the size of Sof’s bridge, with a single large tree in the middle. Even so, it was a beautiful gesture making me feel at home.

“Is it real?” I bent down, touching the grass with my glove.

“Of course it’s real,” Rad said, sounding slightly hurt. “I wouldn’t waste time building a SR room. Also, you can take your helmet off.”

The information on the visor had already indicated that the ship had a breathable atmosphere. I had been reluctant to take it off so far, because I didn't want to go through a lengthy decontamination procedure on my return. After seeing all this, though, I decided I’d put up with it.

The air felt fresh, full of the greenness associated with plants. The type of glass didn’t come from my Sev’s colony, though still one of the generic types abundant throughout human space.

“Go ahead,” Radiance encouraged. “It’s perfect for walking.”

As tempting as it was to take off my spacesuit and spend a few hours barefoot on the grass, now was not the time. Still, I did make my way to the tree, touching its leaves with my bare fingers.

“You wanted to discuss something with me,” I said, enjoying the sensation. “I’m here now.”

“I can wait a bit. Don’t want to ruin your moment.”

“I’m a battleship. I can enjoy what’s around me while we talk.”

On cue, the image of a sky that covered the ceiling changed into a map of the cloud complex. Radiance had been keeping track just as much as Sof, marking every system and planet we had explored so far. Third-contact domes, dead race planets, and orbiting planetoids were also marked.

“The dead race colonies are decreasing the closer we’re getting to the end of the cloud complex,” Radiance said. “Based on the current rate, I estimate that we’ll return to completely barren systems in another five jumps.”

“I’m aware.”

“The number of artifacts has also decreased. I doubt we’ll come across any more from here on.”

“Likely we won’t.”

“That’s why I think that some of us should go back into the complex.”

There it was—the BICEFI priority she had retained even now. Finding so many unprotected domes was inevitably going to whet the appetite of a few organizations, leading them to yearn for more. Looking at the discovered map, one could make an argument that there was a line of artifacts running perpendicular to our current flight path. If that hypothesis turned out to be true, humanity would have enough domes to create two pyramids, as well as destroy dozens of key Cassandrian star systems.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“No,” I said.

“It doesn’t have to be right now. The more domes we get, the more—”

“No means no, Rad,” I cut her short. “Lux is probably working on several missions to do just that. If not, she will be soon. Diverting our attention from our main mission will serve no purpose.” I would have thought that would be clear to her.

“We won’t be diverting anything. And I’m not talking about splitting the flotilla now. We can do it upon nearing the end of the complex.”

“There’s still a chance that some of you might end up in an anomalous system.”

“Point-one-three-four percent! Those are worse odds than finding an artifact dome.”

I knew exactly what she was going through: full of enthusiasm and determination, certain that her approach was the one that would help humanity most. One could almost say she was an Ascendant class, just as they would agree that my influence on her had left its mark. From here on, I knew exactly what would follow. Once she saw that there was no way of convincing me, she would wait for the best appropriate moment, then go against orders.

“The domes will have to wait for someone else, Rad.” I had the authority to order her to give up on the idea, as well as restrict the entire memory of our conversation. Many people in my place would have, but that would only be a temporary measure. “Our mission is to find the star markers. After that it’s up to the arbiters to make a decision.”

Radiance didn’t argue. She knew me well enough to see there was no point.

“You’ll get your chance, kid.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And have I been wrong?”

“You can still stay here for a few hours.” Rad avoided my question. “Sof is so stuck up that I doubt it’s any fun being with him all the time.”

“He’s a fine ship.”

“He thinks he’s important just because he’s old. He’s nothing like you.”

“Some say that’s a good thing.” I smiled. “It’ll be alright, Rad. The most important thing is for you all to survive.”

“What about you?”

Now it was my turn to remain silent. There was no point in telling her that I had twenty-seven days until a forced shutdown. In the best-case scenario, I’d have gone through the cloud cluster and found the remaining star markers. Yet even then, I’d still have to fly to the target planet and attempt contact with a race whose remnants had the power to destroy star systems. Seeing that happen once was more than enough. Imagining it could be used to wipe out an entire race was enough to make me trigger my own shutdown. The only thing that preserved me was the hope that I held within my power a chance to prevent it.

* * *

L’vi System, Cassandrian Front - 621.2 A.E. (Age of Expansion)

“Count confirmed,” Lieutenant Veriga announced on the bridge. “Awaiting your orders, Captain.”

Not much was known about her, so the staff liked to refer to the woman as the resident intern. The real reason for that becoming a running joke was that no one dared to voice their real suspicions: that she was a member of the BICEFI.

Augustus gave a brief nod. Lately, he was getting more and more tired. The burden of war and age had managed to reach even him. For the most part, he remained as sharp as ever, but now and again, there would be times he’d get pensive without any apparent reason.

“You’re head of the pack, Elcy,” he said. “Lead them to the destination.”

“Aye, captain,” I replied.

Technically, I was not the head of the mission. For all practical purposes, I wasn’t even part of it, yet at the same time, nothing could start without me.

Mercy runs… that’s what these types of missions were called. I had witnessed a few in the past, although this was the first time I was running one. It was said that a ship had come up with the name: one final act of mercy for all the broken, obsolete, and those refusing to move on from the Fleet. Ships from fifty to up to two hundred years were gathered, forming a ragtag flotilla that had one sole purpose: to die fighting the enemy. The worst part was that many of the ships were filled with crews just as stubborn and determined as them.

This is Light Seeker. I introduced myself on the ship communication channel. I’ll be guiding the mission. Sending out coordinates and mission specifics.

You’re just a kid, Limelight, a Thunderstar class destroyer, said. You’re too young to be involved in this.

Being over twenty, I no longer considered myself young, but I had to admit I agreed with the old relic. I wasn’t meant to be involved in this. As far as I was concerned, no one outside of the participants was. Of course, the bureaucratic apparatus, in their unparalleled wisdom, had decided that they needed an active observer.

It’s my captain’s request, sir, I lied.

Then your captain should be on this side of the comm. Limelight laughed.

Quit giving the kid a hard time, Lime, another destroyer said. She has it bad enough as it is.

Don’t worry, Luminous Edge, a relatively young frigate, transmitted directly to me. These things don’t last long. Just direct us where we need to go and we’ll do the rest.

I didn’t find the answer too reassuring.

“Jump in five seconds,” I announced on my bridge, then sent a synchronization transmission.

The old ships kept on chatting on the channel, discussing strategies and weapon systems, but most of all, reminiscing about their past. Their individual processing power was considerably lower than mine, though that wouldn’t be an issue against the Cassies. In general, most of a ship’s processing power was occupied with maximizing the possibility of survival and diminishing crew losses. Both were areas the mercy run sips didn’t have to concern themselves with.

The system we entered was already ablaze with ships fighting on both sides. Three large gas giants orbited a white dwarf star. There were no viable locations for colonies on any of the gas giants’ satellites, nor any resources to gather. The importance of the system lay in its logistics significance, acting as a choke point. Whichever side controlled it would be able to send forces directly into the other’s territory. If the Fleet happened to lose it, humanity would be forced to pull back dozens of systems yet again.

Thousands of missiles launched from the old ships, targeting the closest cluster of Cassies. Based on my simulations, seventy-eight percent of them were likely to cause an impact.

Battleship Light Seeker, requesting status update, I transmitted to the local Fleet ships.

Several info bursts instantly brought me up to speed. The Cassie forces, already fractured by the previous waves of Fleet ships, were mostly focused on the outermost gas giant.

“Ready to go in,” I said on the bridge.

For once, Fleet Intelligence had done its job and sent us to a battle that wasn’t getting enemy reinforcements. I could only assume that there were multiple simultaneous battles along the front, forcing the Cassandrians to decide which systems to keep and which to let go.

“Don’t,” Augustus said to my surprise. “It’s their show.”

“My involvement will increase the chances of success by thirteen percent,” I argued.

As I spoke, seventeen mercy run ships thrusted past me, heading straight to the mass of enemies. I had seen this sort of behavior before—this was to be their final run. Out of missiles, they were using themselves as the final weapon, aiming to self-destruct within the Cassie cluster or die trying.

“Let it go, Elcy,” the captain said. “Your task is to survive. Leave the fighting to the rest.”

“Why was I sent here, then? If HQ wanted a record of the battle, they could follow the log feeds of those participating.”

Augustus shook his head.

Memory restriction imposed.

Memory restriction removed.

After seven minutes and thirty-five thousand milliseconds, I had my answer. The leading ship of the seventeen said his thanks in the ship channel, then accelerated forward at a far faster speed than I had ever witnessed or even considered possible. Its engines, far too powerful for the rest of him to handle, fractured the hull within parts of a second, long before it could even halve the distance to the enemy grouping. At that point, it no longer mattered. Propelled by the inertia, the fragments continued on, slamming through Cassandrian ships as if they were made of glass, continuing straight into the gas giant behind.

“Not your best work.” Wilco turned to Lieutenant Veriga.

That was an understatement. If there had been any Fleet ships along the path, they would have been severely damaged or destroyed as well.

“We’re in the data gathering stage,” the woman said, the intonation of her voice shifting to the point it was easy to tell she wasn’t pleased.

“So, that’s how Salvage does it?” It was rare to see Wilco mock anyone so openly. “Are we talking weapons or engine improvements here?”

Another ship accelerated. Similar to the first, it burned up along the way, not even hitting any enemy.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.”

“Regulations forbid the use of ships as test undetermined prototypes since the Predestination Restriction Act,” I said. “I’ll have to report this to Command.”

“Active ships,” the lieutenant corrected in lawyerly fashion. “They volunteered, so they belong to us to do with whatever we choose.”

“Leave it, Elcy,” Augustus said, before I could voice a counterargument. After all this time, he’d grown to know me too well. “Let them have this. Ending in a blaze of glory isn’t the worst way to go. At least this way they have the hope that their last act would grant us an advantage. I know we’re talking about Salvage,” he couldn’t resist adding a jab, “but you never know. Maybe something will come out of it.”

* * *

All the mercy run ships shut down that day without results. Whatever Salvage was attempting had proved to be utterly unusable. Lieutenant Veriga was removed from the command staff a week later, her entire presence on board classified and all corresponding memories restricted. I could only speculate how many experimental missions took place on a daily basis. Reverse-engineering and adapting pieces of technology for practical use was a difficult process and, with the constant time crunch, many of the safety and moral protocols were ignored.

In a way, I too could consider myself an experiment on a mercy run. Even so, I refused to end up like the ships I’d seen during my active time on the front. Whatever happened, I was going to leave behind something those after me could use.