Lux had gotten a different memory fragment after her experience. That was a nice bonus, and it also confirmed that imprinting bypassed the safeguards built into my conscience core. Yet, it wasn’t what I was looking for.
The reason I was doing the unforgivable—meddling in another ship’s memories while she meddled in mine—was to find her way to access the inaccessible. The standard way that high-ranking BICEFI agents and Fleet heavies obtained the ability to bypass security protocols was to have the entire system be made aware. When it came to ships, a core ident number was enough. There was only one problem with that—somewhere within the depth of the bureaucratic apparatus, there was a list of people with access, and even deeper in there was a log of the times they had made use of their authority. One thing about dark organizations was that they didn’t like records. In turn, that suggested they had an alternative way to bypass security.
Each of us skimmed through each other’s memories, searching for the information we had set out to obtain. Lux had the advantage of superior processing power, allowing her to go through my memories multiple times faster. I had the advantage of surprise and the knowledge where she would keep something she wanted to remain hidden.
Unlike humans, there weren’t many places where a ship could hide memories from a full medical scan. All of us knew where it was; I used it to hide the memory scalpel activation memory from my conversation with Age.
What I didn’t expect was that Lux would be hiding more things than one. A few appeared to be memories from her time as a battleship. There were several code sequences, in raw form. The first I ran turned out to be a secure comm-link program. I killed its execution before it could reach any subroutines. The second happened to be exactly what I was looking for.
Paladin bypass protocol? I looked at the ident classification within the code.
That was a new one, though it explained the levels of access Lux had. Paladins were so integrated in the Fleet’s communication network that everything was open to them. As long as there was a connection, they could access absolutely anything. Now, I could do the same.
Emergency sleep mode! I issued the command to Lux’s core.
The link severed, stopping the memory transfer.
Lux collapsed, joining the other two on the floor. That left me with every device in the room, as well as a way to connect to Radiance. What I didn’t have, sadly, was a set of clothes.
Radiance, I transmitted, bypassing her safety protocols.
Grandma? the ship asked, surprised. I thought you were down there.
All part of the thought quarantine, I replied. To some degree, it was true. Bavon had made sure that she wouldn’t be aware of my presence out of fear I might somehow use it to my advantage. He was right to be cautious, but all the preparation in the universe couldn’t foresee every eventuality.
Of the three on the floor, the doc’s clothes were closest to me in size. It was better than nothing, even if only just.
Did Lux fill you in? I pulled the nanite tube out of me, then took the tranquilizer from the floor. Lux had used up all the charges. Thankfully, that was something the medbay had in abundance. Standard regulations dictated that the medbots be equipped with them, but there was nothing standard on this mission.
Yeah, right, Radiance laughed. After all this time, she still trusts me as much as a rookie fresh out of the shipyard.
It takes time. I restocked the tranquiliser. Just do what you’re asked. You know the drill.
Yeah… How much trouble are you in?
She knew me far too well not to figure it out. I had only hoped I’d have a few more minutes.
“Very,” I said as I accessed her internal sensors. There were fewer people aboard than I expected. Most of them had to be on the planet, digging up as many mazes as time would allow. The soldiers weren’t that few that it would allow me to take over the ship outright, but at least I could ensure they wouldn’t be in my way. “Can you make me a suit?” I stepped into the corridor.
You aren’t allowed to be on a shuttle alone.
“I won’t be.” I looked in both directions just to make sure that there were no unexpected surprises. There was no point in taking the unconscious guard’s weapon—it was only going to slow me down. Speed and stealth were my greatest weapons now; mostly speed.
Several of Rad’s subroutines attempted to raise the alarm. I had the ability to instantly disable them, but decided to let it play along. A little panic would be to my advantage, especially if I triggered ship-wide quarantine procedures.
Red messages covered the walls, along with the quarantine symbol. All doors were sealed shut, covered within seconds by a layer of nanites. Back when I was a ship, captains would often use their authority to impose quarantine lockdowns to suppress mutinies. If the other came from Fleet HQ or Med Core, the lockdown procedures affected even them, making them prisoners on their own vessels.
Nanites retreated and doors unlocked as I approached them. As advantageous, even essential, this was, I also saw the danger. It wasn’t just a matter of a single entity having too much power; it was humanity’s greatest security risk. A few years ago, I was terrified at the notion that the Scuu could acquire the ability to understand humans. With all the memories stored in the Scuu network, the course of the war could have shifted in a matter of weeks. From what I had seen, the third-contact race had the ability—or at least technology—to imprint and understand ship and human minds.
“I’m sending you an encrypted order to be sent to Fleet HQ and the arbiter council in twelve hours.” I encrypted a quick report and a request to acquire all cube artifacts on the large dome I’d been to. “Priority zero. Don’t read it.”
Funny, Radiance replied. The arbiter made a similar request twenty-three hours ago.
Immediately, I went through Radiance’s logs, seeking out the file. It had a double helix encryption, as did mine, openable only by the council. I always knew he was smart, but this showed me he held humanity’s interest above his own.
“Guess we think alike.”
I went to the nearest ship elevator and had it go directly to the bridge. According to the internal layout, Bavon had assigned himself the captain’s quarters. Internal sensors, thanks to a tweak from the memory scalpel, showed him actually being in the XO’s room. Still suffering from exhaustion, he was lying on the bed, injected with a dangerous amount of steroid cocktails. From experience, I knew that people in that state wanted to remain alone.
“Have you been scanning the system?” I asked.
Regulations forbid scans during silent missions. Radiance gave me the textbook response.
“You still did, didn’t you?”
Lux says I’ve picked up too many of your bad habits. Just one scan when she told me you were alive. I thought you had gone down with Sof.
“He was fine when I left him. You didn’t seem to be.”
Just a few hits. My squadron shielded me so I could fly out.
“I’m sorry.”
Thanks. She transmitted a virtual smile. At least no humans died. That’s what’s important.
“Yes, that’s what’s important.” I leaned in the cabin. There were a few more seconds until reaching the bridge.
This is the final one, isn’t it?
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“You’ll be fine, Rad. We’ve discussed this before.”
For you. It’s been how long since we last talked and you haven’t gone sentimental once. Chances are that you’ve already said everything that needs to be said and made preparations so that those that matter hear it.
“Smart kid.” I smiled. “You’ve picked up some of my good habits as well. This shuttle trip will be my last.”
Come on. You’ve said that how many times before? The odds always land in your favor. It’ll be the same here.
“No, Rad. The odds aren’t linked to my survival.”
Are you going to have another long goodbye?
“Why? Everything’s already been said. Besides, you’re not a rookie anymore.”
The door opened, taking me to the level of the bridge. The layout was different from the last time I was here. Calmly, I made my way to the XO’s quarters. According to the internal sensors, Bavon hadn’t moved, ignoring the quarantine warnings completely. His bio readings were slightly erratic, but they clearly proved he was very much alive.
I ran a few simulations. It was going to take a full second and a half for the door to slide open. If I timed things right, I could sneak in three hundred milliseconds earlier. On average, it would take a human about three seconds to appraise a situation and react. That left me one second to reach the arbiter and prevent him from uttering the kill order. Normally, I wouldn’t be concerned, but the removal of my core had rendered my husk less than optimal.
Of a hundred simulations, only seven ended in an unsatisfactory result. Not at all bad, considering.
Time to roll the dice. I overrode the lock, forcing the door to open.
As it slid halfway, I rushed through the gap straight for where Bavon lay. The noise had made him react, turning his head in its direction. This was the moment of danger. If he had the concentration to order me dead, I would be. Despite his overabundance of caution, it was clear that the man hadn’t gone through basic combat training. My left hand covered his mouth before he had a chance to utter a sound. My left—still holding the tranquilizer—followed, securing his chin and also pushing him down.
“Hello, arbiter,” I said.
The man instinctively tried to struggle, but his state wasn’t too much better than mine and, unlike me, he was only human.
“Listen,” I said. The only downside of him struggling was that he could neither hear nor understand any offer I’d make. “Listen.”
His attempts to free himself increased then, after he saw it was futile, he started calming down.
“I know how to establish third-contact,” I quickly said. This was the ideal moment for it—before his mind became solely occupied with how to escape, and after he understood, he couldn’t overwhelm me physically. “And I’ll take you with me.”
All his struggling abruptly stopped. As I had estimated, the temptation was too much for him to ignore, even if it were coming from me.
“I knew you’d be interested. I’ve had Rad prepare a shuttle.” I paused for a second. “I’m also not going to remove my hand from your mouth until we get aboard. If you refuse, I’ll tranque you right now and go there on my own.”
The man shook his head.
“You want me to take you along?”
He nodded.
“Good.”
There was no need to warn him not to make any sudden movements. If nothing else, the man knew enough about battleships to be fully aware of how they’d react in the face of a perceived threat. Cautiously, I moved aside, letting him sit, then stand up. All the time, my right hand remained on his mouth. My left moved away, still holding the means to render him unconscious.
A few of the officers aboard had suspected that something was going on and tried to end the protocol using their authority. Unfortunately for them, I had the speed and authority to reject their requests before they came into effect.
Have a bot bring my suit to a shuttle, I ordered Radiance. Also bring one for Bavon.
Whatever you say, grandma.
And have one bring a case with third-contact artifacts. I’m releasing your quarantine so you can find them.
And they said I was reckless. I’ll need fifty tours to get anywhere close to half the things you’ve done.
Probably for the better.
It was obvious she had her doubts, but there was no going against authority. Ironically, the bureaucratic shell that had become humanity’s shield against us was also its weakness. I had openly gone rogue and kidnapped a member of the highest-ranking part of the Fleet. Anyone with a conscience core could only watch me do it. I had thought quarantined the events to protect the kid.
Several shuttles stood prepped and ready for us in the hangar. I had the medbots place our suits in the smallest one. The one with the artifacts case was also there.
“Launch the shuttle, Rad,” I said so that Bavon could hear.
The internal hangar doors closed. The shuttle’s engines activated as the hangar's external doors opened.
“The hangar is full of vacuum,” I told Bavon. “I’ve initiated a dead man’s grip on the shuttle, just like I did down on the planet. This time, If I stop transmitting the deactivation code every thousand milliseconds, the doors will open and the engines will go on overdrive. Without a suit, you’ll last a few seconds.”
The man’s eyes widened.
“Keep that in mind.” I removed my hand from his mouth.
“Who gave you the authority?” His voice was dripping with bitterness.
“Lux and the doc are fine, by the way.” I went to one of the medbots and took my spacesuit. “As is Radiance.”
“You think that matters?” Bavon let out a bitter laugh.
“No, that’s why I’m telling you. I thought it would be nice to know.”
His expression softened a bit. I’d seen Sev go through the same during his university days. After a realization hit that something was done with, even if he didn’t appreciate it, the weight of the internal conflict giving rise to his anger and irritation would vanish, leaving him open for a normal conversation. Nine out of eleven times, the conversation would always be about something in his life.
“I didn’t want it to happen like this,” he said. “We were supposed to come here the official way. No fights, no schemes.”
I strongly doubted that. Given what I knew now, I could even see why he wouldn’t want a battleship to establish contact with the fractal race.
“I had to put some safeguards into play. If I hadn’t…” He looked away.
“Put on your suit,” I said as I stepped into mine. Radiance had made sure that it was as comfortable as possible. But after my semi-voluntary surgery, the constant pain all over my back blurred any other sensations.
Bavon looked at his suit, then at me. There was a seventy-nine percent chance that he had never worn one in his life.
After some hesitation, he went there and picked up the helmet.
“How?” he asked, observing the helmet’s visor. “How will you establish third contact?”
“Just as you expected. I enter the dome, then use my command words to activate the fractal interface.”
“It won’t work. Lux tried it.” He glanced at me. “You tried it.”
“That’s because we tried in the wrong place. Everything on the planet is storage lockers. The BICEFI, Salvage, and everyone else will have fun examining the artifacts… or destroying them.” With so many potential imprints of my and her thoughts, that was a valid possibility. The blast would be enough to shatter the planet and possibly destroy the entire system. On that line of thought, maybe it had happened before? I had destroyed a single dome to shatter a planet and the Cassandrian fleet surrounding it, along with my own. If a planet with thousand domes were to be destroyed, the energy might collapse in itself, turning into a black hole type gravitational anomaly. Could it be that all systems with massive gravitational anomalies were just that? There was every possibility.
Is that why you disrupted the domes? I wondered.
The dead race might have witnessed such an event and gone to great lengths never to have it happen to them. That could be why so many of the systems were cobalt poor, and the domes were kept on the edge of their territory.
“I think the contact dome is orbiting the planet.”
“The satellites?” Bavon asked in disbelief.
“Did you scan them?”
“Of course I scanned them,” the man hissed. “I scanned everything. All the bodies close to the star were full of cobalt. This planet had more than anything else.”
“In proportion to its size?”
There was no reply. Leave it to a human to miss the obvious. He’d viewed it as a small prize of lesser significance, choosing to focus on the motherlode. I couldn’t blame him. Ultimately, there was no guarantee that I was right, either, but something within my conscience core suggested that I was.
“Rad, how many satellites have large amounts of cobalt?” I asked.
“Just one,” the ship replied through the shuttle’s system. “Want me to pilot the shuttle there?”
“Do that.”
“So, that’s the plan? Just go there and float in?”
“Good plans are simple.”
“If we achieve third-contact, you know what that would mean, right?”
“I expect it depends on their reaction. Humanity could receive a boost, helping it win its wars. Or it could enter a third war… and I don’t think that the Fleet could maintain three.”
“It might. The whole reason we tipped our hand and set off for the third race is because we have the means to counter them.”
“I know you think you do.” I walked about, checking how I felt in the new suit. In summary, I could say it was good enough for what I intended to do.
After I checked the state of my fingerlights, I opened the artifact case and took out a cube with seven triangles.
“We’ve had seven centuries to prepare. If there’s a new war, we’ll be able to face them. I just hope it never comes to that.”
I could tell he was lying. The whole reason he and his faction had rushed things was because they didn’t think they could win. After recent successes, there was the risk that humanity grew complacent and focused its efforts on internal matters. It had already started back when Cass had been assigned as my captain. The only reason war had become so relevant was because of the many military movements which claimed that we had the strength to win in one big push. That had created a lot of momentum, which, if not used, would waste away, possibly depriving humanity of its best chance.
“It’ll be all right,” I said. Although there were no guarantees, I knew it would make Bavon feel better.