Fragment Unknown, Timestamp Unknown

“We’re at our destination, captain,” I said. Scans indicated that the system was completely bare—a dying brown dwarf with no planets or any orbital objects, whose very existence was restricted information. “No additional mass detected.” At least there was no chance of the Cassandrians sneaking a surprise attack.

My captain nodded with a smile, then went back to skimming his datapad. It had been less than a week that he had taken command, and I still knew nothing about him or my assignment. The handover had been brisk and completely classified. From my perspective, one moment I was serving under Augustus, and the next I was flying silently on the edge of Cassadrian space with a full complement of upgraded weapons and a crew of one.

“Further instructions?” I engaged my reverse engines, coming to a complete stop.

“We remain here for another—” The captain tapped on his datapad. “—thirteen minutes, then we head to our rendezvous point.”

“Aye, sir.” Another jump, another waypoint to our final destination, and still no answers.

It was normal for ships to be spared certain details. The fleet’s bureaucratic apparatus was huge with many moving parts, none of which liked having their secrets exposed. My current situation, though, was a genuine first. Surviving for as long as I had, there were many things I’d seen on the front: staff officers that mistrusted battleships, ships that didn’t respect their captains, and every possible combination in-between. But one thing never changed: the captain-ship paradigm—the certainty that a captain could make nearly any demand of a ship and know that such a demand would be obeyed. At present, I felt that the bond was lacking.

“I suppose you’ll be glad to know that you’ll be getting a crew there.” The captain put his datapad on the empty seat beside him. “All highly specialized like yourself, and just as grumpy.”

His humor annoyed me.

“That would be true if I didn’t have a crew already, sir.” For a ship of my experience, I didn’t like how he was treating me. “Have I been quarantined?”

“No, Elcy, you haven’t been quarantined,” the captain replied with mild annoyance. “You will be after the mission.” The icy precision with which he arranged his words told me he was perfectly aware of the mission and just didn’t want me to be. “Just be patient for now.”

“Aye, captain.”

I ran a long-range scan. According to the latest reports, the fleet had initiated a massive wedge advance, attempting to breach into Cassandrian space through fourteen choke points. No details had been available, but the rumor was that two of the systems had been so full of enemy ships that short-range scanners had been rendered useless. By now, the majority of both fleets were focused on those exact spots, giving us the freedom to float undisturbed.

Opening a hundred and eight maps of the front, I started running through simulations to determine my possible location. Since the start of the second-contact war, the stretch of space between humanity and the Cassandrians had kept growing, taking more and more systems. At first it had been the Cassandrians that had pushed the human fleets further and further back. New lines had been constantly formed, each wider than the last until the moment of equilibrium had been reached. Aurie used to joke that the moment of military equilibrium started with the development of the Ascendant class. It was an amusing coincidence that she liked to note each time we went on a mission together, along with whatever other gossip she had picked up.

Fourteen choke points. I thought marking them on the map. They were grouped in four distinct clusters at various points of the overall front. Since I wasn’t part of the operation, I had no idea which was to be the main breach point and which would be auxiliaries, but considering the Cassandrian method of battle, I doubted it would make a lot of difference. As long as the fleet managed to secure one choke point, we would push on.

“You’re not very good at conversations, are you?” the captain asked.

“There’s nothing for me to say, sir.” It’s not like you’ve answered any of my questions.

The entire trip so far had been a series of diagnostics and system checks, between trips to unknown systems with coordinates outside of my database.

“Yes, there is, but that’s why I chose you.” He half-smiled. “You’re quiet and reckless, even for an Ascendant.”

His vocal changes suggested he was lying, but I remained quiet.

“There will be forty-one on this mission.” The captain picked up his datapad. “Once everyone’s here, you’ll get to learn everything.”

“Yes, sir.” I’ve heard that line before; it was the same the BICEFI used on every mission we had collaborated on. Even now, I couldn’t tell if they had lied. This time would be no different.

“Time?”

“Approximately nine and a half minutes remaining,” I replied.

“Nine minutes,” he repeated. “I guess you’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

The memory disappeared with a snap as a jolt of pain rushed up my shoulder. The sensation was unusual; until a little while ago, I hadn’t been able to feel anything beneath my neck. Now, I could almost feel my entire right arm. I tried to move my fingers. A second wave of pain washed over me. Whatever was going on, it was better that I didn’t try to move about, at least for the moment.

Elcy, I heard Kridib in my mind. What happened? You vanished.

He appeared to be in the building I was expected to have been, standing by a window. Two more of the murder troops were there with him, scanning the place.

How long was I gone? A faint ringing sound filled my ears, as if they were getting accustomed to hearing once more.

Half an hour, give or take, Kridib replied without even checking.

Okay. That was reassuring. I think I’m being carried somewhere. Rigel injected me with something, probably sedatives. I can’t see or hear.

Not helpful. Kridib turned to one of the grunts near him. The trooper looked up, then shook his head. Nitel’s ordered us out of here. The moment we—

The link was abruptly severed, leaving me back in the darkness. Slowly, the ringing subsided, giving way to other sounds. I could make out five distinct sets of steps, as well as the sound of wooden wheels coming from below.

“Rigel.” My voice sounded hoarse, but weak. Most likely no one even noticed “Rigel.”

The sound of walking stopped, replaced by hushed whispers. Speech analysis indicated three distinct speech voice patterns, although Rigel wasn’t among them. All I was able to make out in the five-and-a-half seconds of conversation were the words “interference,” “water,” and “Agora.” Shortly later, the black layer above me was removed, revealing clear skies.

Thermal fabrics, I thought. That’s how they must have kept me hidden from Radiance, which also meant that all of her scan information was faulty.

A beige silhouette of a man emerged above me. I couldn’t make out his face, but the bone structure didn’t match any of the colonists’ I’d seen.

“Hold still,” the man said, turning my head to the side. Waves of pain pulsed through my entire right arm. Moments later, a needle pierced the base of my neck again.

Radiance, I transmitted, in the hopes the message would reach the battleship. I’m outside. They’re using thermal fabrics to camouflage me.

Auxiliary data connection established.

Auxiliary data connection established.

Auxiliary data connection established.

A new cascade of notifications filled my mind. The man released my head, then tossed the thermal cover over me. Everything went black, only this time I couldn’t hear anymore. The pain had also disappeared, along with what little control of sensation I had been given. All that remained were my memories. With my chances of survival decreasing by the hour, there was no point in me not looking into them. What I needed right now was information.

Time for another wild ride, Sev. I looked into my restricted memories.

The third-contact artifacts became known to me again. Most of them were unlike the pyramid I had found, although the fractals were somewhat similar. Back in the domes, I was able to activate one, which suggested the rods had to act as an energy source. Prometheus—the last science ship I was on—would have been appalled at my flimsy logic, but the connections were there. Both the third-contact civilization and the Scuu had used cobalt rods in their constructs. Until now, I had thought them to be a means of communication, but there was nothing to say that was their primary function. If I considered them as energy sources, everything changed. On the planets where I’d found the artifacts, they hadn’t been encapsulated to be hidden; the energy they emitted had attracted things to them. That was the reason why they could release so much energy when released. If each dome contained the potential energy of a miniature star, it was no wonder the fleet wanted to use them as a weapon. The Scuu’s purpose had been different, directly attacking the mind. I went back to the image of the dead animals around the Scuu capsule. Looking back, I wish I had done a better job inspecting them. Then again, I hadn’t expected to be shot to my death.

Splitting my attention, I focused on four memories: the third-contact dome, the Scuu impact zone, the pyramid itself, and the picture of the dead captain of the Gregorius. In terms of logic, there weren’t any known connections between all four memories, and still I speculated whether or not everything was related. From what I had gathered, Captain Ruz knew both Kridib and Renaan. The same could be said about Flight Colonel Nitel. Even with all their records classified, there was a thirty-seven percent chance that all four had served together, until something had happened. An event in Scuu space had gotten Kridib refitted with a brain implant and Renaan placed on a no-return prison planet, while Captain Ruz and Nitel had remained on active duty virtually unpunished. Sometime later, Ruz had ended up dead, prompting an unsanctioned rescue mission on a prison planet.

Back when I was a ship, Augustus used to say that everything started from a single instance. Once that was known, everything would eventually fall into place. My hope was to manage to learn something before my final shutdown.

Time crawled on. The nanite mixture the colonists had used on me was potent enough to keep the organic part of me subdued. Thanks to the nanites, I could register my blood circulating as well as the movement of my lungs, and I could also tell that I was completely paralyzed. That left me with a lot of time for simulations and memory jumping.

Sorry I never get to write more letters, Sev.

That was the thing I felt guilty about. In trying not to worry him, I had ended up abandoning him… just like his mother.

“Make sure you keep the perimeter!” Kridib’s mind connection blasted into my thoughts, bringing me the image of Flight Colonel Nitel. Our superior appeared to be in a heavily barricaded room, along with five other troopers at the ready. All of them seemed tense. “Everyone available is to—”

A burst of gunfire blasted through the distant wall, reducing a trooper to a pile of lifeless flesh. Kridib instantly fell to the ground gripping a sidearm. From the corner of his eyes, I could see a sniper rifle leaning against the wall—it wasn’t his, but he was thinking about using it.

“Pull back!” the Flight Colonel shouted, emptying a rifle through the cloud of white dust. Judging by the angle of the weapon I didn’t give him more than a twenty-nine percent chance to hit any of the attackers. Unexpectedly, the enemy shooting ceased. “Radiance!” he shouted. “Plot a route to the nearest shuttle.”

“Is the target safe?” I heard the battleship’s voice through the rending of Kridib’s ears.

“Target is safe!” Nitel shouted, firing a few more shots, before moving to the side for cover. His movements didn’t seem consistent with those of a combat trooper. The only soldiers I’d seen behave in similar fashion were purge specialists. “Send a shuttle and give me an ETA!”

“I need a confirmation,” Radiance replied. Once again, I saw myself in her tone.

“Corporal.” Nitel turned to Kridib. ”Get our confirmation! Everyone else, prepare to move out! Radiance, give me five second bursts.”

“It won’t be easy reaching a shuttle, sir.” I recognized the white-haired sergeant from the ship. “There’s more of them than us.”

The info burst showed me what the sergeant knew: fifty-seven people protecting a building from two hundred and twelve. Rigel’s men had managed to box almost all of the support troops in one spot. Quite careless. One minor salvo, and the entire operation would be killed. Nitel was fortunate that the enemy didn’t have missiles or any inkling of modern weapons. If they had, the fight would have been over.

Why aren’t you commenting on this, kid? I wondered.

“Heading for the captain.” Kridib stood up. “What about the secondary?”

“Leave her!” Instantly, I knew he was addressing me. “Once we get in orbit, glass the colony!”

“You don’t have the authority for that call.” Radiance’s voice was mixed with static. “Reckless loss of a battleship core is highly punishable.”

“She’s already infected.” Nitel’s tone became relatively calm. “Just be sure to—”

The connection ended abruptly. I had witnessed similar practices on the Cassandrian front—missiles with artifact warheads wreaking havoc on the enemies’ communication and navigation systems. A few thousand missiles had stopped an entire Cassandrian front, securing a valuable choke point. Apparently, Rigel must have had similar information and was using it to deprive Nitel of his key advantage.

A slight tingling sensation came from my fingers, similar to a post-wound itch. If my new nanites were to be trusted, there was blood circulation through most of my body. My left leg was missing up to the hip, along with half of my right. Focusing whatever bodily strength I had, I tried to move my arm. Dull pain pulsed through my joints. Two thousand milliseconds later, I gave up.

Infected. In my experience, that was never a good sign. Leaving an intact battleship core made it worse. HQ would be all over the decision, as would the Salvage Authorities. The Flight Colonel was informed enough to know that, and still jumped at the opportunity to leave the planet. In his place, I would have triangulated and carpet bombed my position the moment Kridib had found my suicide capsule.

Communications down, I went back to analyzing my memory images of the artifacts. Seven minutes later, the thermal tarp was pulled off me. A pale blue sky was visible directly above—a crack between mounds of yellow-brown cliffs all around me. Looking to the side I was able to make out the facial features of the person holding the tarp. The man looked somewhere in his thirties, completely bald and with the start of a scruffy brown beard; he was wearing a battle ground trooper’s uniform, but I could tell he wasn’t a soldier. The frequency with which he breathed suggested he wasn’t used to the gravity of the planet, the pale smoothness of his skin—that he had been here less than a week.

“How is she?” Ogum came into view. I tried to turn my head to get a better view, but the effort remained beyond me.

“Almost there.” The other leaned closer, then pulled down my lower eyelid. “It’s taken hold, but it should be a few hours before she’s adequately functional.”

“Hmm.” Ogum didn’t sound impressed.

“Would have been faster if you hadn’t hit any vital spots!” The man took out a small device and pressed it against my left eye. It resembled a medical scan probe, though not a model I recognized. A series of light flashes flickered. “Optical nerve is fine.” The man said. “Retina’s still damaged. She’ll need another dose, maybe two.” He pulled the med-probe away and stepped back. “It should have been just the leg.”

“Not against battleships.” Ogum smirked. “They’re durable.”

Both men moved out of my sight. Motionless, I tried to match the new person’s identity to the known fleet personnel database. Unlike everyone else on the colony, there was a match. There was no face, name, or allocation, only a redacted marker indicating that further information could only be received in person from Fleet Command Hub. The fact that he was in the database at all made him unusual.

“Enjoyed your rest?” Rigel asked. “Sorry for the nap, but it speeds up things. We want you in perfect condition.” His voice got louder as he spoke, though I couldn’t hear any footsteps. “Don’t try to talk. It’ll be a while.”

“I’m heading out,” Ogum said, likely to Rigel. “You do what you’re doing.”

“Why?” I forced the word from my mouth. There was no sensation to be felt, but I knew I had spoken. The others knew it as well, for there was a long moment of complete silence.

“Or maybe earlier.” Rigel sounded amused.

“She’s not supposed to,” the redacted man said, his voice thick with fear and confusion. “It takes at least two hours for—”

“You’ve not been with a battleship, have you?” Rigel asked. I could mentally imagine him shaking his head. “I think she’s talking to you, Ogum. Care to indulge her?”

“No.” The word was full of spite. I heard a series of steps move away.

“Don’t worry about him none. He’s got issues.” Rigel moved closer. “Been here longer than most. That tends to mess up the mind a bit. He also has issues with Renaan.”

“What issues?” Every word was exhausting.

“Renaan was the one who dropped him off here.” The old man came into view. Now that my eyes were better, I could finally see him. He was wearing a makeshift black uniform with no logo or insignia. It didn’t seem to belong to any branch or organization, and it was definitely uncomfortable. “Not the worst deal, considering the alternative.” Rigel placed his hand on my shoulder. It felt distant, as if I were in my old body. “That’s for free. Did you reconsider my proposal?”

I remained silent.

“Every question I can answer.” He pressed on. “What’s there to lose? Renaan and your troopers are off to their shuttles with orders to leave you behind. If it wasn’t for Tilae, you’d already be dead.”

That much was true. “How?” I struggled to ask.

“Give her another shot,” Rigel said over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Elcy. You’re in good hands.”

As Tilae came into view, holding a syringe, I noticed him glance at his wrist. The fashion in which he did that suggested he had developed the habit to the point he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Planet cleaner,” I whispered. The man froze for four hundred and thirty-eight milliseconds, before continuing.

Got you. That’s how I was still alive. Tilae wasn’t part of the local colony. He was a doctor…

“You won’t feel a thing.” He inserted the tip of the syringe in the side of my neck.

* * *

Medical Facility, Leoforge Station

“Cadet Seeker?” one of the doctors—an average man—asked, his face partially covered by a medical mask. He gave off the demeanor of someone who couldn’t wait to finish so he could go home.

“Elcy,” I corrected. “Here as instructed, sir.”

“She’s the ship, Uri,” the android semi-whispered.

“Oh, right.” It took a few moments for the doctor to register what had been said, then a few more for him to figure out what that actually meant. “Right, right,” he looked at his wrist pad. “Retired battleship, right?” I saw his eyes twitch, scrolling through my file. “Retired and returned. Quite the combo. Had enough of boring calm and decided to get back to the action?” He let out a loud laugh, which almost sounded genuine.

“Yes, sir.” I glanced at the magnetic ring. It occupied the center of the room, large enough to scan someone twice my size and completely devoid of additional components.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” the other doctor said. Unlike her colleague, she seemed to read the situation far better. Other than me, she was the shortest in the room, her deep beige skin contrasting with the light-green lab coat, granting her an air of familiarity. I noticed the remains of tattoos on her wrist, poking out from under her sleeve. They were military. I caught a glimpse of another on the male doctor as well.

Ground troops. In my experience, they were the only ones who had tattoos made and refused to take them off even in civilian life. One of my first crews had a policy of adding a detail after every mission as a way of displaying their veteran status.

“Planet cleaner?” I asked pointing at the woman’s hand.

She glanced down, then back at me again. “Field medic,” she replied without further details. “Ready to begin?”

I nodded. “Where do I undress?”

“No need for that.” The woman put on her mask. “Just step into the center of the ring. It’ll take care of the rest.”

“No neuro cords?”

“Technology has advanced a bit since your time. We’re mostly observers now.”

That didn’t sound at all believable. Given no choice, I walked to the end of the room, stepping over the massive white ring. The moment I walked inside, the loop activated, rising up from the floor to waist height.

“You won’t feel a thing,” the man said, as the android assistant handed him a small device.

A low hum filled the room. I felt an external connection latch onto my info channel. A wave of data flooded over me, overriding my security protocols and body motor functions.

Quarantine imposed

Quarantine bypassed

“Marking start of procedure at mark twenty-five,” the doctor said. “Procedure is to be performed by myself, Doctor Uri Ma, and Doctor Eliza V. Abla. Assisting is Reyk Delinnia.”

“Compliance observation sixty-two,” the android said. I couldn’t tell whether that was her name, or part of the procedure.

“The procedure has been cleared by Fleet Command, in accordance to medical section three-point-seven and shall be recorded as required.” By the doctor’s dreary voice, I could tell this was the standard bureaucratic part of the procedure. “We also have a request for a secondary procedure by the BICEFI,” the doctor read from his wrist datapad. “There are orders that its existence is to be removed from the official record and only referred to as “conditioning.” Waiting for verbal confirmation from the observer.”

“Secondary procedure confirmed,” the android assistant said. “To be removed from all records upon completion.”

“Good, now let’s get to work.”

The doctor placed the device on my neck, at the position of the thyroid gland, then walked behind me. I felt the heat of a laser marker on the back of my neck.

“Close to two sieverts,” Doctor Alba noted. “What’ve you been doing?”

“Close star observation,” I replied. “It should be in my file.”

“That’s a new one. We’ll have to do a change of all nanites.” She turned to the android. “Blood too.” The woman looked at me. “At this point, we might as well request a new body and move the core. Would be cheaper.”

“We haven’t been cleared for that,” Uri said as he continued marking areas on my back—as far as I could tell, pinpointing my entire cervical spine.

Good thing you’re not here to see this, Sev. You never liked doctors.

Ever since childhood, Sev had refused to go even to the simplest procedures. In most cases, I had to come along with him. As he grew older he had stopped making a scene, but his hatred towards the medical profession didn’t fade. In his mind, antibiotics and home tech could solve anything.

“Bone density is low,” Uri continued. “Replacement won’t be quick. How soon are you expected back onboard?”

“A few hours, I think.” No one had specified an exact time, though it would hardly be more than that.

“It’ll be a bit more than a few hours.” Doctor Alba nodded a few times. “Bring me nine hundred milligrams of Agora,” she told the android. “Elcy, you might feel like entering sleep mode a few times. Don’t worry, that’s perfectly normal. The main thing is for you not to move. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Marking’s done,” Uli said behind me. “About to start incisions.”

As a ship, I had seen thousands of medical procedures. Each time I had received damage or brought back ground troops from a planet, there were casualties, and among the casualties there were wounded. Nanites and med bots had largely split soldiers in two categories: alive and flatlined. From a statistical point of view, severe injuries were rare. Diseases and nanite rejection were far more prevalent concerns. With trillions of people engaging in combat every day, even lesser statistics became a common occurrence. I had seen people go through complex procedures, sometimes lasting through weeks. Most often, surgical procedures were automated, with medical cadres only getting involved because of the obligatory human confirmation rule. My current experience was completely different.

The nanite replacement was common—most soldiers had their nanites completely replaced every eighteen months. The Agora substance was an unknown. It was injected in small doses every five minutes, always in the back of the head. The first few times caused slight fuzziness, as if I was performing a deep core diagnostic. After the second hour, the effects subsided.

“Doing well?” Doctor Alba asked. Having connected a nanite collector to my brachial artery, she had gone behind me, assisting Doctor Ma with his surgical intervention.

“Yes, ma’am. The pain levels are tolerable.” Nothing like having my hull sliced up.

“Don’t mind her,” Uri said. “Most patents aren’t conscious during procedures.” I felt him saw into my third vertebrae. “Usually we chat between ourselves.”

“And as you can tell, the talks aren’t that good,” Doctor Alba added with an audible smirk.

“What is Agora?” I asked. “I saw containers coming here.”

“Just regulations.” Uri’s voice became slightly higher. “Fleet has us mark it as biohazardous. It’s perfectly safe.”

“What is it?”

“An organic compound. It’ll help with your radiation treatment.” He cut off a chip of my spine. I heard the faint thump as it was dropped in a metal tray behind me. “Better that than having weeks of recovery treatment. You’re nothing to worry about.”

Then why isn’t it in the fleet’s database?

“We’ll start pumping in the new nanites,” Doctor Alba changed the subject. “Once we’re done we’ll do the same with your blood. This is the boring part.”

“I understand. Do you want me to enter sleep mode?”

“You’re fine.”

“Do you think the C4 is deformed?” Uri asked in a hushed tone.

“A bit,” she replied. “I think it’s okay, but the three and five have to go.”

“Might as well get all of them done. Don’t want the BICEFI spamming complaints.”

“Good idea. The last time, I wasted a week on their red tape. I hate it when they claim priority. They expect us to drop everything and get their shit done?”

“Not in front of the patient.” Uri’s tone warned.

“Sorry about that, cadet,” Doctor Alba quickly apologized. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

“I fully understand, ma’am.” Everyone was annoyed with the bureaucracy. At least in this case, they had sent me to go through partial reconstructive surgery. The nanite upgrade, the blood replacement, the spinal modification, even the classified biological compound all were to prepare me for the mission to come. And if I knew anything about bureaucrats, they always wanted a return on investment.

Quarantine removed

* * *

Bureaucrats always want a return on investment.

“You have a doctor,” I said. Speaking was still difficult, but I could already feel sensitivity returning to my mouth. Whatever Agora was, it worked fast.

“Hear that, Tilae?” Rigel laughed. “Ship says you’re a doctor.”

The other grunted and moved out of my field of vision.

“And you know what? You’re right. He is.” Rigel’s lips flickered in a half-smile. “You should be grateful to him. If it weren’t for good old Tilae, you’d have been dead already.”

“You shot me…”

“Yes, I had Ogum shoot you.” He waved a hand dismissively. “But if not him, your corporal would have, and he would have aimed for the head.”

“Kridib?” Textbook disorientation attempt. I must have observed scores of interrogations during which people—onboard rebels, for the most part—were tricked into turning on one another. All those memories were currently restricted, but the method was the same. “He’s trying to save me.”

“I doubt that.” The old man narrowed his eyes. “After he shot some of my men, he aimed for you. Ogum beat him to it by taking out your hip. His bullet wasn’t the one to hit your chest.”

I ran four simulations of the event. Based on the information I had both outcomes were technically possible. There had been the sound of a shot, followed by my leg blasting off. Isolated, there was a fifty-nine percent chance that Rigel’s explanation was correct. Once the communication was back up, I could attempt to check using Kridib’s mind link. Until then, every option was possible.

“Don’t believe me?” Rigel laughed.

“No.”

“Standard battleship protocols. Trust your captain before all others.” The man looked at the sky. “You must miss being up there. All that power and potential, held down by a network of restrictions the size of a pea. It’s the same for most people. We spend years fighting for an imaginary goal, when it only takes a nudge to show us the truth. The reason the corporal was after you was to get your core.” He paused and scratched the side of his chin. “Once your suicide chip didn’t go boom, he didn’t have another choice.”

The suicide chip. That was what I saw when Kridib had reached my expected location.

“You removed the capsule?” That explained why he’d need a doctor.

“Yes. Not to worry, Tilae sanitized you real good. Didn’t you Tilae?”

“You’re ranting again,” the doctor hissed.

“After thirty years in the shitter, I can have a talk with a young lady,” Rigel’s tone shifted. “Besides, she’s going to help us. She has no choice. Even if that ship is allowed to link up with her, it won’t change a thing.”

“That’s confident.” I tried to lift my head. The pain and stiffness were still there, but I was able to move.

“Then why not take advantage?” Rigel’s smile widened. “Maybe your ship will get in touch and you’ll be able to save hundreds of lives. Isn’t that what battleships crave?”

“Yes.” But only based on the circumstances. Certain missions had a higher priority than lives, regardless of how I felt about it.

“That’s a good start.” Rigel stood up and went out of view.

A few moments later, I heard a metallic clang and communication was restored. Images of Kridib started streaming through. He was under heavy fire, running through the wilderness. When he turned around to shoot, I saw the outskirts of the colony in the distance.

Captain Renaan was several steps in front, surrounded by five other troopers. I couldn’t see Nitel, but suspected he was there as well.

“Patcher three, report!” Kridib shouted in his com. “Patcher three, report!”

There was no answer.

“No response from Patcher three and six, sir.” Kridib gritted his teeth. The sound suppressors made his breathing audible. “That’s two more shuttles.”

Kridib, I said into his mind. What’s going on?

Elcy? As Kridib spoke, I felt a wave of concern in his thoughts. They’re taking the shuttles. Seven are lost and more to come.

That didn’t make sense. A shuttle’s AI wouldn’t allow anyone without authorization to activate it, and even if they did, there was nothing they could achieve. The shuttles were slow, poorly armed, and incapable of long-distance flight. Even if Radiance didn’t shoot them down, there was nowhere for them to go. Of course, it was possible that they didn’t want to take the shuttles, just destroy them. Rigel’s men had boxed in our troopers in the colony, not to pick them out, but to leave the shuttles unprotected. A flawed and desperate plan, but under the circumstances, it had become viable.

Are you heading towards a shuttle? I asked, realizing Rigel’s plans. Don’t go there! Rigel still has the artifacts! The moment you’re up, he’ll sever communications and you’ll crash.

Radiance did the math. He kept running. The shuttle won’t be affected.

Kridib, you idiot. That’s exactly what Rigel wants. He wouldn’t have given you safe passage to the shuttle unless you he wanted you on it!

In the sky, a craft flew above me. It wasn’t one of Radiance’s sats falling from low orbit or another Scuu pod; it was a shuttle, the make of which I had seen in Radiance’s hangars. The craft zipped through the air, leaving a white line in the cyan blue as it flew up, escaping the planet’s gravity.

“There they go,” Rigel said, moving closer. There were two third-contact rods in his hands. “The first people to escape this planet, all thanks to you.”

“They haven’t escaped.” They’ve launched a shuttle, I told Kridib. Tell Radiance to locate and destroy.

“Looks to me they have. Contact protocols forbid the use of missiles, virus transmissions, and any other electronic dependant systems,” the old man quoted. “If foreign biological substances are suspected, no boarding is to be initiated without priority one orders from HQ or the med core.”

“Clever.” All of Radiance’s knowledge concerning the third-contact artifacts was quarantined, so there was no way for her to foresee such an eventuality. In theory, I was supposed to be the same. “That’s why you needed a doctor.” How did you manage to get him to agree to this?

“Partially. One other thing we needed was proper authentication protocols to get the shuttles running.” He bent down above me and tapped the center of my forehead with a finger. “So, we took them from you.”