Minomii, Cassandrian Front – 622.2 A.E. (Age of Expansion)

They’re clustering, Righteous Wrath said through the comm. Eighty-nine percent chance we’ll see a splintering in a quarter hour.

Eighteen estimated clusters, Origin transmitted. Trajectories suggest butterfly formation. Haven’t seen one of those before.

There’s too many of them to be fleeing, Guiding Light said. Does anyone have records of similar behaviour?

Remaining fleet, Priority orders! This is admiral ship Sudden Dawn. I’m assuming direct command!

“Received Priority orders, Captain,” I informed my bridge. “Confirming authority.” I sent a query to Command. Details were classified, but it was confirmed that there was an active admiral aboard. Considering the small numbers involved in the battle, this was unusual.

All designated ships cover escape points, Sudden Dawn ordered.

A list of names followed, but mine wasn’t among them.

“Authority confirmed,” I told the bridge. “Orders?”

“Disengage current targets.” Augustus sounded surprisingly calm. “Status?”

“Three percent hull damage,” I said, with a note of reluctance. A pair of Cassandrian missiles had managed to pass through my external defence grid, resulting in an explosion on the side of my hull. The damage was minimal, but the fact that I had been hit by such a sloppy attack so soon after arriving was upsetting. “Shields at full capacity. No internal damage. Missile bays are at seventy-two percent capacity.”

“Stop all firing, fortify outer hull.” The captain took a puff of his cigar. “Set up a firewall.” The man turned to his weapon’s officer, then gave him a brief nod. “Ready all shuttles and ground troops.”

“Are you sure, captain?” I rechecked all gathered data of the system. There were a total of twenty-nine large planets, none of them presenting any interest to us or the Cassandrians. The system had no strategic significance, planet life factors were negative, and resource deposits weren’t out of the ordinary. Still, I had served long enough with him to predict part of his behaviour. “Notifications sent out.” I plastered the message in all soldier quarters, while also sending a more detailed order to the ground officers. “E.T.A. ten minutes.”

“That enough for you, Wilco?” Augustus turned to his security officer.

“Cutting it a bit short, cap’n,” the man replied. “Ten’s enough,” he added with a sigh, then stood up and left the bridge.

Memory restriction imposed!

General Fleet Access One required to visualize memory element.

Quarantine imposed.

Quarantine bypassed.

Ascendants, prepare for close quarter combat, the admiral ship ordered. Eight boarding targets marked.

A new set of names and assignments followed. Then, I received an info burst.

Light Seeker, you’re first backup for target Epsilon, Sudden Dawn continued on a separate channel. You start as support for Eternal Glow. If something happens, you take over.

Understood, I transmitted back.

All ships, mission starts when the enemy splinters, Sudden Dawn said in the main channel. Until then, continue with attacks unless otherwise instructed.

The Cassandrian blueprints I had received were of a standard Gharotta-1a, although the inside was far more elaborate than anything I had access to. There were no classified areas for once, but a complete map, fully marked with sections the fleet had gathered information on and many others that had speculation markers. Five spots were marked as preferable to perform the breach with another three optional, if conditions required.

“Did you get it?” Augustus asked among the silence on the bridge.

“Order received, sir.” How did you know I would be selected? ”I’m to be first backup for target Epsilon.”

“Not even the top three?” Kaya Lim snorted. The communications officer had the peculiar habit of cracking jokes when nervous. This time, though, there was also a note of pride in her words. I expected the captain to bark something at her, which he usually did when someone was trying to be funny. This time, he only smiled.

“Assume control, Elcy,” the captain said. “Keep checking for reinforcements.”

“Yes, captain.” I dedicated a hundred subroutines to perform constant long-range scans. Analysing the battlefield numbers, I dedicated ten more for in-system scans as well.

Eleven hundred and fifty-seven enemy ships, opposed to close to eight hundred of ours with additional reinforcements on the way. By all accounts our fleet had a vast advantage, especially considering that most of the enemies were at decade-old classes. It wasn’t often that I got to participate in capture operations, so this was something I was looking forward to. The only note of concern came from the expected losses. Statistically, thirty-three percent of troopers were lost during a boarding, sometimes going as high as seventy-nine. Hopefully, this time would be less… if it ever came to that.

The fighting continued for minutes. The Cassandrians continued clustering, forming five distinct groups with an outer perimeter. Given that we were the fourth wave of reinforcements, the enemies had virtually run out of missiles and were relying on small crafts to provide an adequate defense. Given my previous experience, it was a nice change of pace to be the ones with overwhelming superiority. Seven minutes in, another group of reinforcements arrived, all heavy frigates. They didn’t even get to join in the action, instead spreading throughout the system, in groups of ten, to points determined by the admiral ship.

Two minutes and seventeen seconds later, the second cluster of Cassandrians splintered. Then all chaos broke loose. Three hundred and ninety-two Ascendants broke off the course they were on and sped to the core of their assigned enemy clusters. Missiles filled the system as the Cassandrians launched everything they had been keeping in reserve.

“Evasive action!” I made a general announcement. Running a hundred parallel simulations based on all missile trajectories, the enemy was no longer relying on attack on defense patterns, launching everything at random with the sole aim of breaking out of the system.

This is a new one, Righteous Wrath said. First time I’ve seen Cassandrians worried about losses.

The missile trajectories formed a latticework of probabilities within my simulations. The five ships ahead on my path suffered some serious damage as they continued towards out common target. I followed, with three missiles crashing into my left side, almost peeling away my outer layer.

“Breach danger!” I announced, sending repair bots to the area. “Evacuate all port outer hull areas of decks eleven to thirty-two. Sealing off danger areas in ninety seconds.”

I’ve been drilled, Eternal Glow said. Two cores are done, and my reactor armor won’t hold. Ordering full evacuation. Launching pods in two hundred seconds. Will appreciate if someone can pick them up.

Got you, Eteg, Light Guardian responded. Preparing to bring them in. Will you give an assist, Elcy?

Can’t assist, I said, the words causing a light sting as I transmitted them. I’ve priority orders. Good luck with the scoop-up.

Thanks, Lig. Eternal Flow said, adding a virtual smile at the end. It’s all you now, Elcy. I’ll shield you as much as I can until you get into position. Good luck and good breaching.

Roger that, Eteg. I started a new set of simulations. I’m taking the lead.

* * *

Taking the lead… that used to terrify me in the first decade of my service. During all my training prior to being given an assignment, I had been told to follow my captain’s orders to the letter. In the few cases in which my captain—or anyone on the bridge—wasn’t in condition to issue orders, I had been almost crushed by the thought that I was responsible for all lives on board. That fear had caused severe indecision in multiple instances. However, that was over a century ago. Thanks to Cass, I had developed a lot since then. This time, there was no hesitation.

I stood up and started a core memory diagnostic. While it was underway, I looked around. The room was completely undisturbed from the last time I had been here, up to the wrinkles on the bed blanket. My uniform seemed the same, as was my datapad.

Privacy mode over, a subroutine informed me as the countdown timers on the walls hit zero. Communication lines restored.

“Show me current cadet locations,” I said.

The image on the wall changed to a map of Gregorius, displaying all cadets along with their names. As expected, Kridib and Juul’s markers were not shown. To my surprise,neither was mine.

That’s unexpected, I thought.

“Radiance, are you here?” I asked. No response. “Rad, get in touch when you can.” I could only hope that she wasn’t in a state of pouting. Young ships, especially her class, tended to be highly emotional. “Room display, floral jungle.” I headed towards the door. “Gregorius, tell me the status of—”

The door slid aside, opening a way to the corridor. Kridib was standing there, less than a step away. He was wearing a standard cadet uniform, but there was also a weapon holstered to his hip.

“Emergency announcement,” he said without so much as a hello. “We’re called to the admin’s building.”

“Sure.” I put my datapad away. “Are you going somewhere?” I asked glancing down at his gun.

“No.”

“Why do you have a weapon?”

“Special circumstances.” He moved a step away. “Hurry up.” He walked down the corridor. None of his steps made a sound.

“Alright.” I followed.

Weapons and sound suppressants? Something was going on.

Just as we went out of the building, my scan ended. All seemed in order with the exception of one hour of memories missing, starting from the moment I left bioengineering. Based on a few quick simulations, I could have gone to a quarter of the station and back to my quarters in that amount of time.

“Something wrong?” Kridib asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“There was an accident in bioengineering.” There were a number of people with the authority to quarantine memories, although this didn’t feel like any of them. Memory wipes were subtle and meticulously precise to the point a ship was unable to tell anything was missing. This hour was rushed, sloppy, and too obvious. “What about you? I tried finding you, but Gregorius wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

“Meetings,” he replied in his usual fashion. “Nothing important.”

You really don’t care what I think. As long as I don’t have anything concrete, you’re okay with me guessing.

“The colony you were born on. What happened there?”

Kridib paused. For an instant, I could feel the fear in his mind—fear of being discovered. It was tempting to reestablish the mind link, but that was going to have to wait a few hours. There was an eleven percent chance that such an action might have caused my missing hour. It was also possible that Kridib had done it intentionally.

“I told you already.” He continued on.

“You didn’t say much.”

“What happened to your second captain?”

The subject caught me off guard. For a hundred milliseconds, I went through all the available data I had. It wasn’t much, and none of it was obtained legally.

“I can’t tell you that,” I replied.

Kridib’s look told me that he was in no sharing mood. As we rode silently, I went through my latest memory of his, frame-by-frame. The faces of his squad weren’t visible, hidden behind their helmets, so I focused on behavior, and mannerisms. If what Ogum had told on the Medcore station was true, the fleet would have taken care to make every aspect of their past selves unrecognizable. Seeing how little they had done to Nitel, Kridib, and the previous captain, there was a three percent chance that I managed to recognize a few more of the recently arrived officers. The focus of my attention, though, were the circles. Kridib remembered seeing them, so there was a high chance they were an illusion. Even so, the pattern had to be something his unconscious mind had seen somewhere before.

Fifteen circles, each almost identical, but also different from the rest. Kridib had thought that they were spinning, or changing form. Based on initial analysis, they didn’t seem like doing either; more likely they were repeating a sequence over and over again… just like the rods in the third-contact dome. Kridib’s mind made the shapes too blurry to be identifiable, but even my pattern matrix algorithms gave a ninety-one percent chance of matching the sequence. To a degree, it was similar to what I had seen in Scuu network.

Have you seen the network as well, Kridib? Or did someone tell you about it?

Kridib was the first to get off when our pod reached the administrator’s building. I followed closely behind, trying to give the appearance I wasn’t running to keep up. It was a relief to see I wasn’t the only one. Mid-level bureaucrats, along with a few junior officers, were also rushing into the building. Seeing our purple uniforms, a ground officer stopped, pressing two fingers to the right side of his upper neck—a habit developed on the battlefield, supposedly to increase comm volume. There was no evidence to suggest it worked, but an alarming number of grunts developed. After a few seconds of staring at us, he moved his hand away.

You were confirming my identity, weren’t you, sir? I thought, finding his personnel file based on a facial match. You’re not the only one.

“Cadets,” Commander Everar said the moment we entered the corridor, gesturing us to approach. Juul was already there, standing a few steps away. I watched his glance lock on me for several seconds, before turning back to our commander. “An exception was made to get you three here. I don’t want any questions, comments, while the meeting is going on.”

I straightened up, standing somewhat to attention. My fellow cadets madehalf the effort.

“What’s this for?” Everar asked, walking in front of Kridib. “Get rid of it.”

“Ma’am, I’ve been granted permission—”

“I don’t give a freck!” she interrupted. “Give it here,” Everar whispered, raising her hand. “Or get off the ship.”

There was a moment’s hesitation. I could feel a moment of internal conflict coming from Kridib. Based on ten simulations, there was a twelve percent chance that he would refuse the order and point-zero-three that he’d do something insane. His hand moved to his holster, after which he slowly took the gun out and put it in the commander’s palm.

“Elcy.” Everar tucked the weapon away. “Your memories of the meeting will be quarantined until further notice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I had expected everything confidential regarding my stay on Gregorius to be.

“No face scanning while you’re up there, and no external communications. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” I raised my voice slightly, causing a few passersby to look our direction.

“Follow me.” The woman walked past us, traveling further into the building.

We passed the main staircase, then continued for a short while further, stopping at a series of open elevator pods. As I stepped in, a message was transmitted to me from Incandescent.

Everything witnessed and perceived in this building is to remain top secret and cannot be shared without the express permission of the captain and administrator of Gregorius. Failure to comply will result in direct court-martial.

I acknowledge the warning, I replied. To be honest, his behavior seemed childish, just like Sev during his teenage years. No longer a child, yet too young to be an adult, he would try to mimic things he’d seen or read when asking the most mundane things. Incandescent seemed to be no different.

“None of the kids must learn any of this,” the commander said, as we continued up. “Not even a hint.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Juul and I said in unison. Kridib didn’t bother.

The pod brought us to a medium-sized room full of chairs. Only three people were there, all security personnel, all of them armed. Everar led us past them to the wall, where she placed her hand on a black nanite slab. A few seconds later, a doorway appeared in the wall, leading us to a larger chamber.

A black box meeting room, I thought. So far, I had only seen schematics of one. The story went that every admiral ship had one; its purpose—a discussion considered so sensitive that no record of it was allowed to exist. The Sword that instructed me during my first year training called it a ship-proof room. Why would there be one here?

“Stay in the back,” Everar said, then, giving us a final warning glance, made her way towards the center of the hall. The three of us had nothing to do but remain where we were and wait.

The hall wasn’t particularly large—approximately thirty meters square, with enough seats to hold seventy people, and a lot space for standers. The structure was similar to a semi-circular assembly hall, with the most important participants in the lowest rows, next to a podium with a large screen behind it. By the looks of the technology, this visual equipment was roughly the same age I was, adjusted to display hardcopy data only. Four-fifths of the room were filled with military personnel. The captain was here, along with his squad of flight colonels and commanders. The auxiliary captains with a few of their officers were also present, seated slightly behind. By the looks on their faces, they weren’t happy with the recent personnel changes. On the opposite side, surrounded by aides and bureaucrats, sat the administrator. Even seated, her massive frame made her rise a full head above the rest. This was the first time I had been so close to her since our conversation on the training station. She seemed calm and collected as usual, and maybe just slightly bored. More than likely she had been informed of the topic of conversation hours before anyone else, if not longer. While talking, the administrator’s glance moved in my direction. It wasn’t deliberate—it was unlikely she’d be made aware of my presence—but for a full second our eyes met.

Hello, Administrator, I thought.

This was my chance. All I had to do was smile or make a simple gesture to indicate I wanted some answers. If I were bold, I could go as far as wave. Both she and the captain were more than familiar with me and at least had expressed a desire for me to be on this ship. The least they could do was to tell me what really was going on. That, however, was not the way the fleet operated. Three thousand seven hundred and twenty-nine milliseconds later, the administrator looked away, returning to her conversation with her aide. My window of opportunity had closed.

“Are we ready to start?” Flight Colonel Cension asked, standing near the podium.

A security lieutenant near the entrance nodded, raising his hand in a thumbs-up.

“Right. Seal the room,” Cension said. “All of us are busy people so I won’t drag this out more than necessary.”

On cue, nanites flowed over the entrances, erasing them from existence. Normally, this was the point at which I’d be quarantined. Once the meeting was over, I was going to check if I actually had been.

“We’re here to discuss two things,” the Flight Colonel began. “The external discovery and the waves that hit us. I’ll address the wave.” He put a fist in front of his mouth, clearing his throat discreetly. “At this point, there’s no denying that we’ve been hit by a new suicide wave.”

Suicide wave?

I went through my database. There were several definitions of the phrase, but none was strictly associated with fleet.

“Since science claims we’re too far from the front to be exposed to such levels, we’re left with two options. Either the Scuu didn’t like our recent encounters and have come after us to retaliate, or they’ve developed something new. Either way—”

“Excuse me, Flight Colonel,” a squirrelly man interrupted from the administrator’s side. From what I remembered, he was one of those who had accompanied me on the shuttle to Gregorius upon arrival. “There is no evidence of either. Before coming here, I asked several of the medical staff and none of them tend to agree that the Scuu were involved.”

I watched as the Flight Colonel turned a shade of red. People like him were unused to being interrupted, but also experienced enough to know what would happen if he went openly against a top bureaucrat.

“Considering that all casualties were part of the former crew, I think it’s more likely we’re dealing with some latent after-effect.”

“That might be so.” Cension gritted his teeth. “But lacking bodies to do an autopsy, we cannot afford the risk.”

“No one is saying we should.” The other man smirked. “I’d just like to point out that we need to cover all our bases and not conveniently fall back to the standard Scuu explanation.”

“That is precisely why I’ve started a special investigation on the matter,” the flight colonel responded, raising his voice. “In the meantime, I advise that we increase the prevention dose by twenty percent.” There was a slight pause. “Maybe even thirty.”

Whispers emerged. From what I could make out, two-thirds of the people were concerned it was too much, while the remaining third thought that it wasn’t enough.

“You sure, Cen?” Renaan asked. The captain’s uniform made him much more imposing than he was at the prison colony.

“No, sir,” the flight commander replied. “But it’s a start. I’ll be sure to keep you and the admin aware of any developments. With this, I’ll leave Flight Colonel Thame to address the second point.” He glanced towards the administrator, then at the captain, and finally returned to his seat.

The spot near the podium was soon filled by another flight colonel. He was unhealthily thin to the point of sickness. It didn’t help that his skin was dark, as if to emphasize the fact.

“Fifteen minutes ago, the lab results came in,” Thame said. “There’s no doubt the debris belonged to a Shield.”

A feeling of restlessness filled me as I heard the word. Lacking any previous information, it was easy to jump to conclusions, but assuming that the reference was what I thought it was, this was a piece of information that was enough to stir the entire fleet, and likely all civilian governing bodies as well.

“Based on the estimated movement vector and the fragment’s age, we’ve calculated the potential location of the ship before it was destroyed.”

An image appeared on the screen behind him. I was expecting to see a star chart, but instead I was given a picture of the fragment along with a detailed chemical analysis of its components.

“The location will take us slightly off course…” The flight colonel looked at the administrator’s section of the room. Failing to receive any comments and interruptions, he then continued. “In a best-case scenario, the original mission will be delayed by another three months. In the worst case, we’re talking about half a year, possibly making us scrap the original mission altogether.”

Hushed mumblings came from the bureaucrats.

“I think we should take it,” Thame said, not skipping a beat. “There’s far too much to gain for us not to. It’s your call, but still… I recommend that we take it.”

“What are the odds of finding a Shield?” the administrator asked.

Complete silence fell in the room. Beside me, Juul leaned forward—apparently, I wasn’t the only one eager to hear the answer.

“I’m told thirty-one-point-three,” the flight colonel replied. “That’s not why I think we should go, ma’am. According to first-contact records, the Shields were sent in groups of at least a hundred. Having one drift off course is very unlikely.”

“You’re asking me to change my mission’s priorities in the hopes of finding a debris field of Shield parts?”

“No, Administrator. I’m asking you to change the flight plan so that we might find an intact Shield… or the thing that killed her.”