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Scuu Front, System Unknown, Planet Unknown

The map marker kept flashing less than a hundred meters from our position, and still we couldn’t see any trace of abnormality. Spicer had asked to move in closer, but I’d refused. A hundred meters was already pushing it. If any Scuu tech was active, it could take out the entire squad, never mind the two of us. Also, based on Incandescent’s sudden silence, it didn’t look like we’d get any support from him, either.

“Status?” Sergeant Nitel voice boomed in my helmet.

Same as thirty seconds ago, you shit! “No activity, Sarge.” I looked at the spot through my sights. Nothing but rocks, rising up to a dark sky.

“Open fire on the location,” came the order. “We’ll be there in three minutes.”

“There’s no telling what might pop up.” I wanted to kill him. A few steps away, Spicer readied his weapon. After all this time, I couldn’t tell if he was an idiot or just crazy. “We’ve no gear to handle Spinners.”

“Fire at the target, Corporal!”

There it was, another stupid order I was forced to follow.

The circles in front of my eyes moved about. A new one appeared, shifting the rows to four by four. If things continued like this, I wouldn’t be able to target anything at all. Either that, or the headache was going to kill me.

“Go for it,” I told Spicer.

There was no argument or hesitation. Spicer was not one to think far ahead. An order was an order. Often, he’d joke that the secret to life was seeing three orders ahead. Considering it had helped him to survive for so long, maybe he was on to something.

The bullet grazed the stone, bouncing off further up the mountain. A few seconds later, Spicer fired three more shots. The result was the same.

“Enough?” Spicer swapped his clip for a full one. “Or do you want me to keep going?

The marker didn’t budge.

“Pause.” I opened an area map on my visor. Nitel and the rest of the group were three hundred meters back, taking their time approaching. Even an idiot could tell they were using us as fodder.

You bastard, Nitel. I gritted my teeth. Well, if that’s how you want it. ”Fire it up.” I looked at Spicer. “I’ll take the blame”

“Any you want it, Corporal.” I could hear the grin in his voice.

They said that soldiers on the Cassandrian front were given four high intensity grenades every mission to fight their way through the enemy. We had been given none. That way, the brass could rest easy that we wouldn’t blow ourselves up without their command. Spicer was different. When it came to firepower, what he didn’t have, he could get, and what he couldn’t get, he could make. The captain and all the grunt officers knew about it, but pretended not to notice. Scuu scavenging teams weren’t expected to live long anyway.

Leaving his rifle on the ground, Spicer took one of the charges attached to his suit. Each was slightly larger than a thumb, with enough power to blast anything in a five-step radius, and shrapnel a target up to fifty meters away. Even in low gravity there was no guarantee he’d throw it that far, so he adapted it for his rifle... with Incandescent’s help.

“That junk will kill us one day,” I said, looking through the circles.

“Yeah,” he laughed. Unlike me, Spicer was one of the smart grunts. Word was that his stepfather had been some uni teacher or something. While the rest of used our allocated SR time to wind down, Spicer learned how to build new things to explode. “But not before the Scuu.” He took aim and fired.

A shot sounded, followed several seconds later by a pop of dust in the target area. I looked at my visor’s map. The marker was still there.

“No change, Sarge.” I ran a new scan. “Spicer, confirm my readings.”

“Big nothing, Corporal.” He placed another charge on his rifle muzzle. “Another go?”

Might as well. “No.” I turned around. From this distance, I could see the rest of the squad, half a klick away. “Watch the marker, we’ll wait for the Sarge to—”

A high-pitched sound drilled my ears—the anti-Scuu prototypes had gone in full force. Warnings covered my visor, blocking half the view with red letters.

Scuu frequency detected!

Communication channels have been emergency encrypted!

System shut-down mode engaged!

The virtual map and all readings disappeared, leaving the visor of my helmet blank. From here on, I couldn’t rely on any information it gave. The circles, though, remained spinning like crazy in front of my eyes.

“We got movement!” I shouted, hitting the ground. A few steps away Spicer fired another explosive round, then continued with normal ammunition. “What’s your visual?”

There was no reply. I couldn’t be sure he even registered the question, shooting like there was no tomorrow. I aimed my weapon at the spot, but didn’t pull the trigger.

Orbital support! I thought on instinct. Where’s the orbital support?

Dust and stones flew in all directions as a buried piece of tech emerged from the marker point. One glance was enough to tell me we were dead.

“Colonel, what’s the status?” I heard Nitel shout. His voice felt so distant that he might as well have been on the Incandescent. “Spicer’s not responding! Colonel? Colonel!”

Fuck you too, Sarge, I thought.

Command had guaranteed that the area was safe. They had assured us that other teams had been through here before, leaving nothing but the junk behind. We were only supposed to scavenge the crumbs that were left. Quick mission, minimal risk, no danger of combat… If they were telling the truth, they had done a piss poor job. Barely a full squad, we had activated a dormant Spinner.

“Spinner!” I opened fire. “We need reinforcements.”

“You two get back!” the sergeant ordered. “Everyone else form a defensive perimeter.”

Crazy bastard! You’re ready to die with us, aren’t you? Guess I wasn’t able to outlive you after all…

Authorization rescinded.

I remained on the floor of my quarters, looking at the black ceiling above. Kridib’s memory leak had been surprising, appearing without warning, though for the moment that wasn’t what had me concerned. My thoughts remained on my conversation with Radiance. Ever since I had returned, I had been running simulations to try and guess what she would do, and the results remained inconclusive. If I were in a similar situation, there was a ninety-seven percent chance that I would keep the memory of the event, regardless of the pain it brought. Running the simulation with only my first-year memories, the chance dropped to seventy-one. Radiance wasn’t like me. The personality core she had been given seemed far more flexible than mine, but was all that more affected by emotions.

Hang in there, Radiance, I thought. Hopefully she had chosen to keep her memories, but either way, I was going to have to save mine in case she needed to turn to me. Back when I was a ship, I had enough processing power to be there for my entire crew, ground troopers included, while also performing all tasks I was given by my captain. At the moment, I didn’t even have the processing power to fully do two things simultaneously. Certain things would have to wait until others were completed. I didn’t enjoy the notion; sequential existence remained something I couldn’t get used to—it reminded me that I was missing most of my cores.

Emergency notification request, Gregorius’ subroutine transmitted to me. An emergency communication request from an immediate family member has been made and approved by fleet command. Your allocated slot has been set to for twenty hours from now. Barring medical orders and military emergency, you have been allowed to ignore all duties and activities as per the Personal Freedoms Act.

“Who sent the request?” I sat up. Sev’s health was quite well for his age, according to Alexander, but there was no denying that he wasn’t young and spent most of his life in a mostly rural environment.

Information not specified, the subroutine replied. You are allowed to make an emergency query should it affect your safety or psychological performance.

“No need.” I knew it was a trick question. Everyone who had made the request during the time I was on the front had then undergone special evaluation to determine whether they were fit to remain in the fleet. Twenty-three percent hadn’t been.

Three past four in the morning—too early for work, too late for everything else. Resetting my matching parameters based on Kridib’s new memories, I put on my uniform and went outside. The decks were largely empty. Only security personnel were visible, walking slowly in groups of four. That was pretty common for this time, though their combat gear wasn’t: RG-5 assault rifles, extended length barrel. The make was older than what I’d seen in the academy, but the specs were similar; this was a weapon aimed for medium and long-distance combat, definitely not something for crowd control.

Gregorius, are there any security changes? I asked.

A millisecond of static came in response.

Incandescent? I paused close to the transport pod spot.

Yes, the ship replied. The new head of security didn’t agree with our previous protocols.

That was an elegant way of saying it was one change of many to come. Being a Scuu veteran, he likely didn’t want to take the risk of increased incidents. If he were smart, the weapons would be filled with tranq projectiles. Knowing the people he had served with before being sent away, I doubted it.

Where’s Radiance? She said she’d be free to talk to me, I lied.

Scheduled maintenance.

The timing seemed incredibly convenient.

Long overdue. Just as yours is, he quickly added, changing the topic. Medical have been asking when you’d grace them with your presence.

I’m heading there now, I smiled. After I spend a while in a garden.

Do your checkup first. Gregorius is running diagnostics in a few sections. There was a smug pause. Gardens are off limits for a few hours. All gardens.

I’ll try to not forget that.

Incandescent’s attempts at sarcasm were cute for a two-year-old, though nowhere near that for an older ship. If Augustus were his captain, I could safely predict there would have been a lot of shouting and yelling until he was put in his place. Probably as much as I had gone through.

When the pod arrived, I directed it to take me to the eastern forest. The chance of Incandescent lying to me was less than a thousandth of a percentage point, but I decided to check all the same. Fifty meters before I even approached the dome, red warnings covered the floor.

Ongoing deep diagnostics. All gardens are off limits. Access is not allowed!

“Think you’ll be done before work?” I asked.

A countdown counter appeared next to the message indicating there were eighty-nine minutes remaining. If nothing else, Gregorius was developing a sense of humor. Back during my first few years, I used to mimic humor a lot. It was obvious to everyone that I was way off, but each time it managed to divert the focus of what was going on. Gregorius was doing the same, and the top reason he would do that was because he and his auxiliary fleet were preparing for war, possibly against an unknown enemy. Radiance destroying a Shield probably had accelerated that, but even if she hadn’t, the result would have been the same. Now that the course was locked in, we were going to face the Scuu, or someone who was capable of keeping them at bay—the third-contact race.

“Tell me if you’re done sooner,” I said to the message on the floor and walked away.

One front at a time, I told myself. All I had to do was to complete this mission. If I managed that, I’d get a clean slate and get a proper front assignment. Also, for once Lux would owe me.

Two platoons of soldiers ran past as I was making my way to the medical building. Standard drills to keep them in a constant shape in readiness. If my guess was correct, that too would increase in the weeks to come.

The closer I got to medical, the more images were running on the walls—an indication I was in a civilian sector. Without a doubt, a lot had changed since the last time I had been here. It didn’t look like Gregorius’ work, but there were enough bureaucrats whose job was to create a “soothing” atmosphere for all non-combat oriented. During my final tour, Cass had done the same, placing vegetation all over my decks. Here, everything was deliberately sterile.

Four people were at medical when I arrived, a couple of young techs and two off-duty soldiers. None of their personnel files were particularly special.

“Nice to finally see you, cadet,” an android said, her voice unmistakably testy.

That was new. Apparently, security weapons weren’t the only changes that had taken place. The model was nothing I had on file, but the ident tag on the side of her head told me she was produced four months ago, military issue. I could only guess that in the core of human space, the war political factions were winning.

“Right this way and I’ll take you to your long overdue medical checkup,” the android continued, inviting me down one of the short corridors.

“Better late than never, ma’am,” I replied with a smile and did as instructed.

The last time I was here, a green line had led me to the room where my modifications were made. This time, I was led to a smaller room with a large ring scanner in the middle. A slightly sleepy doctor was there, sitting on a high chair next to a desk of data equipment. Upon seeing me, he quickly stood up.

“Cadet Light Seeker is here for her ship medical,” the android announced. “Shall I set up the procedure?”

“Um…” The doctor looked at me, then at the android, then back at me. “Eh, yes, thank you Retta.” He paused for several seconds more, uncertain what to do next. “You were a battleship?”

“Still am, sir,” I replied. “Ascendant, Cassandrian front.”

“Ah.” The doctor smiled and nodded, giving me the impression that he was blanking out on who I was. “Well, this won’t take long. Would you mind undressing for the scan, please?”

For a fraction of a second, I heard the android scoff. As a medical assistant she probably knew the ins and outs of the facility better than the doctor. Checking my file, I saw that he was new—virtually an intern that had arrived during the time I was on my mission. Clearly, he had never dealt with a retired ship before, and by his reaction so far, not with many patients either.

“You can make use of the screen.” He waved absentmindedly at a cabin of transparent glass a few steps from the ring scanner. “There’s a table where you can put your uniform.”

“Yes, sir.” I did as asked.

“Have you been experiencing any headaches or nausea lately?” the doctor asked, the usual questions. “Blurry vision, strange sensations of smell or taste?”

“No, sir.” Based on my simulations, attempting humor on someone as new him was not desirable. “Sir, if I may ask, are you familiar with my recent history?” I stood on my toes, looking at him above the matte section of the glass screen.

“Recent history?” The man took a datapad from the nearby desk and stared at it.

“She was in a state of semi-death,” the android assistant reminded. “Case two-two-seventeen.”

“Ah,” the doctor replied staring at the datapad even more intensely. “Ah! You’re the one who—” He stopped. “Well.” He put the datapad behind his back, tapping on it with both thumbs. “Good thing you came for a checkup, then. Please walk to the scanner.”

The floor felt cool under my feet. I made my way to the small spot on the floor at the scanner ring. A thousand and fifty-three milliseconds later, the ring slowly tilted to surround me.

“Any recent medical procedures?” the doctor asked out of habit. “Other than what we know about?” he added quickly, flustering slightly.

“Just the two, sir.” Does the procedure after my death count? Rigel had my skull opened, not to mention that he had patched me up with Agora. There was no telling what else he might have done. “Were you informed of my reconstruction, sir?”

“Reconstruction?” The man turned toward the medical android. There was no response. Apparently, he didn’t have the security clearance to know about the Agora.

“The surgery before returning to the ship,” I said vaguely.

“There are some specifics mentioned in your file,” the doctor said. I could feel the hesitation in his voice. “Anyway, let’s have a look.”

The scanning process began. A low hum filled the room as the ring moved up and down, bombarding me with waves while simultaneously taking specialized readings from my nanites.

“Your bone density is slightly off,” the man said. “Nothing that a change in diet won’t fix.”

Bone density again. It seemed I was losing it no matter what I did. When I was with Sev, that never was a problem. Having a human body, it seemed, came with a price—being less suited for space than I would have liked.

“Your nanites are top of the line. Better than anything we’ve got.”

“Thank you, sir.” You don’t know a thing about the med station, do you?

“Everything else seems fine… Looks like you won’t need another checkup for the next six months.”

“Ships usually have weekly checkups,” the android reminded. “In her case, twice per month would be sufficient”

“Huh? I didn’t see that in her file…”

The android gave me a look, as if saying, “Sorry, he’s new.” I nodded in return.

“I’ll have to consult the doctor Gilten on that,” the doctor said. “That sounds a bit excessive, even for a—”

The ring suddenly froze halfway up. From what I knew about the procedure, the minimum number of scans were three full cycles, to eliminate any potential scanning errors. For it to stop in such fashion without any warning indication could mean only one thing—something had threatened Gregorius’ core routines. When I was a ship, the only time I would cut off medical equipment aboard me was when a virus attack had breached my firewalls or in case of ship mutiny.

“That’s strange,” the doctor began. “I haven’t—"

“Move away from the door!” I ordered. For Gregorius to have initiated this, there had to be something he wanted to keep out… or in. “What can be used as a weapon?” I asked the android.

“Nothing here,” she replied, moving towards the wall. “The med bots have sedative shots on them, but they are in the basement. There might be something in one of the surgery rooms…”

Surgery rooms. Even if there were any there, they would likely be locked away. Pausing all simulations, I started running possible strategies. The lack of general alarm suggested that only a small section of the ship was affected, which also meant there was a seventy-six percent chance medical was targeted.

“Gregorius, what’s going on?” the doctor asked. There was no response. “Gregorius, this is a top priority medical order.” There was a shiver in his voice. “What is going on?”

“What are the suicide wave numbers?” I asked, moving next to the entrance.

“That’s confidential data,” the doctor recited the usual line. His face was covered in sweat.

“I have administrator clearance.” Since she had brought me here, she could at least take care of a few lies. “How many?”

“Thirty-eight in the last two days… do you think it’s the Scuu? Are they doing this? Are they in the ship?”

So, the amount is increasing. ”Does the door have a manual override?” I glanced at the android.

“Yes, but no one has the required authorization.”

Leave it to bureaucracy to mess things up. “Take care,” I whispered and went outside. The lights in the corridor and entrance hall remained lit as before, however there was something else in the air: the sharp chemical smell of a weapon’s discharge, as well as the faint smell of blood.

The med facility is under attack, I transmitted to Gregorius and Incandescent. Thirty milliseconds passed without reply. The fact that communication wasn’t blocked gave me hope that the ships were observing the situation. I’ve detected blood traces in the air. At least one person has been wounded. Proceeding to the main hall.

Based on my simulations there were seven positions when were advantageous for any attacker to take; four of them relied on the element of surprise, three didn’t. Considering I didn’t know anything about the attackers I had to prepare for all eventualities. Heading directly for the exit gave me an eighty-one chance of success. Once out it would be easy to get the attention of a security team, or a squad of training ground troops. However, I chose the second-best option—leap to the right once in the entrance hall, and deal with any threat there. It was going to leave me dangerously exposed, but the chance of potential attackers reaching the intern doctor fell to under one percent.

You always complained I didn’t go with the odds, I thought remembering the grumblings of my first captain.

The instant I appeared in the corridor I heard the sound of a trigger click. Without hesitation I leaned backwards, turning my head to scan the area, while swerving to the left. Two bodies—both grunt privates—lay bloody in the far side of the hall. Judging by the blood trail, they had been pulled so I wouldn’t see them from the corridor.

Moving my head along a virtual semi-circle, I saw my future attacker. She was a young, frail woman—Iles Sabina, a twenty-six-year-old assistant cook, according to her personnel file—with short hazel hair, holding a military issue rifle. Reviewing my recent memories, she was part of the couple upon my arrival… and looked just as unwell now as she did then. Seeing me change direction, the woman attempted to adjust her aim, but her reaction was too slow. The muzzle flashed, shooting out a projectile in my general direction.

Sound suppressor, I thought as I plunged towards the floor. As I did, I caught sight of another attacker. Poiter Sabina, her husband of three months and a class two weapons technician, was also there, positioned in one of the three spots I had calculated. A second muzzle flash flickered, giving me barely enough time to twist in the air. By all calculations there was a seven percent chance that I would be grazed, though by no means fatally. Poiter had acted too fast, which was to my advantage. That, though, was where my advantages ended. My speed might have caught them off guard initially, but if I didn’t go on an immediate counterattack, they would adjust and riddle the space with bullets.

According to two of the five of my simulations, the next series of shots would follow once I reached the ground. There was a thirty-one percent chance that Iles switched to automatic, giving me a few more seconds, but that wasn’t something I could count upon.

Two attackers, I transmitted on an open channel, sending their idents. Both armed. Two grunts have been killed. There might be more outside.

No sooner had both bullets missed wide, than another flash came from Poiter’s weapon. Its trajectory didn’t give me much room to maneuver, drilling through the side of my calf as I pushed myself forward from the ground. Meanwhile, his wife switched her weapon to automatic fire. Her action took approximately two seconds—enough for me to make her the target. Propelling myself in her direction, I dashed forward. If Kridib were shooting at me, he’d have killed me again by now. Hopefully, Poiter was less skilled in that aspect.

Two more shots were fired before I halved the distance to Iles. The woman registered my action. This was the point at which she should have pointed her weapon forward and fired without aiming. Instead, she took a step back.

Got you, I thought.

A third shot flashed as the previous two hit the wall, held in place by the nanite surface. I reached out and grabbed the weapon’s muzzle. Heated by the recent shots, the metal surface burned into my palm. The pain was easily ignored as I pulled the rifle towards me, sliding behind the woman so as to use her as a shield against her husband.

“Stop!” I shouted, twisting the weapon out of Iles’ hands. The action was surprisingly easy.

Regulations allowed me to kill both of them on the spot without consequences. That wasn’t the optimal course of action, though. There were several things I wanted to ask before it came to that.

“What’s the target?” I put my right forearm under the woman’s throat, while aiming the rifle at her husband with my left. “Are there others?”

When faced with hostage situations, there was a ninety-three percent certainty that a human would hesitate. Regardless of intentions, there would be several hundred milliseconds during which their conscious and subconscious mind came to terms with what would happen, before they reacted. In this case, there was no such delay. When I saw the next muzzle flash, I could tell that he was aiming through Iles.

Unfortunate. I fired back.

Poiter’s bullet pierced the chest of his wife, missing me by several centimeters, then burying itself in the wall behind me. My shot, in contrast, hit the target straight in the shoulder. Two and a half seconds later, I felt Iles slide down onto the floor. Her husband soon followed with a loud plop.

Attackers down. I checked the woman’s vitals. One’s in critical condition. Punctured lung and internal bleeding. The other’s heavily wounded, but should be stable for the time being. Send med bots on my current location. I’ll head out to scout the area.

If I were to leave, there was a sixty-nine percent chance that Iles would be dead within minutes. Not doing so, though, could potentially put more people at risk. This was why, like every ship, I hated fighting people. Even with all the justification in the universe, the pain didn’t go away.

Now that the danger was gone, I took a quick look at the weapon I was holding. Parts of it had been modified to suppress the emission of sound when firing. Only the trigger and firing mode switch remained capable of producing sound. A hasty job, but extremely effective.

“The med bots will be here soon,” I bent down over Iles. “You’ll be fine.” There was a thirty-one percent chance, at least.

Time to see how things are outside.

I tightened my fingers around the rifle’s grip, then after checking the amount of ammo left, manually activated the door to open.

The moment it did, the sound of gunfire and explosions hit my ears, making me pull back. From where I stood, I could see several platoons of fully armed grunts exchange fire with a number of unknown targets. Everything looked like one of the ground missions I observed as a ship, only these weren’t soldiers fighting Cassandrians on some frontier planet. By all accounts, these were humans fighting humans in the very heart of Gregorius.

Gregorius, what’s the status? I asked.

Static.

Engage the mutiny protocols! I knew I didn’t have the authority to give such an order, but I could hope that I might be heard by someone who did. Meanwhile in the distance, under the sounds of battle, the faint echo of a chant emerged, growing louder and louder with every second.

“Kill the fracture! Kill the fracture! Kill the fracture! Kill the fracture!”