Hello Sev,

My basic training is done. Definitely not what I expected, but I managed to pull through. A lot of the kids didn’t. Turns out I was sent to an advanced training facility. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?

I’ve been assigned to a research ship. He’s a bit uptight, but seems pleasant. I can’t say his name or class for security reasons, and he gets a bit touchy about his age, so in a way he reminds me of you. I think we’ll get along fine. The crew also seem nice, even if I’ve only seen them a few times.

Since I didn’t make the top of the list I was sent here with two other cadets. I’ve no idea what I’ll be doing, but I expect they’ll think of something. Most likely writing reports for the duration of my stay.

How have you been? I still haven’t received any of your messages—I’m hoping you bothered to send some—so don’t expect any answers for a month. The ship’s XO told us we won't be able to receive correspondence for a while. The only way I managed to send this letter was thanks to the Good News Provision (it’s amazing the things one would read when boredom strikes). The XO wasn’t very happy, but since I’m a human now he let me send a message back home before the start of the mission.

Is the android still in one piece? I hope you two haven’t driven each other insane, not after all the trouble you went through in order to get him. If you haven’t, remind him to monitor your health. Despite your stubbornness, you’re not as young as you used to be. And please talk more to your family. It doesn’t have to be every day, but once a week would be nice.

There’s so much more I want to tell you, but I know the message will be thoroughly analyzed and censored, so I prefer to tell you when I’m allowed to send proper mails. I promise to write before that, of course, just not send them out. Maybe it’ll be better this way—you’ll have a stack of things to read once the messages arrive.

Take care, and remember to stay at home during the cold season.

Elcy

I put my datapad away and stared at the ceiling. It had been a week since I’d sent the message—the very last thing I’d done before boarding the Prometheus Dawn. He wasn’t considered a new ship, even if he was only half my age. For some reason, that was a subject he was touchy on. I knew that all science ships had their peculiarities, but I didn’t expect such a degree of resentment. The first time we had a chat, he refused to talk to me until I got proper authorization. Things had gone downhill ever since.

The lights lit up. Emergency messages covered the walls summoning me to the bridge. I tried to log in to the communication system, but the subroutine rejected my attempt. So much for asking Prometheus what’s going on.

“Cadet Elcy acknowledging order,” I said. I knew internal subroutines would convey my response to my superior officers. When I was a ship there would be times at which I would gather hundreds of reports and responses per hour. There was no doubt that Prometheus was doing the same. “ETA four minutes.” Technically, it was two, but I preferred to give myself a two minute buffer for future reference.

I jumped out of bed and went for my new uniform—a cyan-grey thing, identifying me as a science cadet—then combed my hair into order. One of the disadvantages of being human were the attention to appearance. Regulations were absurdly strict, and both the ship and the crew saw to it that everyone kept them.

“Here goes,” I said to the sandals on my nightstand. “Wish me luck.”

The moment my door opened I saw cadet Elec Liao standing in the corridor. He had been on the ship four months when I boarded, which gave him seniority. It also made him slightly arrogant.

“Hey,” I said, stepping into the corridor.

“Morning.” He nodded in response. If he was aware of me being a ship, he didn’t show it. We’d barely known each other for a week, but so far the only things on his mind were how to keep out of trouble and lose less muscle mass. Like everyone coming from a high gravity planet, Elec was terrified of the effects space had on his body. Every evening he’d spend two hours in the ship’s gym. “Bad night?”

“I don’t sleep.” I added enough of a smile to pass it as a joke. “Is this a drill?”

“Nope.” He glanced at the door next to mine. Cadet Shiala Dev—our third member—hadn’t shown up yet. “Mission debrief. Happens every few weeks. You’ll get used to it.” I saw him adjust his gravity bracelets. Apparently gym exercises weren’t enough.

“Anything you can talk about?”

“Depends. Why are you so curious? It doesn’t matter if you know or not.”

That was an interesting philosophy. Taking a step back, I looked Elec in the eye. He was taller than me—which, to my regret, wasn’t unusual—blond and dark skinned. I didn’t have access to his personnel file, but was convinced he belonged to a military family. Most heavy gravity fleeters did. During my active days, every major colony was required to send a group of trainees. High gravity worlders weren’t used to space, but did their part. After a war that lasted three generations, chance became tradition and tradition became law. I wouldn’t be surprised if cadet Elec’s family home had its walls covered in portraits of fleet personnel.

“You’re right, but I’m still curious.” I straightened up in an attempt to gain half an inch of height. “If we’ll be told anyway, why the wait?”

“That’s for Prometheus to decide.” Elec crossed his arms, as he kept glaring at Shaila’s door.

“I thought it was the captain’s call.” This was surprising. “Or the XO’s.”

“Not on a science ship.” For the first time I saw Elec smirk. “Things are different here.”

Different. I had used that phrase to describe things a while back. And just like Prometheus Dawn, I never considered sharing details with humans.

* * *

“Crew informed and on standby,” I said, double checking all responses. All of them had gone through this before so knew the procedure. “Drop troops, though...” I displayed the images from my internal sensors. Several thousand ground troops were running along my lower decks like drones without software.

“Don’t get cynical, Elcy,” my captain grumbled. “We need them to win this war.”

“I know. ‘You can’t get planets with ships alone.’” I hated that phrase. Whoever had coined it probably never saw a ship in his life. “The Augie has sent a communication that she’s ready and waiting. Drop troops still haven’t given me an adequate ETA.”

It was tragic. Out of thirty platoons on board, over a quarter hadn’t bothered to respond. If it were up to me, their commanding officers would be stripped of rank. My crew didn’t seem to be bothered.

“Next time I’ll send the alarm ten minutes early,” I grumbled. “Maybe then there’ll be a chance that we start on time.”

“Elcy, check long range, please,” Martia G’nob, our weapons officer, said.

“No change.” I had my subroutines do an additional area sweep. “No heat, mass, or displacement. We’re safe... as long as the drop troops manage to deploy in your lifetime.”

Several officers laughed. My attitude towards land troops was no secret. Given a choice, I would have preferred to have my decks removed and specialize in fleet combat only. Having to track everyone inside me was a huge waste of resources. I knew Marcus felt the same, even if he never suggested it in public. For the moment, though, both of us were stuck babysitting troops whenever command ordered it.

“Tell the Aurora Glow that we’ll be ready in five,” captain Gibraltar said. “And put weapon systems on standby.”

“Want me to go to yellow alert?” I put up a software firewall and increased the command priority of all my weapon routines. Long range scanners weren’t picking up any anomalies or forming wormholes.

“Only if something appears.” The captain stretched in his seat. “We’re just here to drop the troops.”

“I can’t wait for that to happen.” I checked their status. Eighty-nine percent of the ground troop officers had gotten their people in order. The whole thing was pathetically slow. Twenty-eight gigatons of destructive power and I had to play the role of a transport ship.

“Light Seeker, why wasn’t I given a heads up?” someone in the lower decks shouted. Internal sensors identified him as colonel Pretoria Estrella, commander of the drop force. Judging by his expression I could tell he was pissed. “Patch me to Gibraltar.”

In your dreams. There always was someone—an officer, passenger, sometimes even a private—asking for a direct line to the captain. My first captain enjoyed having a go at them. I didn’t.

“The captain is busy coordinating the operation,” I replied in the colonel’s quarters. “And since things are proceeding according to schedule there was no need for—“

“Get him on the line right now,” the colonel interrupted.

“No.” My response took him aback. Seems he wasn’t used to dealing with a battleship. I took the moment of hesitation to access his personnel file. According to his profile, he was second generation with thirty-seven years in the service. Not overly decorated, but competent enough to lead large scale operations. His psyche evaluation was sealed, suggesting there were issues, yet his track record was so far flawless. “I won’t disturb my captain mid operation just so you can have a shouting contest.”

“Listen to me, Light Seeker.” The colonel regained his composure remarkably fast. In other circumstances I’d almost be impressed. “This is ground’s operation. As such, all command decisions must go through me first. You and your captain will be long gone before the fighting starts, so don’t give me that mid-operation shit!”

“It still doesn’t change the fact.” Two can play at that game. “When the Augie and I were called from the front line to play transporters for your troops, neither of us grumbled about it.” At least not openly. “That’s part of the job. However, I won’t waste processing power to babysit your soldiers. If you want that, next time request a medical ship. Until then, I decide how to inform the crew.”

“That’s not your call!” the colonel raised his voice. “Only the captain or the liaison officer can make such decisions.”

“Elsewhere, maybe. I’m a battleship. Things are different here.”

“Things okay, Elcy?” my captain asked from the bridge. “Will ground meet our ETA?”

“Seems so.” The colonel had gone on a tirade about rank and operational integrity. With the drop starting in two minutes, I knew it wouldn’t be a long talk. “Nothing on scanners and Augie is waiting. Sixty percent of shuttles boarded.”

“Good enough.” My captain stood up, a strange habit he had when assuming command. “Patch me to command, Augie, and all ground officers on board. Full visual. Let’s get this thing running.”

* * *

“What’s this about?” Shiala whispered as we made our way to the bridge. A week hadn’t been enough for him to get accustomed to ship time. “You think we’ll see some action?”

“This isn’t a battleship, Shiala,” Elec sighed with the annoyance of a parent dragging a toddler through a supermarket. “The captain will just say a few words and that’s it.”

“Why in the middle of the night? Why in person?”

“Captain’s prerogative. Straighten your collar. The XO hates messiness.”

Unlike normal ships, Prometheus’ bridge was located on the bottom deck, along with the research labs. Back in my active days no one would be allowed such a deviation, even science ships. Today, all new classes had the ability to transform their deck structure to anything they wanted. In her only message, Alicia had told me that her ship—name redacted—had opted for a vertical deck structure. Even with the advancements in artificial gravity I failed to see the actual benefit. Then again, the older generations found many of my own modifications useless.

“One thing to remember—“ Elec paused in front of the bridge doors “—no questions until offered. The captain and Prometheus hate wasting time.”

Don’t we all? I nodded and followed him in. I’d been twice on the bridge so far: upon reporting for duty, and when I asked permission to communicate to Prometheus directly. This time, the entire officer staff had gathered, including the scientist chiefs. And, of course, they had lowered the temperature settings to freezing.

“Reporting for briefing, sir.” Elec saluted once all of us werr inside. I stood to attention.

“At ease, cadets.” Captain Khal waved a hand from his chair. Like a true scientist he was in light blue lab clothes, his rank denoted by a band on symbols on his shoulders. “Effective immediately we’ll be engaging in an exploration and reconnaissance mission. You have been given the corresponding access to Prometheus’ database, so I advise you to familiarize yourselves with the specs. Naturally, the mission is considered top secret ship-only, so all external correspondence will be blocked.”

Space exploration. That would definitely explain the severe training regiment. In military terms, there was no difference between war and charting new star clusters. In both cases, there was no telling how much pressure the ship and its occupants would face. According to the history files, the war against the Cassandrians was a result of exploration: an abundant and technologically advanced race deciding to extend its dominion in the galaxy, and crashing in its equal as a result. I glanced at my fellow cadets. Shiala was smiling so hard he was beaming like a supernova.

“Prometheus.” The captain leaned back.

“As cadets your involvement and information access will be limited,” the ship took over. His accent and speech patterns were remarkably similar. “Cadet Liao will be assigned to navigation as part of his final training. The rest will assist with day to day activities depending on the situation. Performance will, naturally, be scored and put in your file.”

In other words, Prometheus didn’t want to have us messing up things. I could tell the rest of the crew felt the same way.

“Now, if there aren’t further questions, you’re to prepare for a jump.” Prometheus couldn’t wait to get rid of us. “Good day, and—“

“Might need to do better than that, Prometheus.” Commander Shane suddenly spoke.

Silence covered the bridge. I half expected Prometheus to talk back. He was a ship, but he also was the captain’s counterpart. I know I would have if someone had questioned my authority in such a fashion. I looked around. The cadets had become tense, but not the crew. It almost seemed they were expecting such an exchange.

“Very well, XO,” Prometheus said after a while. “The mission’s name is Eden and it involves probing and cataloging planets suitable for human colonies. Further information will become available as appropriate.”

Pre-colony exploration. I’d only heard stories about that. A battleship I knew during the war told me she had acted as an escort mission of a phase-one charter. After the start of the war, military ships took the lead, in case the enemy had similar appetites. They would plot the coordinates and do a series of orbital readings, confirming the data of the of automated probes and deep space telescopes. When the data came in and the system was considered safe and promising, a science vessel would be sent to determine conditions on the planet itself. When I was active an average of two hundred and seventy missions were undertaken every year, out of which seven percent resulted in the discovery of a viable cost effective candidate.

Sev, I have a feeling I’ll have a lot to write about before my return to Virgo station.