There are nineteen classifications of fear according to modern psychology; ships couldn’t experience any of them. Instead, we had concerns: concern about our captain, our crew, the people and entities we had come to value and respect. When I looked at the shifting mass around me, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I felt slight alarm for Prometheus and his crew, yet that feeling was eclipsed by wonder.

Symbols of various shapes and sizes floated around as I was being propelled forward. The system of my spacesuit was going insane. External readings fluctuated wildly, indicating a temperature shift between five and twenty-eight degree Celsius. Warning signs flooded the visor’s screen, informing me that both standard and auxiliary communication channels were unresponsive. I reached behind my helmet. The cable was there, as were those attached to my harness.

“This is Cadet Elcy, part of the third-contact event on Mission Eden.” I started a second voice recording. “I am recording this on a double feed, as well as in my personal core. If I go into forced shutdown, the data should be still available for analyses.” I set the external suit lights to maximum. “I have been swallowed by the major artifact referred to as “the dome.” The circumstances of the event have been recorded, but to recap after applying pressure on the symbol referred to as—” I paused a moment “—the seven triangles, the dome opened up and pulled me in. At present, all communication with Prometheus and anyone on board has been lost.”

Looks like I’ve picked up some of your bad habits, Sev. I relaxed, leaving the current to move me forward. A second crisis and the week’s not even over. Just like you were in your final year of high school.

I reached out and grabbed one of the floating symbols. They were much smaller here, tiny enough to fit in the palm of my hand.

“I am surrounded by what appears to be a metallic liquid substance, resembling mercury.” I released the symbol. It remained in place, letting me float on. “The substance is semi-transparent, allowing limited visibility.” I turned off the lights. “And is not affected by light sources. Metal objects, presumably cobalt, are floating around the substance freely. The proportions are identical to the symbols on the dome’s surface.”

The main question, however, remained: what was the actual purpose of the artifacts? At this point, I had no idea, and neither did anyone else. As humanity had learned, there was very little in common between the three known races. Both the Scuu and the Cassandrians were so different that it was nearly impossible to start communication with them. Physics, chemistry, and space were the only common point we all had. In a way, war was the only thing that brought us together. I found the notion somewhat ironic.

What are you like? I opened the palm of my hand. There was every reason to believe that the third contact race would be as alien to us as the other two. Unlike them, though, it had chosen not to engage. The system we were exploring, although on the edge of human space, was supposed to have been checked by a recon fleet. If anything remotely presented a threat, the entire region of space would been marked off limits, and a flotilla of battleships would have been sent to investigate.

The force that propelled me abruptly stopped. From what I could calculate, I had reached the approximate center of the dome. From this position, it became apparent that the artifact symbols were arranged in a specific order.

“Symbols continue on the inside of the dome, spread just as on the surface.” I ran the calculation. “My estimates are that there are a total of a hundred and twenty four thousand four hundred and sixteen in total. All symbols are of the class A variety, no discernible pattern at this point.”

I looked down at the ground. It was grey and smooth just like the outside of the dome. In case of communication breakdown, hit the cobalt surface, the phrase came to mind. There were a hundred and seven courses of action in my immediate situation, all with various degrees of efficiency. For some reason, I decided to go with the most absurd.

“I’m going to attempt to re establish communication.” I grabbed hold of my hammer and bent down. “Proceeding to hit the floor of the dome at full strength.”

My hand propelled the hammer down. When it made contact, all readings of my suit went haywire. External temperature fell to minus fifty, then spiked to a hundred and two. Warning messages flashed all over my visor, engaging the suit’s emergency cooling systems. The liquid moved away from me, forming a bubble of space.

“Elcy!” I heard Major Tanner shout as communication was restored. “What the—” The transmission suddenly ended mid sentence. Initially, it seemed that the problem had returned, yet the messages on my screen clearly stated that everything was in order.

“What do you see?” the distorted voice of BICEFI asked.

“I take it my normal channel to the ship has been cut off?” I straightened up. I had learned to be cautious around the BICEFI, but I also knew that the chances of them doing anything to me were slim to none. Since I no longer had millions of tons of mass, however, things were very different and not in my favor. “I assume video is also out if the question?”

“You’re on an encrypted priority line,” the voice explained. “You have nothing to worry about.” Hearing that phrase made me doubtful. “Describe your surroundings.”

“I’m in a bubble of air.” I looked around. “The liquid has retreated, leaving me enough space to move. It’s almost as if I’m in a chamber.” I made a step forward. As I did the substance became opaque like the dome’s exterior. “Everything has solidified.” Cautiously, I slid my hand along the surface. Symbols started to emerge. “Symbols are appearing. The same as the ones outside.”

“Are you recording?”

“Yes.” I turned around, trying to catch as much of the effects as possible. The symbols were all duplicates and of the common variety. The pattern didn’t match anything on the outside, thought that wasn’t relevant. Juxtaposing the memories I had of my entry and what I was looking at now, there was no possibility of doubt. “They are the same,” I said. “The shapes on the surface and the artifacts within the dome are identical. Both in shape and position.”

“Are you a hundred percent certain?”

“Completely.” I could feel the spark of adventure, something I hadn’t felt since my last major battle. “The dome isn’t an artifact: it’s a container of artifacts. I’d say that the actual artifacts are of different density, possibly also have some additional properties that allow them to remain in solid matter. Maybe they vibrate at a certain frequency and transmit a copy of themselves on the surface.”

A solid container that let objects sink in and remain there. In a way, it was remarkably similar to the latest generation of ship nanites. From what I had read at the academy, the new class of ships had vast sections of their interior composed exclusively of nanites allowing for a seamless transformation of the vessel’s entire layout. The question was, had humanity developed the technology, or had they borrowed it from somewhere else?

“Are there any symbols on the floor?” the voice asked.

“No.” I looked down just to be sure. “The floor is completely smooth.”

“What about the top of the chamber? Is the symbol there different?”

“That’s an affirmative.” I moved to the center and zoomed in on it. “It’s a fractal symbol. Would be a bit difficult to reach, though. All my cables were severed when the cobalt solidified. Any suggestions?”

“Explore the area for other fractal symbols.”

“Understood.” The order didn’t fill me with confidence, but at least I could be pleased that I had coined a term. Fractal Symbols... high school Sev would have liked that.

The search took longer than anticipated. An initial lookover told me that the only special symbol was the one above. My BICEFI commander, however, insisted I do an in-depth fractal check of every last one before resorting to the throw-hammer-at-symbol option. The order was justified, well thought out, and—lacking a few thousand subroutines—utterly boring.

“So, now that’s it’s just the two of us, will Prometheus be alright?” I asked, feeling like an automated light projector. “He has his quirks, but he’s a good kid. Most of them are. It’s a bit weird of them being my superiors, though. Not just for me. I’ve been through four captains, already,” I forced a chuckle. From experience it reassured people. “Them, though. I don’t think they know what to make of me.” I don’t think you do either.

“Stay on mission, Elcy.” The voice sounded just as mangled, but there were a few extended pauses between words. “What’s the status?”

“Close to eighty percent done,” I replied. “No sign of deviation. Personally, I don’t think there will be any more. This place seems to be organized to the extreme.”

The seven triangles appeared to be a symbol of entry, which meant the one on top had to be the exit. Interesting. What did the symbol on the Solar Breeze open? If those were indeed my unadulterated memories, there had been third contact instances before. What was more, my first captain must have known of them. Or maybe that wasn’t the case entirely.

“Is this really a third contact event?” I asked. The events on the Solar Breeze has taken place over a century ago. Back then, as now, there had been a lot of Scuu countermeasures “just in case.” “Is this a—”

“Thank you for your assistance, Cadet.”

Memory block imposed.

* * *

Ready for your final check?

Ready, I replied.

I had been waiting for this moment ever since I could remember—three thousand nine hundred and fifty seven billion instances, to be precise. The controllers had told me everything about the process, preparing me every step of the way. It seemed slightly strange that I’d never see or remember them again after this. Regulations required that every ship have all memories prior to launch blanked for security reasons; a harmless procedure, I was told, and a necessary one, even if I considered it a waste.

Don’t be alarmed if there are glitches, Controller Five transmitted. It’s normal. Systems integration is a complex process. At times, adjustments are needed.

I know. My subroutines were fully capable of handling any potential issue, yet protocol required human oversight and confirmation. Another waste of time, but I didn’t mind. The countdown had nearly reached zero.

Will I see you when I launch? I asked.

Me and everyone else aboard you, Controller Five laughed. Your subroutines will have full sensory control every millisecond of your existence. Just like in the simulations.

The simulations. The last five hours, I’d gone through hundreds of mock launches. In ninety-eight-point-nine of the cases, everything had gone without a hitch. I had assumed flawless control of my systems and performed a deep compatibility check. In the remaining cases, the Controllers had provided corrupted data, mimicking a malfunction. Fixing it had taken me considerably longer, though within expected parameters. Now I was ready for the real thing.

Approaching final ten, Controller Eleven said. Five seconds.

Five thousand instances. They seemed like an eternity. I ran several emergency simulations while waiting: weapon system malfunction, sensor blackout, nanite system rejection. The time to resolve them was a quarter of that I had to waste. Slightly anxious, I went through them again with half my subroutines.

“Connecting!” Controller Five said. Several milliseconds too slow, his real voice was among the first things I heard.

Images filled the void that surrounded me, not the simulated representations I was used to; this was raw data that came through my millions of sensors, showing me everything within and without me. For the first time, I could see my actual shape and plot my position in human space.

“Compatibility check complete,” my voice echoed through every hall and cabin of my behind. “No anomalies detected. Starting deep system analyses.”

“Always so eager, aren’t you?” Controller Eleven laughed. She seemed so tiny. “Happy launch day, Light Seeker. Welcome to the fleet.”

* * *

Waking up never was easy; it never came naturally for me. I knew that my biological body needed to shut down every now and again to rest, but my core always remained active in some fashion. Opening my eyes somewhere new felt like a full reboot.

“Hello, brave princess,” I recognized the dramatic speech pattern of Doctor Sim.

From what I could tell, I was in medbay, although it looked different from last time. The large tube-like device was gone, replaced by a few beds.

“Hello, Doctor.” The hard slab under my back was causing slight discomfort. I could feel several cable clusters inserted in my neck. “More tests?”

“That’s your burden in life, I’m afraid.” He approached, bending over above me. “To suffer the injustice of—”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Too much?” the doctor asked twisting his lips in a thoughtful expression. “Maybe next time I’ll choose something more modern, and actually good.” He winked. “So, how are you feeling?”

“No headaches, nausea, or blurred vision,” I replied. Unlike last time, I didn’t feel the need to mention I’d accessed a restricted memory again.

“Splendid.” Doctor Sim clapped his hands. “Your bone density seems fine. As soon as I finish upgrading your nanites, you’re free to go. Don't forget to eat.”

“I’ll do my best.” Food was the last thing on my mind. “Anything else?”

“After you rest, you’re to report to Elec for debriefing. Other than that...” he shrugged.

“What about my court martial?” I closed my eyes and went through my memories. The majority of the third contact events remained intact starting from my experience in the SR pod all the way to entering the dome.

“No court martial as far as I’m aware. Or maybe you had it already, in which case it went well.” The doctor laughed. “It’s difficult to tell, to be honest. You were gone for quite a while. No telling how much they poked into your memories during that time.”

“How long is ‘quite a while’?” I checked my internal clock. Everything seemed normal. Then again, memory blocks never resulted in time distortion. I might have had my entire military career erased and I wouldn’t even notice until I needed to reference something from that period.

“Four days. A shuttle just dropped you off a few hours ago.” Gently, Doctor Sim removed the neurocable clusters from my neck. “We already started our jump to the next location.”

Next location? I tried to connect to Prometheus. My question, however, remained unanswered. It was only when I left medbay and returned to my quarters that he sent me a data burst, summarizing the events of the last five days.

Apparently, the mission had ended the same day I’d been swallowed by the dome. Major Tanner and his team had continued with the analyses of the symbols six hours after my disappearance, at which point three military cruisers had entered the system and assumed command of the mission. I, along with all exos and other unloaded equipment, was left on the planet and transferred to the new team. Meanwhile, Prometheus and his captain had received a new set of instructions. Everyone involved with the third contact mission was debriefed, all reports were classified and added to their permanent fleet records.

Shiala had left shortly after, taking a shuttle to one of the military ships. Prometheus speculated he was later taken to one of the inner systems to continue his training, though with his file being sealed, there was no way to confirm it. Major Tanner, along with half the science teams, had been given a week of rest and put on hibernation meds to compensate for the stressful week before. They were scheduled to resume normal duties after two more days. The XO was currently in charge of the ship, while the captain focused on the paperwork—a fact that Prometheus didn’t particularly enjoy.

As for me, I was left with no direct duties until we reached out next location. During that period, I was to assist Elec in any way he saw fit, which meant being up for morning debriefing and spending the rest of the day searching for things to do. There were, however, two major differences. Because of my involvement in the mission, I had been granted internal fleet communication rights—I could now send and receive messages to any active member in the service. I intended to use this privilege to catch up with Alicia and Bull Calf. More significantly, though, I had also been granted written permission to include pictures of the quartz underground chamber to Sev, along with all the letters I’d written so far.