Flying to an unspecified destination was nothing new. I had often done that, at times even having my memory blocked upon arrival to preserve mission confidentiality. The difference was that this time, no one cared. Days after our reassignment, most of the crew remained in their labs and quarters, making Prometheus feel like a ghost ship. All my attempts to get in touch with Major Tanner had been unsuccessful, let alone any other officer. Ally had shut herself in her lab keeping busy with symbol analyses—I still had no idea how legal her activities were, even if she didn’t keep it a secret from anyone—and Prometheus was more distant than ever.

I took another bite of my gelatinous ration. It tasted mildly sweet.

“Can you display an outside image?” I asked.

“There’s nothing to see,” the ship’s voice echoed in the room.

“I know. I just miss seeing it.”

It was a weird statement to make, but one any ship would understand. A few seconds later the walls of my quarters disappeared, transformed into a veil of endless black. Most people would consider it hostile, even terrifying, but for someone born in space, it was the opposite.

“My first captain would ask me to do this a lot,” I began. “In his last years, that was one of the only things that helped me forget it all. He used to call it the forgotten treasure. Before I became human, I couldn’t understand why.”

“I’ve given you room permissions,” Prometheus said. “Next time change the wall visuals on your own!”

“Thanks.” I smiled. “It’s much appreciated.”

I never thought I’d become as sentimental as you, Captain. Then again, at the time I never expected you would, either.

* * *

“All reports are gathered and checked,” I said as I merged two thousand and seventy-three files in a single corpus. “Once I get yours, I’ll send it to command.”

It had been two days since our latest military operation. In terms of scale, this was a minuscule event, the paperwork, however, remained the same. That was one of the annoyances of the calm between missions: everyone suddenly became obsessed with gathering, composing, and sending reports. As a ship, I was used to streaming bursts of data every minute for analyses. Watching people struggle at the hands of bureaucratic demands—that was a different matter.

“I’ll get to it later,” Captain Augustus said from his desk. “Set my walls to space.”

“Again?” I sighed. He had been asking for that a lot lately. I obeyed; there was no reason for me not to, yet I had to admit I was feeling slight concern. “Do you want me to engage full privacy settings?”

“No.” The captain took a bottle of organic bourbon from the drawer and put it on his desk. “Not tonight.”

“Is anything the matter?” I reviewed the events of the last battle. Seventeen ships had been lost—a small number, everything considered. As far as I could tell, none of the killed officers or crew members were particularly close to Augustus. A few were veterans like himself, but there was no other relations I could find.

“Is anything the matter?” The captain repeated the question, placing two glasses on the desk and filled them halfway. “That’s the big question. For a while, I thought I knew the answer.” He put the bottle to the side. “And now you’re probably wondering what I’m talking about.”

“The question had been considered.” I chose a political answer. Since I’d known him, Augustus had made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate disobedience or disrespect. That hadn’t stopped me to discuss the matter with the ship’s medical officer.

“How long have we flown together, Elcy?” The captain took a sip of his drink. “Feels like half an eternity.”

“Longer than that from my point of view.” A minor scuffle had broken out in the lower mass hall. Soldiers tended to use the time between missions to drink and unwind. As a result, tempers flared. I had security subroutines send a few bots to resolve the situation. “Other than my testing period, you are the only captain I’ve known.”

“Operation Tiger Fang will be starting in a few months,” he suddenly changed the subject. “Admiral HQ is keeping it need-to-know, but they’ll announce it in a few weeks.”

I didn’t respond. There wasn’t an entity on the Cassandrian front that didn’t know about it—the first major human offensive aimed at pushing back the enemy into their own territory. As far as I was aware, the idea had been under discussion for half a decade, each year seeing renewed pledges and commitment, with little results. Being a battleship, I knew that the matter was by no means simple: as our numbers and technology increased, so did the enemy’s. Every month there were Cassandrian incursions, surprise attacks, and unforeseen losses on the fleet’s part, requiring immediate reaction. The only reason there was even talk of operation Tiger Fang over the last few years was because things on the Scuu front had simmered down to a standstill.

“I won’t be part of it,” Augustus added, finishing his drink.

“Captain?” I checked my communication logs. There were no transmissions from command or HQ since the end of the battle. “Is it a political decision? With our record, I don’t see why—”

“Oh, it’s very political,” the man said, pouring himself another glass. I could feel the bitterness In his words. “They are retiring me to the admiralty. I’m being considered too old and valuable to ‘play toy soldier’ anymore. I knew the moment they started searching for my successor.”

Successor? The word sounded out of place. After everything we’d been through, I had started to doubt that I’d ever have another captain. With the percentage of ships of my class that had been destroyed, I expected I’d share a similar fate, engaged in one of Augustus’ insane operations. The notion that anyone could replace him felt unnatural.

A second fight broke out, forcing me to send a new wave of security bots. In addition, I gave a warning that I’d stop alcohol rations if there were more instances. From past experience, it would have little effect, though it would make them somewhat mindful of the consequences.

“Still, it is not for us to challenge orders,” the captain said, staring into the void I was projecting on the wall.

“No, sir. We just ignore them.”

“Heh, no longer the rookie, eh?” He cracked a chuckle. “It’ll be a while before they officially replace me, but let me give you three pieces of advice.” He filled his glass once more. “Never let anyone take away your goals, never let them retire you—” He gulped down his drink, then slammed the glass on the desk. “—and always remain graceful when they do.”

* * *

Always remain graceful when they do... That had been the single time I had seen Captain Augustus be graceful. As the missions decreased in importance, so did his interest. He’d remain more in his quarters, engaged in whatever top secret things the admiralty wanted of him.

“Are you upset you weren’t allowed to do the research?” I asked from my bed.

“It would have been easier if I had any memory of what I’m to be upset about.” The displeasure in his voice was prominent, bordering sarcasm. “But yes, I think an actual science ship should have been involved in a third contact event and not be rushed away each time BICEFI ships appear.”

“This isn’t the first time they’ve done this to you?”

There was a long moment of silence.

“No,” Prometheus said at last.

The conversation ended here. I knew that no matter what I said, he wouldn’t change his mind. I had felt the same way when I had been transferred to patrol duty. His entire existence revolved around him aiding others, researching and exploring what they couldn’t. He was more than a container that moved scientists through space; he was a scientist with a multitude of cores and countless tools at his disposal.

“I almost lost half my captains.” I dared break the silence. “Each time, I lost part of myself as well. First demoted, then retired.” I counted two hundred milliseconds, in case he wanted to say something. “I don’t know how much of my file you’ve seen, but I’ve gone down the sinusoidal. Do you want me to describe the symbols?”

“The captain will show me when it’s appropriate.”

“I’m sure.” I put the ration wrapper on the nightstand, next to my sandals. “Either way, thank you. You handled the mission quite well down there.”

A series of messages flashed on my datapad. I reached for the device and held it above my head. The first message was a confirmation that Sev had received all my letters and had replied. That was a relief, even I I wouldn’t be able to read his responses for some time. Fleet protocol was very precise when it came to such matters. I could, in theory, file a request to the captain or XO, though with everything else happening, the likelihood of it getting approved was next to none. Regardless, I send a message to both.

The second message was from Alicia, who seemed thrilled to hear from me. By the look of it, she was on a classified mission of her own, but promised she’d try to get permission to have a video link with me in the coming days so we could catch up. Apparently, she had also remained in contact with a few of the others of our old group, but deliberately wanted to “keep the suspense” until we got to talk.

So typical of you. I shook my head. Alicia also mentioned that the ship she was on was very different than what she had imagined, making a point to say that I’d probably like her. From what I could gather, the entire crew was new, so the ship was naturally much more friendly than normal. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were friends with every single member of the crew; I remember that at that age, I had tried to be.

The next seven messages were conflicting instructions from Elec, letting me know that I would and would not be needed tomorrow. He still requested my presence during the morning briefing, yet his attempts to place me in any team had proven unsuccessful. I could already see him taking me to the mess hall again for another talk.

Finally, at the very end of the list, was a blank message with a twenty-four digit identifier tag. There was no text or attachment, just a temporary communication link set to be active for the next six hours. The only thing I could tell was that the link had passed fleet comm-protocols and was approved for use.

“Prometheus?” I ran a message query, only to see the standard fleet metadata. “I have a link from an unspecified source. Do you have any additional info?”

Silence. Obviously, I was going to have to find out on my own. This reminded me so much of something Sev would do. In the last decade, each time he wanted to give me a present he’d act disinterested and absentminded, deliberately ignoring any questions I had.

“You really should meet Sev one day.” I tapped on the link.

The screen flickered, as a the datapad connected to my communication channel.

Hey there, Cadet, a voice said directly in my core. It didn’t belong to Prometheus. What have you been up to? Still a loner?

“Buc?” The communication came as a surprise. I had taken advantage of my new privileges to send Bull Calf a message, but I never expected him to be in touch with me so soon, and definitely not in such fashion. “Aren’t you supposed to be dragging candidates from planet to planet?”

Planet to station, but yes, he laughed. Numbers are on the rise, so I’m keeping myself busy. As are you. I hear you’re making a name for yourself.

“Hey, I’m just a loner with some battle experience.” I knew that Prometheus was monitoring our communication. Back when I was active, I would do it all the time, always ready to stop it at a millisecond’s notice. “Besides, everyone will be retired by the time it’s declassified.”

Modest as a battleship. You’re famous, you know. First ship candidate to complete the academy training. The commandant is making a huge deal about it. He’s only waiting for you to complete your training so he can plaster your face all over the station.

“He’ll have to wait a while.” It took anywhere from one to three years for a cadet to become an ensign. At the moment, I had just started my practical training, and as much as wanted to, I couldn’t say that I was guaranteed success. The amount of dropouts fluctuated every year, but most chose to quit on their own accord. In my case, though... there was every indication I had gone through open court martial, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

You also have a big hello from my captain, Bull Calf went on. He’d like to tell you himself, but regulations and all.

“Tell him thanks. His advice helped a lot.” Or at least it helped get me into the proper mindset. “You two remaining together after the next shift?”

Doubtful. He’s looking at retirement, so I’ll probably get someone else to share war stories with. Command usually sends people from the front.

Sounded familiar. They did the same to ships too.

“What about you?” I asked the uncomfortable question. “Considering retirement?”

Not sure it’s an option, but even if it were, probably not. Unlike me, he seemed extremely calm about it. Part of me envied him. If I could have been like that when I was his age, a lot of things would have been different. Hauling candidates is fine. I have a few standing offers for the private sector. Thirty years of calm does wonders for the tourist industry. The shipyards can’t keep up with demand.

Thirty years of calm. Living with Sev and his family, I could tell it was a nice thing. Humanity had expanded further than ever before, developing new technologies in virtually every sphere of life. Even the two battlefronts were merely a reminder of the conflicts going on. Every decade, new ships joined the ranks, keeping both Cassandians and Scuu at bay. However, calm made me feel uneasy. Like my first captain liked to say, “Calm is chaos taking a nap”.

“Buc, can I ask you a favor?” I ventured.

“Almost always.” He knew it would be borderline illegal, yet it wasn’t his nature to say no outright.

“Can you find any retired battleships? Mostly from the Scuu front, but any would do. It would be nice to chat with someone about the old days.”

Tired of spending time with us kids? I could feel the amusement in his words. I’ll see what I can do with my access. If anything is on the registry, I’ll send you a list. My captain says he’ll lend a hand as well.

“Thanks. Be sure not to get in trouble.” I paused for a moment. “Both of you.”

The most I could hope for is getting vomit all over my corridors, Bull Calf laughed again. You take care, Elcy. Hope to catch you before your next tour.

The transmission stopped abruptly, ending the conversation. Thanks, Buc. He was the first friend I’d made since joining. Three more months and I would have a chance to see him again. I stood up and walked to the wall. The projection of darkness continued to infinity.

“Private mode,” I said. As a cadet aboard a ship, I was required to have my location and vitals monitored at all times. As a human however, I had the right to block Prometheus’ visual access, unless there was an emergency. “Image transfer.” I linked with the room’s settings.

The void disappeared, replaced by row upon row of symbols—all four thousand and fifty-one of them, arranged by type and frequency of use. I had no idea of their nature or significance, or why the BICEFI had let me remember them. What I did know was that having them on the wall meant I had achieved something. The only question that remained was whether this would be a one-time accomplishment or a first step to something.

“Thank you for the presents, Prometheus.” I went back to my bunk. “Both of them. They were lovely.”