“Are all the coordinates set in?” Cass asked from the captain’s chair. It felt weird having her there.

Less than a month had passed since I had been recalled from the fleet, exactly four weeks and five days since Gibraltar had officially retired, leaving me a vacant ship. Even after my appeal, I had still hoped we’d serve together until the new rotation. Having him leave without a word made me feel slightly disappointed.

“Coordinates all set, ma’am.” I still didn’t like to call her captain. “I estimate less than a three percent chance of military engagement. All weapons systems checked and ready for any eventuality.”

“Calm down there, girl.” Cass laughed.

I disliked when she did that. It didn’t help that she was fresh out of the command academy with a military record that was unremarkable at best. From what I could tell, she had never been in any significant military missions, nor any classified operations. Her scores were consistently above average, and she was described as a “people person” by several of her commanders.

“We’re just going on patrol, no need to bare your fangs.” She stretched. “Set your scanners on max and go for it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I wanted to sigh. Decades of battle experience, and this was what I was stuck with—a boring, low-risk patrol area, keeping ninety-seven percent of my subroutines idle.

I did a final long range sweep and set off. There was little else I could do; enemy activity in the area was on the decline. The last time there was an incursion attempt was seventeen weeks ago. With the final stage of Operation Tiger Fang over, the Cassandrians had pulled further back into their territory, leaving new systems for humanity to seed and colonize. My job was to make sure the waypoints of these systems were safe enough for civilian ships.

Based on my simulations, the entire journey would optimally take nine days and eighteen hours. Knowing Cass’ attitude, I wouldn’t be surprised if we wasted two additional days. In any other circumstance, I would have flooded command with complaints, but considering recent events, I knew what the result would be.

“Any news on when we’ll be getting a crew?” I asked.

“You know as much as I do.” Cass adjusted her seat. It felt to me like she had been doing that non-stop since she had become captain. “It’ll happen eventually. We’re not exactly high priority, you know,” she said, chuckling.

Don’t remind me. “I would be more efficient if I wasn’t a flying coffin.”

“I’m sure, and they’ll get to it.” The captain actually patted the console front of her. The gesture was completely futile, yet I would be lying if I didn’t find it somewhat considerate. Based on her nanite data and speech pitch fluctuations, she was quite genuine. “Once the fleet distribution madness is over, I’m sure you’ll have hundreds of annoying people running through your corridors causing all sorts of chaos. Possibly an officer or two as well. Meanwhile, why don’t you chat with some of your ship friends?”

“Maybe,” I replied. After my de-facto demotion, I had lost a lot of my military communication privileges. Whole ranges had become restricted, leaving me with only the most basic general purpose channels. That wasn’t the main reason, though. The truth was that I no longer had any common topics of discussion with other battleships, and I wasn’t going to start engaging in idle chatter with patrol or transport ships.

I reached the first waypoint in less than seven minutes. Technically, it was just the connection point from the orbital station to my patrol path, but regulations demanded that I treat it like any other, and that included performing a full twenty minutes of long range scans.

“Starting perimeter scans,” I said as I got on with it.

“Do you have any music?” Cass asked getting up from her seat.

“Sure.” I sent a data burst request. None of my previous captains enjoyed music. As a result, I had never gotten into the habit of keeping any stored on me. “What would you like?”

“Anything with rhythm.” She couldn’t be more vague if she tried.

“You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that, Captain.”

“Is there anything you’re used to?”

“I’m a battleship, ma’am.” I kept a deliberately level intonation. “I don’t have a taste for music.”

“Well, then.” Cass tapped the back of her seat. “Now’s your chance to get one.”

* * *

The sound of wind and raindrops filled the room. Half a century hadn’t been enough for me to acquire a liking for music. Nature sounds, though, were a different matter. There was something about the sound and sensation of wind that made me feel at home. With a bit of processing power I could simulate the sensation of grass under my feet.

“What are you telling me?” I stared at the symbols on the wall. I had spend the last two nights trying to come to any conclusions about them, and so far I had only come up with a single theory: the dome on planet five had only given me part of the set.

While the total amount of symbols was four thousand forty-eight, plus the three fractal ones, arranging them by type similarities showed that the amount of members fluctuated based on group. I had run hundreds of classifications, each based on different criteria and the result always remained the same.

“Prometheus, I want to request a meeting with the major,” I saying lying on my back. “Officially.”

“Your request has been sent and archived,” Prometheus grumbled. If nothing else, the last few days had seen him gradually get into a better mood. Apparently our next mission—whatever it might be—was intriguing enough to lift his spirits. “It’s unlikely he’ll respond.”

“There’s no shame in trying.” I rearranged the columns of symbols on the walls. To make things more complicated, some symbols also shared characteristics in multiple categories, making a unified classification that much more difficult. I really wished I could use Prometheus’ processing power right about now. “Do you think I’ll have more luck with Ally?”

“I’m not a medical ship, Cadet!” Prometheus said sharply. “Don’t you have an SR call to get ready for?”

“Alicia canceled on me again.” I arranged a series of shapes in a circle. That seemed to present a certain degree of logic, though nothing I saw as practical. “With luck, we’ll be able to talk tomorrow.”

The last messages from her always were the same: an apology, followed by a cryptic excuse, and a new time to catch up. So far there were no indications for her being in battle, but I could see that whatever mission she was on was both sensitive and chaotic. Border patrol came to mind.

“And Buc is off gathering new cadets, so it might be a while before I hear from him, either.” Personally, I was hoping it would be sooner. “Is there anything you can tell me about our next mission?”

“You’re pushing your luck.” At least I could be sure that he knew the details. “Ally just rejected your request. She wishes to remain alone to focus on her work.”

I see. The BICEFI paranoia still had its grip on the crew. Either that or she just didn’t want to see me.

“Thanks, Prometheus.” I changed my wall display to outside view. Cass always liked to say that every problem could be resolved with a change of perspective. “I’m going to grab some food.”

Just another walk in the field. Right, Sev? He used to love walks when he was young, then grew to hate them once older. I suspected they reminded him too much of the time he spent with his wife. The last few years, he rarely left the house. When he did, it was only to stroll around the yard or grumble at me while I was fixing something. How was he doing now? I could only hope that he was well under the android caretaker’s care. The first chance I got, I’d have a talk with both at length. For the moment, I could only continue sending letters.

Several crew members greeted me by name as I made my way to the canteen. After the latest mission, it was difficult for them not to. It felt slightly strange, yet also nice. At least it helped me feel like I was a part of something.

All the tables were empty when I arrived. As was the practice, most would grab their food and return to their quarters or workstations. I asked Elec if he’d like us to have lunch together once, yet with the amount of work piled on him, he could only refuse. I took three portions from the food dispenser, even if I wasn’t hungry, then went to one of the central tables and sat down. The third contact symbols continued to occupy my thoughts, especially the one I’d seen aboard the Solar Breeze. I had examined the memory of it frame by frame, but couldn’t extract a lot from it. It didn’t help that the bot I was looking through didn’t have the most advanced camera.

“Good evening, my beautiful cadet princess!” I heard doctor Sim yell from the corridor. He was the only person aboard who no longer cared what others thought about him. I envied him in that. “Would you mind if this weary traveler joins your feast?”

I glanced in his direction. The doctor had chosen to wear his lime uniform today, making him look like an olive with hair. A large smile covered half his face, making me respond in kind. As he entered the canteen area, he waved—his hand making a series of theatrical rotations in the air—then chose the most illogical path through the tables until he reached me.

“Apologies.” He dropped onto the chair across me. “Mazes always presented a challenge.”

“I’ll keep it in mind for next time.” I kept on smiling.

“And ruin the adventure?” He faux-gasped. “What would be the fun in that?”

Never change, Doctor. I knew what he was doing, of course, yet didn’t want to offend him by making it obvious. It was no secret I would remain under close examination for a while after initiating a third contact. At least he was trying not to be so obvious about it.

“I see the standards of this place has dropped a bit in the last few decades,” he said as he grabbed one of my food portions. “Gelatinized lemon nutrients,” he read. “Fleet approved. Well, at least they were honest enough not to add ‘medically approved.’” He put it back on the table.

“I like citrus flavors,” I replied. “My academy doctor said it was good for me.”

“It’s necessary, true, but I wouldn’t go as far as call it good.” Sim shrugged. “By that logic, why not go directly with nutrient injections?” He then paused deliberately for a few seconds. “How are things?”

“No headaches.” I chose to deflect the question.

“Prometheus, give us a moment,” Sim said. “Doctor-patient privilege.” Nothing visibly changed, but I knew that the science ship’s sensors had been selectively disabled. From this moment on, thousands of subroutines would make sure that anything said, would instantly been encrypted and purged without being archived or retransmitted. “As you still analyzing the symbols?”

“Sometimes.”Among other things. “There’s nothing else I’m allowed to do.”

“I know.” The doctor shook his head with a sigh. “Usually it takes less for people to recover from external involvement... You can’t use that as an excuse. Just because the BICEFI let you keep your third contact memories doesn’t mean they’re safe.”

I nodded, even if I didn’t agree.

“Have you discovered anything?”

“Nothing specific.” Now it was my turn to shake my head. “I’m trying to find a principle to group them by, but my processing power is limited. Major Tanner keeps rejecting my requests for a meeting.”

“Might be for the better.” Doctor Sim leaned forward, placing both arms on the table. “No one likes the BICEFI, but sometimes they are not wrong.”

The moment he said it, I knew what he meant.

“I used some inventive ways to ask about,” he began. “Since I can’t go public, there aren’t any guarantees, but from what I’ve found, there have never been any cases of ships accessing restricted memories. In fact, it’s a guaranteed impossibility. That makes me wonder why you bothered to ask such a theoretical question.”

“I can’t remember the reason.” I looked him in the eye.

For a long while, we stared at each other. Having an interest in that area alone wasn’t enough to get me in trouble, yet combining this with alien exposure could tip the balance in my disfavor. The only reason that the doctor hadn’t reported me was that I had possibly gone through a full BICEFI mind sweep, and that put him in an position almost as precarious as my own.

“I’ll be adding deep memory scans to your usual ship medical.” The doctor was the first to look away. “Starting with tomorrow morning. That wouldn’t be an issue, I trust, princess?”

“Not in the least, sir.” I straightened up, trying to give myself another inch of height. “You have my consent for a full examination now, if—”

“I already have plans for tonight,” he cut me short. “I plan to sleep, perchance to dream. I recommend you do the same after your—” he glanced at my gelatine packs “—feast.”

“I am indebted to you for your advice.” From this point on, I couldn’t be sure if he would be a benefit or an obstacle to my life aboard. Technically, I hadn’t done anything wrong, but it had been enough for him to start keeping an eye on me.

“I’m sure you are.” Doctor Sim nodded a few times, then stood up. “In any event, I also recommend that you focus on your next mission. Just because it isn’t third contact doesn’t mean it isn’t important.”

“You know the mission parameters?” I tilted my head.

“What would life be without some mystery?” The doctor smiled, returning to his usual temperament. “You’ll know soon enough. Until then, feel free to speculate. Prometheus, revert to normal.” A few moments later, I was alone once more.

I stared at my food—lemon, lime, and orange flavored goo. Each packet had exactly the same nutritional value as the rest. The flavor, though, determined my preference, and preference came with risks. A simple choice was the reason I’d have to undergo memory scans every week starting tomorrow. That was of little worry. Of far larger concern were the steps Doctor Sim had taken, and based on his file, I could almost guarantee he had taken several. Back when I was a ship, I used to be amused by the constant political cat and mouse games the people on board used to play. Never did I think I would end up being a part of them. It was almost like the first days at the academy all over again.

One problem at a time, I told myself. My careless decision might have cost me a certain degree of freedom, but it didn’t change my main objective—to complete my service abroad and return to the academy for reassignment. For the moment, everything else was going to have to wait.