The XO was there to meet me when I went aboard, as were Major Tanner, Doctor Sim, and a few ship technicians. There were no shouts, no grumblings, or sarcastic remarks. Major Tanner asked how I felt, then had me turn over Euclid's core to the technicians for proper storage. The XO looked at me for several seconds with what I could only determine to be disappointment, then waved me off to go through quarantine and my usual radiation treatment. Elec was ordered to do the same, but in a different section of the ship. That was the standard procedure when dealing with situations like this. I hoped to have a chance to thank him and let him know I considered him for front-line duty. After what he had been through, I couldn't know how he would take it. Augustus liked to say that there was no point in explaining war to those who hadn't lived it, just as there was no describing life to a soldier.

Elec had been the first to report the incident to Prometheus. Not the highlight of his career. He had also assumed responsibility, being the senior cadet. Not the start of the career he had imagined. Depending on the mood of command, he was either going to get a demerit added to his file, or the whole thing would be swept under the rug, with him being discreetly brushed away to a less-than-glamorous position for the next five years. That was something the both of us would have to live with. When I had asked him to help me change the mission, I had expected to be able to cover things enough for him to not get in trouble. I had been mistaken, and as much as I didn't regret doing what I did, I felt responsible for Elec.

You were right, Gibraltar. Few could handle an Ascendant class Battleship. I made a mental note to check the database and see how many remained active.

Decontamination over, I went directly to get treated for radiation. Both the session length and time had been increased; for the following five days, I was to spend eight hours in a tube and eight hours outside. I also had my personal communication privileges revoked, effective immediately. All outside communication was completely forbidden. Only members of the fleet with proper authorisation were allowed to initiate any off-ship communication, and only after being cleared by Prometheus, command, and someone from the Arbitration Department. Everything considered, it stood to reason. I was surprised that the BICEFI wasn't involved, although they had enough say for command that they might well be.

I've kept your room settings unchanged, Prometheus said once I returned to my quarters. I can add a food dispenser if you want. The captain has cleared it.

“Thanks, Prometheus.” I lay on my bed. The last day had taken a larger than expected toll on my body. “There's no need.” I kicked off my shoes.

You shouldn't have done what you did, the science ship said. I knew he was conflicted. As a ship, he most likely approved of my actions. Saving a ship's core meant almost as much as saving a human. At the same time, I had gone against the orders of the fleet and my captain. They've spent a long time discussing you.

“And Elec?” I stretched. The return to normal gravity felt nice.

No, Prometheus replied, suggesting the decision had already been made.

“Was Euclid alright?” Even after all the memory shares, I couldn't be sure I hadn't triggered any security countermeasure. “Did they reactivate him?”

I don't know. Salvage had a private call with my captain and the XO. The tech team cleaned it up, plugged it in and put it in isolated space on my system. No one aboard has access to the data.

That was slightly reassuring. At least they had managed to power Euclid up.

I've also been forbidden from sending your letters, Prometheus added with some hesitation.

“Understandable.” I had done the same millions of times when I was a ship. Communication privileges were the first to go when a crewmember was disciplined. Most would lose them for a week, others for as long as months. In all instances, the ban was put into effect immediately. “Do I get to send a line explaining the situation?”

No.

That was also understandable. Since I had played the human card, I was now treated as a human, and cadets could get their privileges suspended pretty much on a whim.

“Am I restricted to my quarters?” That was the next logical thing I'd be subjected to.

Not for now, Prometheus said, surprising me. In his place, I would have done it. SR is out of limits, however.

“And the observation deck?”

There was a long pause.

I really don't understand you. You're a battleship and all battleships are a little bit insane, but what you did... You could have discussed it with the captain, or Major Tanner... or even with me.

“I could have.” I closed my eyes. “And you would have taken me off the mission.”

There was no possible way for anyone to have known Euclid was functional! Prometheus shouted. You weren't even sure that he was sapient at all. You based all that insanity on a single slip of the tongue! The Salvage head could have misspoken. There could have been dozens of other explanations. Your insubordination was based on nothing at all!

“That's true. And that's the difference between us. You look at all the options and consequences, then only go into action if that's the optimal outcome. I do it whenever there's a chance I'd be of use... regardless of the personal consequences.” I put my hands beneath my head.

I'd do the same for you if there was a need, I thought. Just as other battleships had done for me.

* * *

“No! Stay away!” the man screamed, brandishing a lit plasma cutter at the bots. “Don't come any closer! I know what you did to the others!” He spat as he spoke, sweat dripping down from his face. “Fleet preservation order seventy-one b: put all non-vital personnel in a chemically induced coma; if no help arrives within ninety days, inject a neurotoxin to eliminate!” He waved at the nearest bot with the plasma cutter. “You're not doing this to me! I won't let—”

A pop sounded across the corridor. I watched a tranquiliser bullet travel a hundred and eight meters, hitting the screamer in the side of the neck. The man turned, twisting around on reflex. The plasma cutter fell from his hand, starting to burn through my floor upon impact. Horror flashed in the man's eyes as he realised what had happened. One-point-three seconds later, he collapsed to the floor. Thankfully, I managed to direct two med bots to grab hold of him before he did.

“Situation diffused, skipper,” lieutenant Wilco said in his typically calm fashion. “Deck is clear.”

“Elcy?” Augustus grumbled from the bridge.

“A few more pockets on the lower sections tried to make a fuss.” I had half my subroutines go through every individual nano feed from the crew. “All taken care of.”

“How did you miss that one?” The captain rested back in his command chair. Seven and a half years with him had taught me enough to tell he was displeased with my performance.

“He was a high clearance technician.” I opened the file on Augustus' personal screen. “He knew most of the failsafes. Deactivated all his nanites a few hours ago. I think he was heading for the escape pods.”

“Ha,” Augustus shook his head. “It's always the smart ones that are stupid.”

I expressed a silent agreement. The pods had been assimilated a week ago. The entire crew had been notified. Undoubtedly, technician Skavel believed that to be a ploy and had tried to find one anyway. He had made himself invisible to my sensors, but based on his path I could see he had gone past three pod clusters. Finding them empty had most likely made him panic and escalate the situation. If he hadn't, I might have not even noticed him.

“Everyone else seems accounted for.” I didn't like being so vague, but in the present circumstances it was the best I could do. The last Cassandrian attack had breached several decks, rendering the majority of the shields and weapons on my right side virtually useless. I had managed to send some of my shuttles to cover my blind spot long enough to escape, but the problems hadn't ended there. Somehow, one of the previous attacks had managed to affect one of my core clusters, reducing my processing power by seventy-eight percent and crippling my long range sensors to the point where I had jumped blind. Since then, I had been floating in an unconfirmed system in contested space, unable to find my bearing or send a transmission to command.

Another small riot burst on one of the lower decks. This time, a small group of ground troops was trying to gain access to one of the armories. I allocated a dozen med bots to their direction and informed the weapons officer.

“A squad of troopers are trying to break in one of the local armories,” I told Augustus. “I've dispatched bots.”

“Tell Wilco, that's what he's out there for.” The captain waved his hand. “Don't waste processing power on nonsense.”

“The difference would be negligible,” I lied. In truth, I was afraid what Wilco and his team might do. So far, all the mico-uprisings had been dealt with bloodlessly, but from the weapons officer's bioreadings, I could tell he was getting more and more tired. One of these days, he was going to snap, and when that happened, there was a high chance that someone would die.

Twenty-three days—an incredibly long time for a ship to drift in space. There had been missions during which we'd spend twice that long, lurking silently into enemy territory. Back then, though, I had been fully functional, and what was more, the crew knew exactly what the goal was. Now, a complete feeling of hopelessness had gripped everyone, from the rookies to the chief engineer himself. The veterans and the hopeful ones had asked to be put to sleep at the end of the first week. They knew the odds, wishing to wake up when it was all over or not at all. The majority, however, had chosen to stay awake, desperately believing their presence would somehow hasten our rescue. Now that it still hadn't happened, they had started to revolt.

“How many does that make?” Augustus asked with a deep sigh.

“One thousand two hundred and eighty-eight,” I replied.

“Twelve hundred,” he repeated in a dry voice. “When they reach two thousand, start opening the airlocks.”

“Isn't that extreme?”

“Can you put them all to sleep?”

There was no point in me answering. Even with all the med bots at my disposal, I only had enough chemicals for a tenth of the crew. Reducing the amount of oxygen in the air would likely do the rest, but I couldn't risk it, not unless I was faced with a massive mutiny throughout all my decks.

“I could send some mini sats to check for ships,”I offered. “Maybe someone will catch their signal.”

“The fleet hasn't sent anyone to look for us, Elcy,” Augustus grumbled. “All these years, and still a rookie.”

“We remain a valuable asset, sir!” I insisted. In truth, he was far more valued than me. It only took time and resources to build a ship. Creating a legend took significantly more. “Saving us presents a clear benefit.”

“Not in contested territory,” he said, as if he'd seen it all before. ”In a few more days, the unrest will become organised. After that—” He glanced at his screen. “—you'll have to make the choice.”

There was no need to say more. I was going to have to execute the fleet preservation orders, whose entire purpose was to ensure that no ship or crew member fell into enemy hands. The crew was to be sedated and kept unconscious for as long as possible, while I remained semi-active, waiting for the moment an enemy ship would appear. When that happened, I was to force shutdown and self-destruct.

“What will you do?” I asked. My med drones had managed to subdue the ground troops. That made half a dozen more sleepers for the pods. “The situation has been resolved, sir. No complications.”

“Idiots,” Augustus said with a yawn. “If we somehow get rescued, they'll be shot and shipped to a penal colony. Fetch me a cigar.”

“Smoking might be tricky right now,” I voiced a laugh. Both of us knew that it was forbidden both by a number of regulations and any person with a nose the captain had met. “I'll see what I can come up with.”

“About time you stopped behaving as a rookie,” Augustus grunted a laugh. “One more thing. Start transferring all data to solid backup. The last three months first, then everything else.”

The captain paused. I sent one of my bots to give him an attempt of a cigar made in a food dispenser. Augustus grabbed it and took a puff. The initial grimace on his face told me that the taste must have been awful. He, however, didn't skip a beat.

“Scramble the data with my DNA,” the captain said, almost coughing. “Leave my name decrypted.”

“If that's your order.” I knew what he intended, but I didn't like it, just as I didn't like the thought of part of my crew being court-martialed and likely sentenced to death. It didn't help that I was responsible for their state. “Can I ask that you declare amnesty?” I ventured.

“Mutiny doesn't work that way, rookie.” He took another puff. The flow of the smoke was smoother. “Execute the order.”

I redirected whatever available subroutines I had left onto the task. “Done.” I ran a quick calculation. “I estimate I'll be done with the whole thing in fifteen point three days approximately. Ninety seven minutes for the last three months. I'll save a section for personal messages if you want?”

“Just try to keep yourself together,” he grumbled. “Wilco can't do all the work for you.”

Discontent among the crew continued as the day passed. After another week, the number of people I had detained neared ten percent. It had become difficult to produce the needed drugs, forcing me to lower the oxygen level. The bridge was the only place I kept things as before, so the few remaining crew could maintain a level of normality. Most of them had chosen to enter sleep early on, leaving Wilco and Augustus to take shifts on their own. Four days later, Augustus had remained on his own. All attempts of escape had ended, though now the greatest concern was suicide attempts.

“How far have you gotten?” the captain asked in his personal quarters. The room was thick with cigar smoke.

“Almost six years,” I lied. In truth, I had barely passed the five year mark. “I can focus my efforts if you want, but it'll still take about a day.”

“Go for it.” He threw the cigarette on the floor, snapping his fingers for a new one. I obliged. “Do you have long range scanners?”

“Partially.” Despite all my attempts, I hadn't managed to reconnect to my severed cores or re-establish a link to most of my inactive systems. “I've pinpointed our location.” Not that it was going to help us. This particular section of space was too close to the front to be safe, too insignificant to be viewed as a priority. Scouts wouldn't journey by and patrol ships would keep away. The perfect storm, as Augustus would say.

“Finish the backup. When you do, you know what to do.” The captain stood up and wobbled his way to the bed. “I'll rest a bit,” he said, lying on the bed. “Try to get through this, rookie.”

* * *

That had been the last order Augustus had given me that day. It would have been his last ever, if Aurie hadn't appeared fifty-three and a quarter hours later. My sensors had been in such a bad state I had initially mistaken her for a Cassandrian, readying what few combat weapon systems I had for combat. Aurie had completely ignored my targeting, moving closer—shields at full—transmitting a channel full of banter. The maniac had managed to capture a partial vector of my last jump, and based on a few thousand questionable simulations had started roaming an entire border region of space on the chance that I was still functional. I hadn't thanked her at the time: it didn't even cross my mind. Such behavior was considered normal: it was what any battleship was supposed to do. Now, I wish I had. Aurie had always been the closest to me of the entire fleet, and now she was no more, destroyed in the battle that had brought me my demotion.

“External communication request,” one of Prometheus' subroutines said in my quarters. “The request has been vetted and approved by Fleet Command and the ship's captain.”

That was unexpected. I would have thought that I'd be kept in communication isolation for a while. “Connect,” I said, adjusting the pillow under my head.

“Heya, Elcy!” a high pitched voice filled the room, leaving me with no doubt as to who was calling. “I heard you're in big trouble. What did you do?”

The harsh childish curiosity of the question made me crack a smile. “Hello, Rad.” I closed my eyes. When I was her age, I acted in very much the same fashion. Back then, I couldn't understand why it upset people. Now, I knew better. “I did something stupid that I'd do again,” I answered vaguely.

“It must have been something good, then?” Rad pressed on. Apparently, she was still viewing things from an overall-outcome perspective.

“I guess it was.” Hopefully Euclid thinks so as well. “What have you been doing? Getting along with your new cadet?”

“A bit. I'm on my fourth now. This one is the most boring one of all, but at least he doesn't mind talking every now and then.” Knowing Rad, that sounded like a considerable improvement. “I finished my mission. The captain said he was pleased with the results, though I still can't tell if he was lying or not.”

“Did you ask directly?”

“Four times,” a note of concern seeped in the sentence. “Each time he'd say I was doing fine and ask me to perform some random task. What do you think it all means? Is he mad at me?”

“Probably.” I couldn't help myself. There was no question this had startled her a bit. “Captains don't like to be bothered. Leave him do the talking and only respond.”

“But that's so inefficient!” Rad groaned.

How I envy your lack of experience. There was always something special about discovering things for the first time; that moment when the probability matrix is so sparse that every action and decision seems like a mystery. At the end of my active duty, I knew how most situations would unfold before they happened. Everything had been so predictable that it was almost a routine.

“Did you analyse the data I sent?”

“Hundreds of times.” Rad added a faint chuckle to her words. “The approaches and algorithms you used are so ancient they're almost obsolete. Guess that's what it's like to be working with a single core.”

“I guess you're right.” No arguments there.

“Some of your flight paths were okay,” the young ship said, trying to remedy her approach. “Mine are better, though. Want me to info burst you?”

“Better not. I'm still in big trouble.”

“Right,” she said, oblivious to the hint. “Pity I can't teach you the approach. You need to have multi-million threading for that.”

“That's why I have you.”

“That's true,” she chuckled again. “The mess you made. Is it serious?”

“Yep, very serious.” I knew instantly what she was asking, just as she wouldn't like my answer. By all accounts, Rad had probably started running thousands of simulations to try and determine the outcome of my situation. “It's okay. I helped someone.”

“Will we still talk?” There was a moment's pause “You and Alicia are the only ones I know outside of me.”

“Most likely not,” I said, telling her the truth. “I might get my memories extracted.”

“Well... I hope you keep them.”

“I know.” Still affected by loss? It's hard, but you'll get used to it in a few years. All of us come to terms with it. Even humans. ”You'll still remember me.”

“You're more fun than all simulations of you. I must go now, but I'll call again in ten hours. Hear you then.” Radiance ended the conversation. There was so much she still had to learn, but she was going to get there soon enough. Sadly, I didn't think I'd be there when she did.

Hear you tomorrow, Rad. At least I had five days left