“Why do you like plants so much?” Sev asked, sitting on the porch.

“I find them nice.” Years had passed since we’d settled on the planet, and I had the fear that I might lose all the plants I’d grown to like. A nagging feeling scurried like an annoying spider in the back of my mind, making me feel as if I’d get a transmission from command asking me to rejoin the front. Part of me still wanted that, the part that yearned to escape the chains of gravity and be back in space where I belonged, fighting the Cassandrians.

“It’s just grass,” Sev grumbled.

Just grass. Back when I was a ship, I could never experience grass in this fashion. Cass had known what it was like, even back then. How ironic that her son’s tastes were completely different.

“Why can’t we move closer to the city? There are much more people there.”

“There are enough people here.”

“There’s more boredom, too.” Sev stood up. “Can you at least buy an SR rig? Everyone has them.”

“Maybe,” I lied. I lacked the means or the desire to buy an SR pod. It reminded me too much of my past life. Battles and simulations weren’t who I was anymore. And if I were to keep my promise to my captain, they’d never be part of Sev’s either. “Have something to eat. I’ll be there in a while.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“I know.” I looked at him, moving my lips into a measured smile. “And it’s always true.”

I just don’t want all of this to vanish.

* * *

The planet never had a name, merely a string of letters and numbers. The BICEFI didn’t see it as something permanent, so they didn’t bother giving it one. If I was given the power, I would have called it Cass.

The first two days, Lux would fly to the surface every morning and remain there for twelve hours. All the time she was on the planet, I was with her. My tasks were simple: watch her find a specific point on the planet, stand fifteen meters away while she performed a probing scan of the ground beneath her, then move to the next spot. Every four hours we’d return to the landing site, where we’d stop long enough to have something to eat and recharge our oxygen before continuing with the research.

On the first return, Lux would return to Prometheus and bury herself in her quarters. I remained on standby, ready to go down on a moment’s notice. Most of the time, I would go through my newly formed memories, trying to find a link between them and the third-contact symbols. Occasionally, Jax would pass to spend some time and share his experiences planetside. Suspiciously, no one else engaged in any contact with me, Prometheus included. Knowing the effect BICEFI had on crews, I didn’t blame them for keeping their distance, although I also hoped that they wouldn’t. When Augustus was my captain, Fleet Intelligence had never caused anyone to become isolated from the rest of the crew. Then again, few could compare to Augustus.

No special instructions were given on the third day. Lux remained in her quarters, avoiding any contact with me or the crew without explanation. After failing to reach her through any channels, I tried in person, and when that failed, I asked Prometheus. Initially he didn’t respond, but an hour later, I was informed I would be put on standard duty alongside Jax. That’s when things got complicated. Due to the top-secret nature of the mission, I had entered another joy of the bureaucratic system: the “bureaucratic loop.” The only people who had the authority to change my mission orders were Command and BICEFI. Because of the imposed information blackout—and the threat of artefact contamination if I’d venture a guess—channels outside Prometheus’ had been scrambled. Meanwhile, the only person who could go beyond the block, or issue me new orders, had imposed full privacy mode. As a result, I was ordered to stay with Jax and mirror the instructions he would receive. The only difference was that I was considered in charge, meaning all the responsibility fell on me.

Well, Sev, I got my first actual command, I thought as I went through quarantine. It’s definitely not how I imagined it. Although, I said the same when I promised to take care of you.

Back when I had taken guardianship of him, I had believed I was prepared for the task. Seventy years of experience later, I could see how clueless I had been. At the time, I had assumed that taking care of a ward would be no different than taking care of my crews. It had taken less than a day to see how mistaken I was. Protecting someone when equipped with millions of subroutines, bots, and enough metal alloys to build a small colony was easy. Having to look over a child whose obedience and self-preservation instinct were questionable, with nothing but a single core, was like flying through a minefield blind.

The shuttle was packed at takeoff. Twenty-six people filled the passenger compartment, sharing what little space there was with equipment crates—a far cry from the spacious flights I’d enjoyed with Lux. The moment I stepped in, all set their helmet’s opacity to full. From my time on the front, I knew there were only two times when this was performed: when a person was either despised or mistrusted. With my special treatment becoming visible in the last few days, I could only guess as to what conclusions they had come.

No one said a word during the flight, unlike Lux. The woman would constantly direct the conversation towards my first mission on Prometheus. She would always make it seem like it was to pass the time, but she was very careful not to mention anything about the mission. I suspected that was also the reason of the current silence. People didn’t like being kept in the dark. It was only the ships that didn’t care.

At landing, Prometheus confirmed everyone’s mission assignments. The group split up into teams of two to four, then set off to their assigned areas. The area set for Jax and me was about six kilometers from the landing site in a region of dense forest vegetation.

“We’ll need sample containers,” Jax said, strapping on a large back-kit. “One pack each.”

“Any tools?” I glanced at the rest of the equipment. Over half of the containers had remained untouched.

“Nah,” Jax laughed. “They’re just dead weight. You’ll never get permission to use them. I took a whole bunch the first day. Big mistake. Had to drag them around for the next six hours.”

“Six hours?” I brought up the mission specifics on my visor. “It says four on my copy.”

“It does, but Prometheus okayed we merge the shifts in two six-hour groups. Saves time that way.”

This was something only a science ship would allow. On the front I’d witnessed people be brigged for order-tampering. Even Augustus didn’t approve of the practice, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise.

Everything is written for a reason, he used to say. Half of the time, the reason was deemed bad, but he always made a point before taking any action.

“I don’t mind.” I grabbed a basic survey kit and attached it to the side of my spacesuit. Being on a planet with alien life wasn’t a place to set out unprepared, especially with alien artifacts around.

Any chance I’ll get any weapons? I asked Prometheus.

Not until you’re in a warzone, the science ship replied.

In that case, you must broaden your definition. Any news from Lux?

The operative is still in her quarters. I’ve been sending requests for contact every fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s analyzing some specimen, determining how to classify it.

Unlikely. I did an inventory check of the remaining containers. Most were sample containers, with a few standard probe devices and medical supplies. She didn’t find anything so far.

Unless she did and quarantined your memories of it.

Maybe. With the BICEFI, it was always a possibility, though I suspected she was reporting to her headquarters. Thanks for the chat. I gave a nod to Jax and left the shuttle.

As we walked, I couldn’t help but look around, trying to memorize as much of the environment as possible. The more I looked, the more I got the impression that something was off. I’d fought in hundreds of systems that maintained life, from bacterial traces to full-fledged colony centers. In all that time, I had noticed one constant—human presence tended to make inhabited worlds look the same. This planet was different. The abundance of water and the proximity to a white star had allowed the local flora to flourish, and yet not a single animal specimen had been spotted. Based on the current mission, thousands of different plant species had been gathered and classified in the last two days and not a single insect, animal, or fungus. From the team video feeds Prometheus had shared before the mission, all local plants had evolved without any apparent means of defense; there were no thorns, no spikes, no poison, which made them extremely vulnerable to outside interference. It was safe to say that the primary purpose of our spacesuits weren’t to keep us safe, but to protect the local life-forms from us.

“What’s our quota?” I adjusted my backpack. It didn’t feel heavy, but my small body frame made walking somewhat uncomfortable.

“Until we run out of containers.” Jax offered me a hand. “Didn’t you do the same when you were with the BICEFI?”

“No.” I held onto his hand for long enough to adjust my balance. “But I can’t elaborate more.”

“Anything I should worry about?” Jax added a laugh to give it the presence of a joke, but I knew what he was really asking.

“No,” I lied. “Six-hour shift?” I brought up the area map on my visor.

“Six hours,” Jax repeated. His voice sounded hollow.

“Six hours.” I nodded, then led on.

The first part of our trip went through high grass. It was very different from any I’d seen during my two days spent with Lux, much wider and full of life. I reached to grab a sample. My fingers brushed through it, creating the slightest sensation of pushback. Any other sensations were lost on the gloves. Given the option, I would have liked to touch it.

“Still have a thing for plants?” Jax asked, looking at my actions. “You were the same back at the training station.”

“Even before the training station.” I continued forward.

In ten minutes, the grass gave way to a series of multicolored sponge-like bushes ranging from amber to pale red. I gently brushed my fingers along them as we passed. The texture felt soft, almost mossy, and fragile enough for my glove to leave scars on their surface.

Delicate and fragile. I pulled my hand away. And somehow you’ve managed to survive.

“Gathered any of these?” I asked, zooming in on our mission marker. There was still a way to go until we reached our gathering area.

“Think so,” Jax said, barely giving them a second glance.

“What are they like?”

“You’ll have to ask Prometheus. Need to know, remember?” He smirked.

“How could I forget?”

It took us fifteen minutes to walk through the sponge-bushes, to the start of a seemingly tropical forest. The trees were similar to what I was used to, although their bark resembled layers of paper wrapped around each other in wrinkly fashion.

“Prometheus, we’ve reached out mission coordinates,” I officially announced. A few steps away, Jax took off his back-kit. “We’re starting sample gathering. Any further instructions?”

As if you’ll take any into consideration, Prometheus said, adding a deliberately snobbish note to his tone. He was also right. Try not to start any trouble and keep the kid safe. I shouldn’t have to remind you that he’s your responsibility.

“I’ll do my best.” I took a zoomed-out view of the area from above. Most of the sunlight was blocked by a thick canopy of leaves. From below, the leaves looked indigo blue, merging with the branches at the stems.

“What’s the procedure?” I took off my pack of vials. There was nothing in the mission instructions, which was slightly strange. Knowing Prometheus and the people on board, I expected a detailed method plan to be a must. “Do I grab anything I see?”

“I wish,” Jax laughed. “We explore plants in the area. When we find something interesting, the home team will let us know how to proceed. Everything’s on a one to one case.”

“I see.” Using us for things the average AI sample drone could perform. The BICEFI was clearly concerned not to repeat the fiasco on Mission Eden. “Starting with the trees.”

Every battleship had been directed remotely at some point of their existence. In large scale battles, strategy ships often took control to coordinate entire fleets against the enemy. That was one of our main advantages over the Cassandrians, making up for our lack of numbers and firepower. Being directed by a science team, though, was completely new, and they were terribly inefficient in it. Initially, it was my job to walk around in grid-like fashion, looking at everything of significance. Whenever a new suspected specimen was spotted, I’d be told to inspect it more closely and, should it indeed be new—which happened approximately seventeen percent of the time—proceed to collect a sample. Jax didn’t mind the process, treating it with the typical calm cynicism that the fleet instilled in its ranks. After one hour of trial and error on the onboard team, I asked Prometheus for a full catalogue of specimen to speed up the process. The request was forwarded to the Captain, then to the XO, then—since Miss Lux didn’t respond within an hour—was granted on provisional grounds, with the disclaimer that the information would be removed from my memory at the end of the mission. Three minutes later, an info burst followed. It turned out that there were eleven thousand identified species, some with up to seventy-eight sub variants—far more than the current teams could have gathered. Apparently, the BICEFI had been landing on the planet long before Prometheus was given the mission. Even stranger, they had been uncharacteristically open with information sharing.

“Feel like a bite?” Jax asked through the comm. I couldn’t see him, but according to the map marker, he was a hundred and seventy-three meters away from my position.

“There are over two hours left.” I checked the time. “Didn’t you say we were on six-hour shifts?”

“We are, but we’ve been given flexibility.” By his voice, I could tell he was smiling. “It’s not like the plants will go anywhere.”

“Most likely not.” Although you never know. “Let me just finish with my grid square and we’ll go.”

“Okie dokie. Be with you in a bit.”

Spacesuit aside, this reminded me of the times we went “exploring” with Sev near our house. The euphoria had barely lasted a few months, after which he had grown tired of looking at the same things and only tagged along to be close to me. As his interest waned, so did the amount number of times we would wander into the wilderness, until finally—nineteen months and a week later—it stopped altogether. I would still go, enjoying the trip even if I remembered every single bush, tree, and flower I had seen. It was the pleasure of walking through them that attracted me, something that Sev never understood. In his eyes, I was just wasting my time.

“I’m done,” Jax’s voice came from the comm. “You?”

“Almost.” I checked my grid area.

Five trees remained to be inspected before I could call it done. I glanced over the bark of the trunks, starting from the ground and moving to the branches and leaves. All were near identical, sharing the overall characteristics, with the expected amount of deviations. As I reached the fourth, something in the leaf pattern stood out.

“Jax.” I stepped closer to a branch, then took a lower leaf with both hands and gently stretched it. “Have the trees been sampled?”

“These trees?” There was a moment of uncertainty. “Yes, on day one. They’re all over the planet.”

“How many of them have leaves with fractal patterns?”

Priority zero fleet communication protocols. Memory restriction removed.

* * *

“What’s with the fractals?” Augustus asked from the corner of the room.

My subroutines wouldn’t identify its onboard location, but from the equipment present, I could summarize it was an engineering lab. The space was large enough to hold seven people—five comfortably. At present, there were only three, of which I only recognized Augustus. The remaining two had identity protection, making me unable to visualize their features.

“It’s present in most finds, so it must mean something,” one of the unknowns said with a scrambled voice. “For all we know, it might be their language.”

“Or an authentication marker,” the third person said in an identical voice. “Light Seeker, how long is the sequence, taking the smallest element for the primary symbol?”

“Approximately eleven million ninety thousand one hundred and fifty-one,” I replied. I didn’t like doing such estimations. “That is assuming a linear sequence exists without any cross relations.”

Even with my processing power, I couldn’t process all the potential variables. My sensors scanned the surface of the device again, at maximum magnification. There were no changes from the last nine times, just a single fractal pattern covering all sides of the object, going on almost to the atomic level.

“What’s its origin?” The first unknown turned to Augustus.

“No idea.” The captain crossed his arms. “Was in a hidden section onboard. Someone from the crew might know.”

The possibility was unlikely. Two weeks after I took them onboard, the survivors had started developing rapid neurological degradation. By the time MedCore had arrived to transport them to a quarantine station, three-quarters reported little to no brain activity. I didn’t have the database of a medical ship, but I could tell the rest had started showing signs of insanity.

“You had me go through a lot of trouble to get this toy.” There was a hint of restrained anger in Augustus’ voice. “And I don’t see it being any use against the Sandies.”

“Better than having them trying to figure it out,” the unknown replied, causing Augustus to grunt.

Seven sides, all covered in fractals script. I agreed it had to mean something, but also shared Augustus’ opinion that it wasn’t helping us in the war. Lately, losses on the Cassandrian front had increased, outpacing the speed of ship construction.

“I’m glad.” This was the first time I’d heard Augustus use genuine sarcasm. It sounded strange. “Is there anything else you’d like, or can I return to the war?”

“Just a few final things.” The second unknown moved neared to the captain. “Light Seeker, disable all room sensors.”