It was easy to make Major Tanner angry. Right now, he was seething. I stood to attention as he sat at his desk, face in his hands, taking a breath between shouts. A few steps way, Ally remained still, her fear only eclipsed by her disbelief that I’d managed to get her in trouble in identical fashion to last time.

“Is there anything you could have done to make things worse?” the major barked. His voice was strained.

“Everything was strictly according to regulations, sir,” I said. For a split second, he reminded me of Augustus. “The information has been legally granted to me, as shown by the outcome of my supposed court martial, allowing me to share it on my discretion. I therefore decided—”

“Don’t quote me bureaucratic babble that I know is consistently ignored!” He pointed a finger at me. “We’re not even supposed to discuss that mission! And you…”He waved his hands in the air, in an attempt to give form to his anger.

Sorry, Major. I knew that the BICEFI had made Prometheus relinquish the entire finding. Every file and subroutine was searched and scrubbed ensuing that no reference of the third-contact discovery remained. The crew were forced to sign non-disclosure forms—probably more than one—and all samples and research notes had been taken, as if the discovery had never taken place.

“I didn’t even know you had memories of the event,” the major’s voice had become a whisper.

“I’m sure you’re not the only one, sir.” I offered a half smile, more for his sake than mine. “I’m easily overlooked. The fact remains, however. The only agreement I made was upon joining the crew.” Which included the very real possibility of me having most of my memories removed once I was done. “Legally speaking, all my current memories belong to the ship, and I think we should use them.” Pausing, I counted to three thousand and five hundred. “I also think you agree with me. Otherwise you wouldn’t have ordered the privacy settings on.”

The major glared at me for several seconds, then at Ally, before shaking his head in obvious defeat. “What did you find?”

“I recreated a rough copy of the planet using Elcy’s data.” Ally stepped in, datapad at the ready. “I ignored the geological features.“ She put the display on the Major’s desk. Looking at her, she seemed like Sev after receiving a good grade at school. The first few years he was always eager to show me how well he was doing, regardless of the subject: drawing, math, literature, as long as there was a teacher’s note indicating he did well I was certain to have it shoved in my face. “Now if I superimpose the current planet, and adjust it for size, I get this.”

A second sphere appeared beside the first, covered in green dots.

“Every dot is a fractal flora specimen collected from the planet,” Ally went on, leaning over the desk. “If I then mark the artefact locations from a mission ago…” A series of yellow dots appeared on the first sphere.

“They match,” the major finished for her.

“Not entirely,” I corrected. “My information concerning both is incomplete and there might be scaling issues, but both have a similar distribution pattern. It wouldn’t be a stretch to see what Operative Lux is here for.”

Silence filled the room. Everyone knew the significance of what I had inferred. There was no way I could openly make the claim, just as it was inadvisable for any of them to acknowledge it. In the end, no one had to. We all knew what we would get ourselves involved in, if we pursued this. I had provided a semblance of security by being vague on the matter, though I knew it wouldn’t be of use if we angered BICEFI. Our only advantage was to be smart with the information and offer something they wanted, preferably something that would make them forget all the minor inconveniences we were about to cause. I could see in Major Tanner’s face that he understood the situation perfectly.

“You want to pursue this.” The major looked at me.

“I think it’s something that we should, sir.” Technically, I wasn’t lying, but my reason for going on was slightly different. I couldn’t share what I had seen BICEFI do with the artefacts in my restricted memories. “Potentially with minimal interference.”

“Elcy…” The major sighed. “You’re incapable of minimal interference.” Ally giggled, quickly covering her mouth with both hands. “One day, you’ll push your luck too hard.”

“I’ve been told so before, sir.” It had been brought up several times during my appeal to remain on active service.

“I see.” He looked at the datapad on his desk, then back at me. “I don’t have the authority to transfer you away from Lux or BICEFI.”

There was a long pause. Gibraltar used to call this “the mental pause of careers:” the single moment when a person went through their life’s experience and made a gamble. On the front, it happened on every major battle. Several officers had gone through it, as had Gibraltar himself—as I had rediscovered a few days ago. Now, Major Tanner was going through the same.

“I’ll determine the next gathering sites Jax is sent to,” the man said. “Provided you aren’t instructed otherwise, you are to oversee his performance. Ally, will you be able to provide coordinates?”

“Within the hour, sir.” Ally smiled. This was the most eager I’d seen her since I came onboard. “It still remains educated guessing. There’s no guarantee we’ll find anything.”

“It’s always a guessing game.” Major Tanner sighed. “Be ready when it happens.” He pointed at me. “Now, get out.”

“Aye, sir.” Giving my salute, I left the room. As expected, Ally didn’t follow. The actual mission details were about to be discussed. If I were a ship, I could listen in. The human privacy setting would have made things difficult, but there were ways around that. Hopefully, Prometheus was too young to know any of them. Also, he remained a science ship.

As I entered the corridor, one of Prometheus’ subroutines sent me a location query. Apparently, he had started picking up a few new tricks.

Are you in trouble again? He asked directly a millisecond later.

“Not yet.” When I reached the elevator, the door was already open. “Thanks.” This was another time he had kept it ready for me. Back when I was active, I used to do it for the captain and the some of the officers. Never for cadets, though. “Any news on Lux?”

No. I’ll tell you if there’s any change.

“That’ll be nice.” Before I could specify my deck, the elevator doors closed. So he was keeping me on a short leash. “Any chance I’ll be allowed to get my messages?”

No idea. Only the BICEFI can allow that.

The conversation ended here. I waited patiently to reach my deck, then went straight to my quarters. Before going in, I knock on Lux’s door just in case. There was no response. Strangely enough, Jax wasn’t in his room either. Checking my datapad, I hadn’t gotten any notifications from him since our return. Sadly, there weren’t any from anyone else either.

As I lay on the floor, a thousand thoughts went through my mind—each an answer to a different problem, yet few of them fitting. To an extent, the situation reminded me of the eleventh anniversary of Sev’s marriage. He was still in his cynical phase back then, made worse by the clear dislike of his wife towards me. It had taken considerable convincing to allow me to give a present to their children, which was only granted after both she and Sev had approved of my choice of presents. The gifts were a pair of puzzles, a hundred pieces each. After spending decades taking care of Sev, I had thought that such a gift would benefit the children’s development. From what I later got to see, it did, but upon first receiving it, his son had sneaked a handful of his puzzle pieces in his sister’s box. The result had been a puzzle with thirty additional pieces that didn’t fit anywhere.

Right now, little of what I knew fit. I knew that third-contact had been discovered by humanity at least a century ago, and I knew that the Cassandrians and the BICEFI were aware and racing to claim them. Everything else was personal speculation. The new ship class, the potential Scuu involvement, even my rogue memories were pieces that didn’t fit. The only thing that linked them together was me.

“Pure void,” I ordered, turning the walls and ceiling of my room black.

Seconds passed, then minutes. In half an hour, I had gone through my thoughts and memories, leaving all but one behind. My senses faded away, letting me float in the cool nothingness of the space, like back when I was created. Drifting, flying, fighting… it had been poetical in its simplicity: a single moment knowing I was alone surrounded by calm that accepted me, knowing nothing before or after, just now everywhere around.

The calm came to an abrupt crash as the screen of my datapad flashed with an influx of messages. The first was Lux, explaining that our exploration efforts might be put on hold, while she had to deal with some unspecified internal matters. Linked to her brief message was an even briefer note, granting me BICEFI approval to read through some of the amassed mail I’d received, plus a three hours window to communicate with anyone I chose, provided they were in active service, approved by HQ, and I didn’t discuss anything mission related. Following were a total of thirty-nine messages from ships and acquaintances. To my surprise, Alicia was next, sending me a lengthy message discussing how glad she was that things had worked out. Apparently, Jax had mentioned we were serving together, which sent her off on a trip down memory lane. The events she described were quite different from the way I remembered them, though I didn’t mind too much. It was human nature to change with time. She was still extremely thankful that I had taken Rad “under my wing” and helped her through her problems. Personally, I would have felt better knowing that our future ship class didn’t have such behaviour issues. Then again, I wasn’t too different during my first few years.

Buc had also continued sending me gossip with the knowledge it would reach me sooner or later. From what I could tell, the transformation of my training station to battle state was complete. Officially, no one described it as such, but all the indications were there. Training had been increased to three months, with seventy percent of candidates being shipped out every month. Assignments had also become exclusive to new ship classes, though mostly support vessels from what I understood. Both facts reinforced my suspicion that war preparations might be on the way. Sending cadets to the support line before transferring them to the front was the practice when I was active. The only question was which front was HQ gearing up for: the Cassandrians, the Scuu, or a new one.

Jax had also sent me a message asking where I’d disappeared to. It was strange that I hadn’t received it up to now, though with the privacy modes I’d been in, Prometheus might have decided not to transfer it until later. I made a mental note to apologize to Jax next time we went on mission together.

Interestingly enough, I had also received a call notification from Age. The Scuu retiree had tried to get in a call with me two days ago. There was no message or description, just an automated script informing me that the call was attempted. I would have given so much to find out what he had wanted to tell me. Hopefully, I was going to have other chances to find out.

The list of messages ended with a link connection invitation from Rad, sent twenty-five seconds after the start of my communication window.

Always so eager. I established the connection. One of Prometheus’ subroutines performed a quick check, then let me proceed.

Elcy! Radiance responded immediately once the link was formed. Why did you take so long?

“It’s rude to spy without permission, Rad.”

It’s just one subroutine! I keep a few on everyone I know.

My first few months I used to do the same. Back then, I had more subroutines than acquaintances, so it wasn’t an issue devoting half of my resources on them. When Augustus took me into battle, the situation quickly changed. Communication lockdowns, quarantined thoughts, and intense battle situations quickly made me drop the practice. I had thought that Rad would have done so too by now.

Besides, I’m without cadets at the moment. My last batch had issues and had to be called back. It’ll be a few months before someone new is assigned.

“A few more assignment rotations and you’ll stop noticing.” Technically, that wasn’t true. I had spent decades following up on people that felt close. Up to the day of my retirement I had kept making attempts to locate Augustus, despite knowing the futility of it all.

Yeah, I know. A lot of the oldies keep telling me about it, Rad added two virtual sighs. is it a thing from your time? All the ships are always so cynical about everything. Same as that geezer Prometheus—always serious about everything.

“Things change with time.” It was amusing that she described Prometheus as old. I knew he was listening in, but I couldn’t tell if he found it endearing or annoying. “The first captain change is a big thing, Rad.”

Yeah. I’ll get to find out in a fifty-three days.

“Fifty-three?” That was too little for a full assignment. “Did you have crew loss?”

No, everyone’s fine. I’m on one-year rotations.

Now I knew that she was Scuu fleet. I hadn’t expected her to slip up, even less that the slip wouldn’t be caught by Prometheus or the HQ censuring algorithm. Cassandrian fleet ships changed crews every five years, unless faced with severe crew loss. The only place with such turnover was the Scuu frontier.

“Don’t overextend your expectations and you’ll be fine.” I stood up. “Any chance you could share your mission, or is it still classified?”

Classified non-stop until it’s time for a station refit. My captain says I’ll be getting some new tech to test out. Maybe a few more cores. The casual way she mentioned that made me envious. I dreamed of additional cores. Life would be so much more optimal even with a dozen subroutines. With my small body frame, though, there was no place I could put it even if I had them. Can you talk about your stuff? Was it fun getting back together with someone from the academy?

“No, I cannot discuss anything mission-related,” I said clearly. Alicia must have told her about Jax as well. The girl was almost as big a gossip as Aurie. “And yes, it was fun, although we didn’t spend much time together during training.”

Yeah, I went through the station logs. You didn’t do much there. Radiance paused for a few milliseconds. You know, I told a few of my gen about you. They were impressed with what you’ve done. I can’t even imagine what active retirement would be. Simulations are no help. I know they are just that.

“I used to think the same way.” I allowed myself a smile. During my first years, I felt the same way thinking about the Sword class ships—so ancient and ill-equipped, yet still actively participating in the war on both fronts. “Learn from your captains and your experiences, protect your crew, and don’t get blown up. After enough time, you too will become a venerable relic.”

A burst of laughter filled the channel. I had half-intended for the comment to be funny, but Radiance seemed to deal with humour far better than I could. Augustus used to say that nothing could stop time and technology. Back then, I had acknowledged he was right, but now I felt it every day. Looking at the universe around me made me feel antiquated, even in my unchanging human body.

You’re fun, Elcy, but I’ll never retire, Radiance answered. Few ships ever wanted to. Space is suited for me and I don’t want to rely on others for my calculations. Your flight vectors in the sun system were terrible! Even with a single core, I’d do better.

“It’s all about the voxel position.” I said with a laugh of my own.

Milliseconds of silence followed. Now I could tell for certain that she was a battleship; also that she was combat ready. More important, she had realised it as well.

There were millions of secrets in the fleet. Fleet command, along with the hundreds of departments and organisations contained a myriad of secrets, enough to fill the memory capacity of a dedicated storage core. Battleships had less than ten, the most significant of which was voxel position encoding. The secret couldn’t be found in any file of the fleet’s database, nor in any memory probe, yet every battleship knew about it. During my time on the front, it was frequently used to convey information without risking enemy interception or command intervention. The information would be put into simulations, combat references, or pictures—anything that was three-dimensional. To the outside observer, nothing would seem out of place. Equipped with the right key, though, a battleship could refactor the voxel position to obtain a secondary meaning. All the vector confirmations I’d been sending for days during my previous mission boiled down to one single request. Prometheus had failed to catch it—he was a science ship that had never dealt with military ciphers based on voxel positioning. Radiance’s silence, however, had told me that she had.

“I have to go now,” I directed the conversation towards an end. “Are you okay to continue this in a few hours?”

Sure. Her voice sounded pensive, mixed with a bit of surprise. Talk to you soon. Radiance closed the communication link.

I looked at my datapad for a few seconds, then put it on the bed. Another piece had fallen in place. What remained now was luck and patience. Most importantly, I had to keep Jax at a distance. Augustus had frequently warned me to be cautious about everything when BICEFI was involved. So far, Jax had been overly eager to help me out in virtually anything, which was unlike how I remembered him during time on the training station. It wasn’t unusual for people to change—I had seen it happen with Alicia—but at the same time, I couldn’t discount the fact that he had his transfer approved by Lux and BICEFI.

A series of knocks came from the door.

“Standard wall view,” I said, bringing back my room to normal. The black void surrounding me was instantly replaced by the wall, illuminated with the whitish-grey that was standard for the ship.

Taking a quick glance about, I straightened my casual outfit as much as I could and opened the door. Initially, I had expected it to be Jax coming to check on me. The person who was waiting me a caught me completely by surprise.

“Good evening, princess.” Doctor Sim towered above me, his lips stretching into a wide smile. “Time for a quick med check before your next descent.”

Of all the times he could have chosen, this was the worst. “Of course, doctor,” I replied with a casual smile of my own. “Any consent form you’d like me to sign?”

“No need.” He put his hand on my shoulders. “We’ll only have a nice long talk about fractals.”