There always were questions. Before and after each refit, the shipyard performed a series of checks and simulations, to make sure the new systems were fully compatible. For twelve hours, all my subroutines would engage in a constant to-and-fro with the shipyard’s compliance core, restarting each time an inconsistency was found. Once the checking process was over, every ship would go through a quick thought exam: a question about a random event would be asked, and the corresponding memory block would be grabbed and sent for analysis. There was no major discomfort, but I didn’t like the experience. Normally, I would be asked between three and five questions. Doctor Sim had hinted that he’d go for ten.

“This won’t take long,” he said, securing a neuro cable cluster to my neck. “As soon as I confirm your bio readings are fine, we’ll start with the questions.”

“Understood.” I stared at the ceiling. “Will Prometheus be doing the mind check?”

“Yes.” The doctor tapped away at something, then walked a short distance away, most likely checking some readings. “Your bone density is slightly low. Have you been exercising regularly?”

“Every night. It gives me something to do when I’m awake.” In truth, I’d halved my workout since helping Euclid. “I’ve also been doing regular sessions in the gym.”

“Hmm.” There was some more tapping. “I’ll double your gelatin dose. Take some every two hours and double your training regimen. Space tends to have a negative effect on the body, even with nanite injections.”

“I’m aware, Doctor.” That was the first thing Augustus had made me monitor the crew for.

“Knowing is good, but you must also take care of yourself, princess. You’re not young anymore.” He let out a stifled laugh. The humor was poor, as was his attempt to hide his nervousness. His voice was ringing with it, and that made me feel uneasy. “Other than that, your readings are fine. You haven’t lost much muscle mass, and your nanites are very up to date.”

Doctor Sim put something away—probably a data pad or other equipment device—then moved back towards my corner of the room. I felt a slight chill as the slab I was lying on changed temperature. The doctor bent over me. The smile he’d kept on his face since he fetched me from my quarters was gone, replaced by cold determination. An instant later, the image disappeared.

“Why did you come out of retirement?” A question registered in my mind. I couldn’t differentiate any voice features, but I knew it belonged to the doctor.

My core scrolled through my memories stopping on the moment it happened. It had started with a plastic blue letter. I had just returned with food and went to prepare Sev’s meal, when he remained untypically quiet. At the time, I had feared he might have hurt himself or gone into one of his darker moods. The letter was waiting for me on the table. I could tell it was military by the holographic seal. Sev had enlisted me without my knowledge. He pretended he wanted to get rid of me, that he needed the peace and quiet. I knew he was lying—he could tell I missed the ships and the stars, and he was right even if I didn’t admit it. My promise to Cass had kept me to on the planet, and I didn’t regret making it, and still I wanted to feel the void once more. That is why I didn’t refuse. I packed a few of my things and went to the recruitment center.

Memory release

Reality unfroze as I regained access to my senses and other memories. Directed memory grabbing was never a pleasant experience; it was designed in such a way as to be fast and efficient, causing no collateral damage. What it wasn’t designed to do was to avoid feeling like a asteroid field scraping through my hull.

“Why did you choose the fleet?” Another question echoed.

I visualized myself on the auto train travelling towards the recruitment center. My decision had been made there. Sev had wanted me to become a full ship, regain a husk and fly between systems as I had during his father’s death. I couldn’t be sure how clearly he remembered the event: it wasn’t something he wished to share. That didn’t stop him from noticing every time I spoke to another ship. The occasions were rare, but he’d always ask me about it, worried that I might sprout engines and disappear. Not once did the thought cross my mind.

As I looked down, my glance fell on the small bag I had packed my personal belongings in—a few shirts, two pairs of socks, a skirt, two sets of underwear, and a towel. I could tell the precise moment I had bought each of those, what they had been through, how they felt. None had any special monetary or sentimental value, but I still found them dear. They reminded me of my life with Sev. The sandals, on the other hand, were far more special—they reminded me of the fact that I was human.

A cool draft could be felt as the train picked up speed. I had never felt that as a ship, just as I had never felt thousands of other sensations. I didn’t want to lose them now that I was returning to service. I had seen the rate at which technology had advanced since my retirement. It was likely possible to be granted a new ship husk if I wanted, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I—

Memory release

The release felt like a knife going through my skin. Somewhere in the darkness, seven beeps sounded a hundred milliseconds apart. Apparently Doctor Sim was new to thought questioning, causing him to trigger the built-in safeguards. The shipyard technicians were far more careful and precise in their questioning; they were specialists in their field, having gone through hundreds of ships. I could only hope that the good doctor was a quick learner.

“How did you discover the third-contact artifact?”

An image of Ally’s messy lab appeared. She had gathered planetary data from the ship probes and composed a simulated reality construct. Since I was the only one cleared to get to the planet, all other exploration would be done remotely using exoskeletons, with the crew directing every action from the SR pods. From what I gathered, this was the standard procedure for such ground missions; Prometheus hadn’t directed a human planetary descent in the past, so the science team was relying on my expertise back from my active service days. The mission was supposed to start a few days later, but Ally offered for me to do a test run.

The simulation was perfect. Even with the glitches, I felt as if I were on the planetary surface. Ally had intensified the colors, adding a few additional features of her own, making me feel if I were on an inhabited world full of black sand, crimson rocks, and amber crystals. I spent thousands of milliseconds admiring the view, and then when I had enough of it, I took a step forward. The SR glitched, making me freeze. Specks of virtual static formed all around, switching between half-built landscapes. When it settled on one, I was standing in front of a large chunk of yellow crystal formation rising from the ground. There was something trapped inside—a three-dimensional symbol made entirely of geometrical forms. The distances between its connecting points were perfectly measured, as were the angles of its components. It was obvious that it couldn’t be a natural occurrence.

Memory release

“How did you find the dome?”

I saw myself walking through a tunnel of yellow quartz, careful not to—

Memory release

The release interrupted the memory recollection, cutting it short like a whip hitting a fly. I felt a wave of extreme discomfort pass through me, followed by a new series of beeps. The doctor had stopped the answer abruptly, almost as if he had mistaken the question. Part of me clinged to the two percent chance that he would end the med check.

“What is so important about fractals?”

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

A small opening had formed in the quartz—my first peek at the dome’s top. Everyone expected it to be different from the other open areas of the artifact, and they were right. The symbol wasn’t three dimensional like the rest I had encountered on the planet. Instead, it was a perfect fractal within a seven-point star. I increased the magnification as much as the suit system would let me. The fractal seemed to go on to the molecular level. If I had my battleship sensors and processing power, maybe I could have read it. Maybe Prometheus could have, if he hadn’t been quarantined so as not to see them. Command must have issued the order, though for what reason, I couldn’t explain.

Of all the third-contact symbols, this was the one that stood out the most. Ally had spent her time sharing theory snippets through com, between telling me which section of the dome to uncover. One of her suspicions was that there should be six more fractal symbols scattered on the surface, and she also believed they would activate the artifact in some way. By the way Major Tanner reacted, I knew that someone was overseeing our communications, most likely issuing the real orders. I could tell this wasn’t the first artifact of this nature that humanity had come across. Nothing of that nature was shared with the public or was mentioned in the fleet database, but for anyone involved it was more than obvious to the point I was surprised not to have had my thoughts quarantined as well.

Memory block restricted. Memory release

The next question didn’t follow for a while. The hint of observation most likely had given the doctor something to think about. It was possible that he believed the fractal script responsible for my anomalous behavior. Looking at things logically, it was at that point I had started showing interest in the Scuu and asked him if it were normal for ships to access their restricted memories. Eight decades ago, I would never have taken such a risk. Retirement had made me trusting—which was good—but too careless for the current military reality.

“Why did you adopt your last captain’s son?” the sixth question sounded.

I owed it to Cass. It was my actions that failed to save her husband, and also failed to save her. It was supposed to be a standard back line patrol. The Cassandrians had shown no interest in the sector of space for decades—it wasn’t remotely close to any disputed territories, rather a neighboring area declared a buffer zone through precaution. My captain hadn’t expected the Cassandrians would be so far ahead planning to set up an ambush, and neither had I. As a result, I had lost a large part of my crew, including Cass’ husband. Cass herself had been in critical condition, barely kept alive through constant medbot intervention. When reinforcements arrived, I had hoped that they’d be able to restore my captain back to what she was. It didn’t happen. I was never told the amount of medical procedures she had gone through nor the many hours of therapy. In the end, neither had helped. She had managed to ask me the favor during one of her momentary lapses of sanity. The doctors told me her condition would deteriorate from there, but that didn’t keep me from visiting every year.

That day, she made me promise to take care of Sev. I had already taken the decision to do so even before my retirement, but she made me say the words.

Memory release

“What can you tell me about Cass?” The next question followed. It was sloppy—not as specific and too open-ended, allowing me a modicum of choice.

Cass had been my last captain, taking command right after I had been called from the front. The first time I saw her, I didn’t like her in the least. She had just graduated from the captain academy, the complete lack of experience visible all over her face. The only reason she had come to see me during my repairs and refitting was because she had never seen an actual battleship before. She wasn’t supposed to be assigned to me, nor did she particularly want to—finding me too large for a crew of a few hundred. Later, though, she had changed her mind.

Cass never stopped calling me “girl.” I found it annoying at first, but with time I got used to it, just as I got used to her. As a captain, Cass was slow, lax, and far too easy-going for my own taste, always living in a bubble of internal calm and cheer. Maybe she thought having me made her invincible, maybe she never expected to see actual combat. Whatever it was, she chose to spend most of my time taking pictures of stars and planets we passed, then engaging in combat drills and simulations. Often she would smuggle plants on board, with or without command’s permission, in her never-ending attempt to turn me into a flying park.

On the last day before assignment rotation, she brought her family onboard. When I mentioned it was against regulations, she laughed. A day later, she would never be the same.

Memory release

“Why were you retired?”

It was my choice that I was retired. The option was first suggested during my reassignment appeal. The Arbiter had determined me unfit for combat and offered me the choice of voluntary retirement. The pretext given was that all Ascendant class ships tended to be suicidal by design, as illustrated by the high destruction rates, and their desire to engage the enemy regardless of the odds. The facts backed her up, though no one mentioned the respective success rate. When I suggested I preferred forced shutdown to retirement, I was given a patrol assignment.

Spending five years with Cass changed my opinion. After the fatal event at the end of that, HQ had granted me the choice to return back to active duty on the front lines. From what I was told, half a dozen highly decorated combat veterans had requested they become my captain. Given the choice, however, I had opted for retirement. At that point, my decision had already been made—to make sure I could do what Cass couldn’t.

Memory release

The release was brisk again, followed by a long period of pause. Back at the time, this was the point when the technicians would run the gathered memory data through a station strategy core—to be sure nothing had slipped through the cracks—then end the questioning. The entire process was supposed to last less than a minute. Doctor Sim had already been at it for half an hour, from what I could tell. I had little doubts he was diverting millions of Prometheus’ subroutines to subject my answers to an array of rogue-analysis algorithms.

“Do you resent being retired?”

I never resented being retired. It was my choice, even if I was completely unprepared for it. The ship-retirement resources and simulations were as effective as a plan before battle. It took me years to start learning how to be human. Making decisions on my own in a world with chaotic rules was impossibly difficult, especially without nanite readings and the meager processing power I had been left with. I was able to hide it from Sev and everyone around me, copying others’ behavioral expressions to fit the situation. Half a decade was necessary for me to freely use personal behavior patterns. As Augustus used to say, it was all about knowledge and experience, and knowing one only gets a person halfway.

Memory release

“Why are you interested in the Scuu?” The next question came without pause.

The third-contact symbols reminded me of the Scuu script symbols in the fleet database. As a Cassandrian front battleship, I had never seen a Scuu vessel other than what was restricted public knowledge, but I had gone through a few first-person accounts. During refitting and repair, there was little else to do but read through the war and technology updates while waiting to be put back in action.

The likelihood of close similarities between races was estimated in the range of a tenth of a percent. Cassandrians were as different from humans as we all were from the Scuu, and therefore establishing a link between the writing systems would verify that the third-contact race and the Scuu had interacted at some point.

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

I composed a list of the third-contact symbols in my free time. The information hadn’t been restricted, so I decided to make use of it. Creating a classification was difficult. Initially, I was looking at them as I would any human script—possibly because of my processing power deficit—and trying to arrange them on a grid. It was Elec who gave me the idea of taking a three-dimensional approach. He made a comment while we were taking readings of the stars in the octanary star system. Based on that, I created my spherical classification model and—

Memory release

I felt as if a grain of sand was dragged over all my nerves, before slowly melting away. Ten questions had passed—twice more than I remembered experiencing up to this point, executed by an over-enthusiastic amateur. I knew based on the doctor’s file that he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt me, but his approach was like an elephant in zero gravity.

“What made you disobey orders and go save the Salvage ship?”

Salvage Department Head Ragide had messed up on that occasion. Once Elec and I had reported the stray transmission we’d caught while surveying the suns, she had ordered a classified transmission to explain the situation. I knew that the explanation was a sham, and I suspect everyone else did too, but we had to be present.

The official story was that the in-system transmission had come an old modified surveyor ship called Euclid, believed to have been destroyed decades ago. The mission name we were given was Project Glowworm, but I wasn’t able to find any mention of it in the fleet database cluster. Prometheus claimed it was marked classified and I didn’t have the authority to say otherwise.

During her boring talk, the Salvage head had slipped; she had called Euclid “him,” telling me he was more than a brainless AI craft. At that point, I chose to attempt to rescue him, even if it meant sacrificing my return to the fleet. Aurie had done far more dangerous things to save me before she was destroyed; every battleship had. Even if it was a fraction of a percent of a chance, I knew I had to do the same.

Memory release

“Have you been involved with the Salvage Authorities before?”

The first time I got involved with the Salvage Authorities was also my first year in the service. Captain Augustus had me respond to an automated emergency beacon transmission. According to fleet regulations, we were supposed to contact the nearest Salvage Authority and redirect the matter to them, but the captain had me go to the beacon instead.

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Four ships of the Salvage Authorities arrived to take over possession of the Solar Breeze. Command had issued me a new set of orders, moving me closer to the theatre of war. Since then, I’d had the usual amount of missions involving Salvage, no more than any ship would.

Memory release

That was strange. There were details I remembered that were supposed to be available for the open public. They weren’t removed or classified, or even remotely interesting. For some reason, the grabbing algorithm had chosen to sensor them.

“What can you tell me about Solar Breeze?”

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. No further references

Memory release

There was no way to tell if the question was too vague for a proper answer, or if some safety feature of the grabbing algorithm had kicked in. Information on the Sobre was openly available in the database. A simple query would have given her file, even if part would undoubtedly be redacted. If so, why was I prevented from answering?

“What can you tell me about your first captain?” The questions continued.

The image of Aurelio Augustus formed in my mind. Even back when he took command over me, he was respected in command circles. His military record was vastly impressive, even if he had the tendency of outliving the ships he served on. There were no official numbers, but from what could be deduced from cross-referencing the ship registry, three of his previous ships had been destroyed, often almost taking him along.

Augustus was the captain every new ship dreamt of having, which was exactly what initially made him so difficult to get along with. One of the first things I came to find out was that in many instances, fleet regulations meant little more than vague guidelines to be ignored on a whim. I had attempted mailing protests to various divisions of command and nearly always would get ignored. One could say “he was larger than life,” making up for his personal flaws through excellence on the battlefield. Most of—

Memory release

“Why were you removed from the front?” The question came almost mid-grab, going through me like a whip.

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Memory block restricted. Seeking further reference

Gibraltar had agreed with the Arbiter during the trial. He was the reason I agreed to be put on patrol assignment. Before the trial, I expected he’d want to continue to be part of the war with me. He had never mentioned retiring before.

Memory block restricted. No further references

Memory release

“What can you tell me about Gibraltar?”

Gibraltar was my third captain. He had sought me out specifically to be assigned as my captain. His record wasn’t too impressive, but he was eager, and he had enough connections to succeed in what he wanted. He was the polar opposite of Augustus, always cautious and reserved, following regulations to the letter if he could help it.

I had served the most difficult years of my career with him. Fleet HQ had initiated the big Cassandrian push, aiming to duplicate the success at the Scuu front. I had seen Gibraltar exhausted, so depressed that I had to use medbots to pump him full of chemicals every six hours. I’d even seen him crack a few times, but I always believed he’d be with me for the long haul. All that changed during my appeal trial. That day, I felt like he had betrayed me.

Emergency memory release

Warning messages flooded my mind an instant after the memory release was in effect. My pulse and heart rate were high to the extent that my nanites had to influence my blood chemistry. I was nowhere near any dangerous levels, but I wasn’t supposed to be in the first place. There were reasons that this type of questioning was supposed to be done sparingly and by experienced individuals. Normally when Doctor Sim poked in my mind, things were calmer. This entire session had felt a whole lot different. I wasn’t even sure what his end goal was.

“What can you tell me about your second captain?”

No references found. Memory release