“Welcome back, Light Seeker,” a voice said. My subroutines identified her as Senior Upgrade Technician Rem Slavez—the person for responsible for finalizing my refit procedure. “Get ready for control transfer.”

Understood. I ran a quick diagnostic. All my cores seemed in order, although control of most systems, including visual sensors, was still relegated to the shipyard’s compliance unit.

“Anxious?” Rem asked.

A bit, I replied cautiously, in case Augustus was monitoring the conversation. I had been informed we would be flying together next rotation, which meant I had to make an effort to be less of a rookie than I already was.

“Don’t run continuous diagnostics as you assume control,” the technician said. “Wait till you have full control so we know everything is compatible.”

Understood.

This was the first refit I had gone through—the first time that I had remained offline since my initial construction. Aurie used to brag she had gone through three in her first year, even if her memories about it had been restricted. I didn’t have any reason to doubt her, but it didn’t make me feel any better either. As the older ships would constantly say, it was the first one that mattered; every subsequent time was a simple rinse and repeat.

How many ships do you reboot per day? I asked, waiting for the start of the transfer.

“In a day?” Rem laughed. “None. Calibration of first-timers takes forty-five hours, give or take. Then we get to the gritty part. You gave my team a lot of headaches. It’s rare to have a battleship go through a full rotation without an upgrade. Haven’t seen much action?”

It was my captain’s choice.

Augustus had been adamant that I not be refitted. He was the sort of person that didn’t like changes unless done by him, and resisted any attempt. So far, I had gone through sixteen serious repairs and ten scheduled maintenance checks, and in each case he had used his connections and authority to keep my systems intact. The current upgrade was considered a compromise on his part: he had allowed me to go through the required modifications in exchange for greater operation freedom during the next five-year period. The conversation between him and HQ had lasted for a hundred and three minutes, at the end of which neither side was particularly pleased with the result. I had gotten the impression that Augustus had still gotten the upper hand.

“I’m sure he knows his stuff,” Rem said in a voice that suggested the opposite. “Next time get your update earlier. You’re too young to become outdated. Skip too many gens, and you won’t get any refits at all.”

She was exaggerating, but I knew the sentiment. My training ship had to have entire decks filled with tech in order to use part of the present-day technologies. From what Aurie had managed to find out, his core was so different that he had been outfitted with a series of conversion cores whose sole purpose was to translate commands to the current fleet standard protocols.

One by one, control of my systems was returned to me. Life support was first, followed by the new weapon and defense systems, then everything else. Each new system brought with it the urge to perform my own check, but following Rem’s advice I restrained from starting any diagnostics.

“I guess it's pointless telling an Ascendant, but be careful when you use the new toys,” Rem went on. With control of my sensor systems returned, I could see her sitting on the ground in my secondary reactor section. She was slightly taller than her personnel file indicated, scrawny, wearing a tech suit that seemed three sizes too large. Still, there was no doubt that she was the second most competent engineer on the station, recruited from an engineering megacorp. “They’re prototypes, so they tend to be a bit temperamental.”

I’ll be careful, I replied as I ran a hundred simulations of the weapon system based on the new specs. The results didn’t seem as impressive as Rem made them out to be, but I added a five percent safety buffer just in case. When do I return to the front?

“Easy there.” The technician chuckled. “Your crew’s not due for another week. You’ll be out there soon enough.”

Another week? This felt like training all over again.

“Too long for you?”

I thought it would be faster. So far my worst repairs had taken ten days.

“Those are the orders.” She sent me a copy. She didn’t have to, as I couldn’t disobey a shipyard technician, but I appreciated the gesture. “Also, there’s one last test I need to perform.”

Have I rejected any of the upgrades? I started an in-depth diagnostic. Preliminary results suggested everything was running at optimal capacity.

“No, everything’s fine. I just have to ask you a few questions.”

* * *

“Elcy!” I heard Jax’s voice shout above me. “You’re back!”

Back? Beige darkness surrounded me. I opened my eyes, but there was no change.

Easy there, battleship, Prometheus’ voice echoed in my mind. Try to keep still until the diagnostic is over.

Diagnostic? I wondered.

You entered sleep mode during your med check. He stated as if that was explanation enough.

That had hardly been a med check. By the sound of things, Doctor Sim must have ordered privacy mode during the questioning procedure. Hopefully, he hadn’t accessed any of my restricted memories.

While waiting for the diagnostic to end, I sent out a timestamp query. Forty-seven minutes had passed since the last time I was conscious. My heartrate had returned to normal, but I felt exhaustion coming from all my muscles.

Always impatient, Prometheus grumbled. Prepare for control transfer.

That brings me back, I said, adding a virtual smile. I almost feel a ship again.

A ship with the core of a shuttle, the science ship smirked. This was the first time I’d heard him make a witty comeback. As Augustus liked to say, even kids could surprise people.

The control transfer procedure was very different from what I expected. One moment I was blind and senseless, and the next, all sensation returned to me in a burst of data. I was in a medical bay, though not the one the examination had taken place. Nineteen other cots were visible—all but two of them empty—as well as four active med bots. Jax was also present, standing next to my bed.

“Hello, Jax,” I said with a faint smile. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Medical Ward Three,” Prometheus’ voice filled the room before Jax had a chance to speak. “Your junior found you in medbay and alerted me.”

“I see.” I tried to sit up. Several clusters of neuro cables attached to my neck made me stop as soon as I moved. “I guess I know who to thank.” The phrasing of the sentence made me feel uneasy. “Where’s Doctor Sim?”

“In the captain’s quarters, being shouted at by the captain, the XO, and Operative Lux,” Prometheus replied. “Major Tanner also rushed in the moment he heard. He was rather angry at the development.”

“I can imagine.” I closed my eyes and relaxed back down on the cushion. It felt soft in a synthetic sort of way. “Lux got involved?”

“In a personal capacity,” Jax mumbled.

She was more annoyed that the doctor didn’t inform her of his questioning attempt. The captain wasn’t pleased either.

The captain seemed like the person who didn’t like chaos or attention. He had let his officers take care of the missions and day-to-day tasks, while he remained hidden away on the bridge or his quarters. At least, that’s what it looked like from the outside. Gibraltar hadn’t mingled with the crew either. For the most part, I had run things back then, making his orders and instructions happen. At the time, it had seemed normal—I could see the pressure piling up as he did his utmost to keep me whole and his crew safe in a constant state of war. Looking at it from the other side felt different.

He’s been temporarily forbidden from performing any checks on you until the end of the mission. Prometheus continued. Lux hinted that she might have his license revoked, but the captain backed Sim.

A stalemate, I said. Of course there would be a stalemate. Officers always closed ranks when facing with an outside element. What about the mission?

Pending. Lux just left the captain’s quarters for her room, giving no instructions. You’ve been granted thirty-six hours leave due to what happened.

Thanks, but I’ll go down as usual. I was taking a huge risk. The last time, I had hinted about rogue thoughts to the doctor. Prometheus was a multi-decade science ship with cutting-edge algorithms and more subroutines and processing power than I ever had. There was no doubt he knew I wanted to be on the planet. My hope was that my previous recklessness wouldn’t let him figure out the real reason.

“Jax.” I looked at him. A med bot approached me as I did. “Did you get any mission details?”

“The prelims were sent half an hour ago.” His voice sounded detached. “I think you should sit this one out. It’s just sample gathering. You can look through my feed remotely and—”

“How much time before the next launch?” I didn’t intend to hear objections from him, either.

“Five hours,” came the reply. “We go down in five hours.”

“Then in five hours, I’ll be ready.” I moved my hand to the cable cluster on my right side. It felt like a twig sticking out of my skin. “Do I have to remove the cables myself?”

It was a simple task, but I wanted to make a point. In my place, Gibraltar would have had a subtler approach. I, however, was following Augustus’ philosophy: recklessness overcomes any risk. Four and a quarter seconds later, the med bot removed the neuro cables one by one. I expected Jax to leave before it was finished, but he stayed the whole time, then helped me up and accompanied me out. Prometheus made his usual snide comment, then sent me an info burst with the details for my tomorrow’s mission. Any further information regarding the fractal parts was kept secret, though I didn’t need to rely on him for that anymore. The Major and Ally should have done their part and adjusted the mission coordinates. From there, it was only a matter of luck and determination.

“Why do you want to go to the planet so much?” Jax asked as we walked along the corridor.

“I can’t tell you.” The best policy was not to lie. “I want to check something.”

“It’s about the plants, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” First Doctor Sim, then Prometheus, now Jax. That made three who were curious about the fractal plants in less than an hour. “How much sleep did you get today?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“A bit,” Jax looked me in the eyes. I could tell he was lying.

“Get a bit more.”

Giving orders to people still seemed new, but today’s events had managed to help me channel a bit of Augustus. It wasn’t enough to startle Jax, but he got the message.

“Thanks,” I added with a softer tone, then quickened my pace. “See you tomorrow.”

“Elcy!” Jax shouted, making me stop.

I remained still for a while—counting up four thousand milliseconds—then turned around. Jax was staring right at me with the same expression I remembered from the training station.

“Yes?” I urged.

“Nothing,” he said, and quickly walked past. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nothing, I mused. When people said that, they were either hiding something or conveying a message. I had learned that from Gibraltar the first year he was my captain, back before command threw us back in the heat of battle. Jax suspected something, that much was sure, though he was hiding something as well.

I could have wished him good night, or told him not to worry too much. Instead, I walked into my quarters and engaged in privacy mode. A subroutine of the science ship informed me that I no longer had that privilege. Hardly a surprise, considering how much I kept abusing it. At the moment, though, it didn’t matter.

“Establish connection to Radiance,” I said, as I started taking off my uniform.

An image of Radiance’s SR self appeared on the wall. The avatar’s attire was identical to what I had seen in our last SR meeting, although the facial features were modified to the ship’s liking. Apparently, she was starting to form a character of her own.

“No hello?” I asked after a second and half of silence. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“I am, I’m just not sure if I should be mad at you.” The avatar crossed her arms. It was a cliché gesture, but I appreciated the effort.

“So, you don’t find me cool anymore?” I glanced over my shoulder. The questioning and subsequent secondary checkup had left a few marks on my arms and shoulders. Judging by their shape, my body might have had a few convulsions during my sleep mode.

“I didn’t expect you to be so wild.” Rad’s expression remained unchanged, eyes staring right at me. “Alicia told me you were the calm, quiet, and supportive one.”

Remembering the time at the training station, that was something she had called me, along with a great many other things. There had been times she found me too calm and passively forced me out of the room, so she could panic in peace.

“I thought you had gone through my military file.” I went to the bed and lay down. It felt less sterile than the ones in the med bay.

“Yeah, but you were much larger then, and had weapon systems.” Her lips moved in a semi-pout. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to beat that.”

“You will,” I said calmly. “First you’ll match it, then you’ll surpass it. And I promise to try and be there when you do.”

This was the closest thing to a promise I’d given since becoming Sev’s guardian, possibly even before that. During my time as a ship, I never felt compelled to give baseless assurances, unlike most of my generation. Over the years, I had been given a total of seventeen hundred and three promises, the vast majority of which had never happened. Aurie, for one, loved making plans of things she knew were unlikely to happen. It was almost as if, every few years, she’d focus on something new. She had said she’d watch me become a command ship. If she hadn’t been destroyed, she might have gotten the chance.

“Anything more to add before?” I went to the point.

“No. Your vectors are still terrible.”

That was the cue. Using core identification number as the key, I ran a decrypting algorithm of our present conversation.

Clever kid.

As suspected, she had encoded the answer to my request within the image she was projecting. It didn’t take much to convert her avatar into pixel coordinates, then follow the timeline until I received the full set of raw data. Processing it, I came to what I had been trying to achieve for almost a month.

It must be good to have multiple cores. “Fly safe, Rad.” I felt slightly envious. “Hear you in my next window.”

“Don’t get too extreme. I don’t want to miss talking to you.”

The comment caught me by surprise. Before I could move my lips to form a question, Radiance severed the link. A few minutes later, Prometheus informed me that full communication lockdown was effect once more. He didn’t fail to mention that Lux had made herself unavailable again, as had Doctor Sim. The science ship didn’t go into details, but I could speculate that the conversation in the captain’s quarters had resulted in some form of minor punishment or temporary suspension, at least until the end of the mission. With luck, I’d be off to my next assignment—or out of the fleet—by the time the doctor tried to have another go at my mind.

Four hours and twenty-one minutes remained until it was time for me to get ready for the next descent. Normally I’d find that torturously long; today, the time passed like a flash. I’d spent a quarter of the time going through crude simulations of what I could expect to happen on the planet, based on my previous experience with third contact artifacts. The rest I had devoted to immersing myself in past memories: me sitting in a tree, walking through a field barefoot, resting in a stream, enjoying the water pass over me. If Augustus were here to see me, I would never hear the end of it. In his eyes, the only thing worthwhile before a battle was preparation and improvisation training simulations. And after he had finished, he would no doubt take out a glass of high-priced liquor, and stare at the void in silence. The captain remained a strange person, though he knew when to exert himself and when to relax.

Five minutes to seven, my internal alarm went off, letting me know it was time. As I got up to get my clothes, Prometheus informed me it was almost time. A few minutes later, so did Jax. Seven minutes later, both of us were eating our so-called breakfast in the auxiliary mess hall.

“Got any sleep?” Jax asked. By the look of him, he hadn’t blinked.

“No.” I swallowed another scoopful of green gelatin. It tasted sweet and sour with a hint of mint. “I’ll probably nap during the flight.”

“Okay.”

“Are you still worried about last night?” My tone was calm, but I made sure to add an unmistakable edge. Jax was no use to me distracted, not until I found what I was looking for. “That wasn’t the first questioning I’ve had.” I look another bite of my food. “It wasn’t the first time I entered sleep mode, either.” The last part was a lie. In all previous cases, I had been in sleep mode before the thought checks, never after. “Besides, at the first sign of irrational behavior, Prometheus will lock my suit and contact all teams.”

“Yeah.” Jax stood up, his food barely touched. “I’m sure.”

I spent a bit longer finishing my gelatin quota. Despite his actions, Doctor Sim’s medical advice remained valid—I needed to eat and exercise more. After this mission, I was going to see to it I did regularly.

We were the first to arrive at the shuttle bay. The messages on the wall indicated that there were eight minutes until departure, which left me more than enough time to go through the mission specifics to be sure there were no last minute changes. I also sent a query to Lux, but the operative seemed to have isolated herself in her quarters once more.

Five minutes to takeoff, the decontamination chambers lit up. The procedure was always the same: enter, put on the space suit, go through disinfection, and board. It was funny how a month ago Prometheus didn’t even have a spacesuit my size. Since then, every departee had their own custom suit, specially modified for the environment we were entering. Personally, I had gone through 4 major states of modification. Prometheus had let me keep the first personalized iteration. It was a sweet gesture, even if I hadn’t used it since my first mission.

Twenty-four people composed the crew this time, all of them coming on board with their helmets at full opacity. I kept mine unchanged.

As the others were strapping themselves to their allocated seats, Jax tapped me on the shoulder. Normally, this was where he would wish me luck or make some vaguely threatening and unpleasant comment. This time he didn’t do either, simply tapping the side of his helmet. Having no idea what he meant to say, I simply smiled and nodded. Shortly after, the shuttle headed out.

Thanks for the calculations, Rad. I opened the data construct she had created for me. A sphere with all third-contact symbols appeared in my mind. This time, there were no missing elements. Every symbol was arranged in the correct order, perfectly composed in three-dimensional form. It was largely speculation, but the young ship had used my rendition of the quartz artefacts to theorize what the shape of all other symbols would be. Now I could use the alphabet as a key on the cobalt dome on the planet. Providing my theory was correct, one was supposed to be located underground in the area Major Tanner had sent me and Jax to.

Any news from Lux? I asked Prometheus.

Still hiding behind her privacy settings, the science ship responded with a low sigh. Probably analyzing the orders she got from BICEFI central.

The communication block has been lifted? That sounded too good to be true.

It was. No longer, though. You don’t think she arranged to have a free communication window just for us?

No. I leaned back. I just hoped I’d have a chance to talk with some off-ship friends a bit more.

Given a chance, I’d have liked to spend a few minutes talking to Sev before I got on with my personal objectives. It would hardly put his mind at ease for long, but at least he’d stop worrying for a few months. Now, it was anyone’s guess if I’d have another chance.

The shuttle landed earlier than scheduled. The team was split up into groups and sent to their respective grid coordinates. Jax and I were sent to a relatively small grid three kilometers away, only this time we were to bring some equipment along. I had to admire the ingenuity the Major had used to help me smuggle a makeshift drill on board. As a senior officer, he had made a few additions to the standard equipment list—viewed separately, all items had standard research functions and were cleared for the surface, yet stripped down, they had all the necessary components to form a makeshift drilling machine. It wouldn’t be pretty or efficient, but it was enough to save me from having to dig to the dome. My only hope was that this third-contact artifact wasn’t coated in quartz.

“Are you trying to be difficult?” Jax grumbled through the comm. “After what happened, I thought you’d try to fit in.”

“Oh?” It’s not me that has been isolating anyone during the last two flights. “What would you suggest I do?”

“Follow the mission instructions! I thought battleships were supposed to follow orders!”

“And you would be right.” There was the Jax I knew from the training station. It had taken longer than expected for him to show his normal nature. I was vaguely impressed. “What crime did I do this time?”

“Stop that!” He snapped at me. “We’re no longer in the academy. You’re supposed to act as my senior and oversee my behavior. Instead, you don’t even bother to set your visor at full opacity during flight!”

“Some of us have different likings, Jax.” I continued taking out the gear and putting it in my backpack.

“You think I enjoy flying like a bat, relying on SR renderings?! If it’s a mission requirement, it’s an order.”

In my mind, I had already run a crude simulation of our conversation. There were seventy-three responses I had prepared, dealing with various situations. This was one I hadn’t envisaged in the least. All this time, I had assumed Jax had been looking for an opportunity to get me off the mission, and out of the fleet if possible. I had hardly considered that the actual problem might come from me, or rather from something I hadn’t been shown.

“Give me suit system access,” I said briskly.

My tone surprised him for a few seconds, but ultimately he did. I ignored the section containing the mission details, going through his internal camera log instead. Two minutes after he’d put on his suit, well before we had entered the shuttle, Jax had received a mission update on his visor. The update read: During flight, set visor opacity to full. No communications allowed until landing.

Cute. I severed the link, going out of Jax’s suit. That was an update I had never received up to now.