When I was a ship, I couldn’t understand how people spent so much time in medbays, despite all the nanoshot cocktails my medbots pumped into them. Since I rejoined the fleet, I had spent a total of seventy-three hours and fifteen minutes in medical wards, not counting the time devoted to my obligatory checks. According to the med team on Leoforge, I was fortunate to have escaped with so little damage. I would have liked it better if they had shared what exactly the damage was, but the subject was deliberately avoided. The most information I was able to squeeze out of them was that I had gone through recreative surgery the last three days.

Initially, the doctors insisted I that remain in bed until the Prometheus arrived at the station. After I insisted they perform a few tests, they agreed to discharge me half an hour early; not the best outcome, but it gave me a chance to walk about and use the time to write a letter to Sev.

The more things change, the more they remain the same, I thought, taking out my new datapad. From what I was told, my old one had been damaged beyond repair and destroyed. I strongly doubted that to be the case, though I still missed it—it was one of the things I had gotten used to in the last few decades.

Quote:

Hi Sev,

Sorry for not writing in a while. A few things happened that I cannot talk about. Nothing dangerous, so don’t grind your teeth like you do when reading the news. I haven’t checked how much the fleet is sending you, but I doubt it’d be enough to get you a new set of teeth every two months.

They told me you were sick recently. I would have liked to be there, or even to speak with you, but you know how it goes. My life isn’t exactly my own now. I guess you knew that as well when you volunteered me. I do get to fly a lot, but chatting with ships… not so much. I did manage to float in space for a bit. No need to tell you that that made a lot of people upset.

I paused. The BICEFI hadn’t contacted me since the dome core incident. It would be naïve to think that they had saved me before continuing with their operations. Rather, I had likely been questioned, court-martialed, and had my memories extracted. The fact that I was standing here and not at an arbitration chamber meant that I wasn’t getting kicked out of the fleet. The third-contact symbols had been removed, though in such a way as to remind me what I had lost. A bit petty coming from the BICEFI, though entirely like Aquila.

Quote:

Things have calmed down now, at least for a while. That means if my captain doesn’t kick me back to a refresher at the academy, I’ll be getting my next assignment. Hopefully it’ll be something that gives me more free time.

Be well.

I put the datapad on the bench beside me and looked around. The small station garden couldn’t compare to what I had recently seen—it was little more than a patch of green in the middle of a giant bubble of glass and steel alloys, barely capable of holding a few dozen people. Tourists, ship personnel, station staff, and corporate researchers rushed past, hardly slowing to enjoy the sight. I was certain that they had more pressing and important tasks to do and, at the same time, knew how much they were missing. It reminded me of my last tour as a ship. Cass would often tell me I needed to appreciate the scenery more. A pity she never got to see this side of me.

One of these days you’ll run out of luck, I heard Prometheus in my core. Not that I expect you to care, being a battleship.

You know me too well. I sent a virtual smile. How are things on your end?

Yes, you got us in a lot of trouble, again. Prometheus said sharply. With the BICEFI off our back, the captain no longer cares. It helped that this time we got to keep our finds.

That was a nice touch, considering they didn’t have to. The unexpected find must have made them an iota more generous, to the point that they let us keep the scraps.

How’s the XO? I went for the painful question.

Still wants to fire you off into space without a spacesuit, though also pleased that you got Lux offboard.

Hardly a surprise. Aquila tended to brush people the wrong way. Her sarcasm was levels above the range of most people, especially the militarily inclined.

He was relieved when we heard you hadn’t died, Prometheus went on. I could tell he wasn’t used to the notion. Like all ships, it was his nature to feel responsible to his crew; unlike a battleship, he wasn’t used to seeing massive numbers of them dying every mission. Major Tanner had to be treated for ulcers.

I’ll be sure to apologize. Poor Major. He was a nervous wreck before I started the missions. It was difficult to imagine to what state he had driven himself to as news of my latest disobedience had leaked through. Doctor Sim must have had a field day. Is Jax alright?

He’s a bit shaken. Prometheus paused, making me think there was a bit more to it than that. The BICEFI didn’t charge him with anything, but the XO gave him a reprimand. It’ll take some work for him to make up for that.

He’ll be fine. Back at the recruitment centre, he was the only one I was confident would make it into the program. He had gone through a lot to earn his spot in the top percentage of cadets, and he would do just as much to beat the odds and clear his record. Regardless, I owed him, and a ship always kept its promises. I’m off to decontamination. See you in a bit.

A non-combat expedited decontamination procedure usually took about fifteen minutes. I was cleared in two: one to move me to the front of the line, and one more to deal with the bureaucracy. By the time Prometheus’ shuttle had arrived, I had been waiting for twenty-three minutes, going through my memories of the last three months. Each review seemed absolutely ordinary: one long string of chronologically arranged data with two missing snippets. I knew that I had spent days researching the third-contact script, but as much as I tried, I couldn’t visualise any of it.

The shuttle trip was quiet. The pilot, usually brimming with crude jokes, didn’t say a word the entire time. For once, I chose to respect the silence as well. Prometheus kept talking to me, getting me up to date with the latest developments. Most of the things didn’t concern me directly, but were good to know. Most notably, everyone on board was awarded a one week leave for our assistance in the mission. As strange as it was, I was also included in that group.

Doctor Sim was the first person to greet me aboard. There was enough history between us to keep him from ever trusting me completely, though recent events seemed to have mellowed him enough to do his duty without invading my core. We exchanged a few words—the usual check up questions—as I was escorted to the medbay for my final medical. The test was brief and showed that the BICEFI had done a remarkable job of restoring me. Latest incident aside, my bone mass had risen to ten percent above average, and my nanites were upgraded to a version that wasn’t supposed to be released for mass use for the next three months.

“The team doing okay?” I asked as I started putting on my uniform.

“Mass relief.” The doctor smiled. “For the most part. There were a few issues here and there. A hundred and twenty people requested emergency transfer after our latest mission. Seems you made quite the impression, enough to make them think this sort of thing is normal. Not a bad thing, overall.”

“It’s always better to flush out the useless.” The fleet used to follow that principle a lot when I was active. Lately, they were starting to follow it again. “I’m glad to have been of assistance.”

“A good sense of humor,” Doctor Sim said, as he filled in his report. “I hope your next med officer is as appreciative as me. Humor is like a weapon system—not all fleet ships have it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” I straightened my uniform. Somehow, I felt it looked strange on me. A bit more color would have been nice. “Do you still have concerns about me?”

Doctor Sim stopped typing, then looked at me over his shoulder. His facial expression was complex, making it difficult to determine his emotions. Without a doubt, he had gone through several sources of expression control—enough to make me wonder if he had been in any special operations.

“Concerns always remain, princess.” His lips curved in a thin smile. “I was told in no uncertain terms to let the matter go, and yet…” He waved his hand. “The only thing I can tell you is that life is too short to waste, even for you. Keep staying out of trouble and do what you think is useful for the fleet, and maybe we’ll never have to find out.”

The statement wasn’t as reassuring as I had hoped, but clear enough to let me know I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder as far as he was concerned. There was no doubt he’d add a few comments to my personnel file. After my transfer, though, I’d be someone else’s problem.

Leaving the medbay, I went directly to my quarters. No one avoided me as I walked through the corridors, and no one greeted me either. For a moment, I almost felt as if I were just a cadet. As I approached my quarters, a sense of nostalgia swept over me. When I first came aboard, there had been two other cadets: Elec and Shiala. Elec’s quarters—briefly occupied by Aquila—were now empty, awaiting the next series of cadets. Jax was to stay a few more months in Shiala’s, while being given the dubious honor of earning the title of senior cadet.

He’s not there, Prometheus said when I approached Jax’s door.

“I thought he wouldn’t be.” I stopped in front of the door, looking blankly forward. People always change after their first field experience, even when there’s no combat involved…

* * *

“Shuttle one-zero-point-zero, on approach vector, preparing to dock,” came the transmission. “ETA two minutes.”

“Shuttle bay is ready,” I replied. “Have crew prepare for full decontamination and medical.”

The pilot went on to provide crew status details, as per procedure. I had a dozen of my subroutines handle the procedure, then focused on more important things. This was the first rescue assistance mission I was part of, and unlike everything I’d experienced in training simulations, it seemed utterly useless. We were the third ship to respond to the evacuation request, which normally should have been declined for redundancy reasons, but my captain had insisted I take part. As a result I was assigned to receive all low-urgency survivors and isolate part of the thirty-ninth deck for them until reaching the nearest military station.

Forty-seven new life streams connected to my system, all of them conveying health and nanite readings. As expected, other than their high stress levels, everything else was in perfect order. None had suffered any cuts, bruises, or other physically traumatic experiences. For all intents and purposes, the squad was fit to be sent out for another mission.

“Docking procedure to start within the minute, Captain,” I told Augustus. The man nodded in confirmation, eyes glued on his personal screen. “Their temporary living quarters have been prepared and assigned,” I went on, hoping to get a reaction.

“Free the whole deck,” Augustus ordered. ”Only bridge crew and senior security staff have free access.”

“That is very irregular, sir.” I went through my database, trying to find a reason for such an order.

Technically, the captain was within his right, though that still didn’t provide any explanation. Giving a whole deck to forty-seven ground troopers was a complete waste of space, not to mention that none of them needed it. According to their video logs, they hadn’t been remotely close to the action, only witnessed the battle from a distance. All visual and audio information regarding their enemies had been censured, but even so, I knew that the planet was full of Cassandrian troops, following a bitter contest of the star system. Based on the official reports, the sector had been won three weeks ago, though mopping up remaining Cassandrian troops had proven to take longer than expected.

“Might I suggest that we keep them confined to a portion of the deck?” I proposed.

“I’m not in the mood, rookie,” Augustus grumbled. “Entire deck! And have med bots ready.”

“Understood, captain.” I had fifty of my subroutines take care of it.

As the shuttle docked, I checked and rechecked the arrivals’ files. There wasn’t the slightest hint of irregularities, just an ordinary group of soldiers on their first tour in space. All had been freshly scooped from training bases, with half of them not yet having spent a full month in space. No one had distinguished themselves in any way, nor did they come from an atypical planet. From front line reports I had seen, it was common for soldiers to get torn to bits during combat, or die in any of the hundred and three ways classified since the start of the war campaign.

“Might I ask why these soldiers are getting special treatment, sir?” I asked. “There’s no indication they are injured. If they’re incapable of handling the pressure, they have no place in the fleet.”

“One more stupid comment and I’ll mute you, rookie!” Augustus snapped. “Just do as you’re told!”

I didn’t say a word, mailing a video of the event along with a protest letter to HQ. I had no doubt it would be ignored like all my previous comments, but I still wanted it on record.

“It’s the numbers,” Wilco whispered, clearly addressing me. “We have enough losses to cast out the healthy ones.”

If they’re healthy, why the special treatment? I asked directly in his comm.

“Because we need to make sure they don’t shatter,” came the reply. “Everyone changes after their first time. Knowing they have makes them reliable.”

The way he said it made me wonder if he had gone through the same on his first time.

“It’s the same with ships.” Wilco leaned back in his chair. “If we changed ships every time they did something stupid, we’d be stuck with rookies who aren’t worth a damn.”

* * *

Stuck with rookies who aren’t worth a damn.

That was an interesting way of putting it, and the best explanation I could hope for. That was the reason Augustus had tolerated my questions and constant protests. Maybe it was the same reason that the BICEFI had closed their eyes this time as well. A lot of things had changed since I had joined the recruitment center. Three missions on a science ship… for someone who measured time in milliseconds, they seemed like an eternity. So far, I’d had more low points than high, but—as Augustus liked to say-I was still here.

My room had remained untouched since I had last left it. My clothes and personal belongings were there, with the exception of the spacesuit I had worn during the last descent—that was probably classified away in a BICEFI lab somewhere awaiting analysis. The sandals were the first thing that caught my attention. I had barely used them since I had come aboard. They still acted as a reminder of home, though.

“Personal mode,” I said, sliding my hand over a sandal. It felt strangely warm, contrasting with all the cold alloys that surrounded me. “Display symbols.”

“Your request cannot be executed,” the lifeless voice of a subroutine informed me. “All personal memories have been deleted.”

The BICEFI had been thorough as usual.

“Show me a star system, then.” I lay on my bed. “Something with a lot of suns.”

A star system appeared, though not the one I had visited. There were three stars in total, orbiting around one another with a tiny cluster of smaller planets further away. Not a place I had seen, but it was good enough to look at and think upon.

You have been ordered to the bridge. A red message appeared on the ceiling, breaking my temporary serenity.

“XO’s orders?” I stretched. He seemed almost as fast as the BICEFI.

“Captain’s,” Prometheus corrected. “Try to be presentable.”

“Yes, sir.” It’s the least I could do, everything considered. “Formal uniform it is.”

The silence told me the notion was approved. I knew exactly what was going on: back when I was a ship, I had gone through this hundreds of times. There were only two main reasons a low-ranking officer would be invited to the bridge: to receive the first debriefing, and the last. It was considered more tradition than procedure. Augustus used to keep it short and to the point, Gibraltar always held a long well-prepared speech, and Cass… she considered everything one big party.

Looks like it’s one last walk around the garden, Sev. I looked at my uniforms. Each of them was identical to the next, none particularly formal. After a quick inspection I decided to go into a fresh one: it was slightly less wrinkled than the one I was wearing, even if it smelled rather sterile.

The lift was waiting for me when I reached it. Stepping in, it started on its own, taking me to my destination.

I didn’t know battleships could get tense, Prometheus smirked.

“We can,” I replied. “But I’m not right now.” I was slightly sad. My first mission had come to a close. It was a sloppy mission, without a doubt, and that’s what had made it so special. In a week at most, all of the people I’d talked with, everyone I’d seen walking by the corridors, working in the labs, or eating in the mess hall would be gone, off to a new mission I knew nothing about. I was going to miss that.

You’re still arrogant and reckless, Prometheus said. I suppose that’s due to your class, in part. It’s guaranteed I’ll never be trusting you with anything ever again. Still, I’d have liked to have seen you in action back when you were in your original husk. It must have been something.

“It was.” I smiled. The door of the elevator opened, opening my path to the main bridge corridor. “Just remember.” I stepped out. “The thing about antiques is that they always seem much more awesome than they were.”

There were two-hundred and seventy-six steps from the elevator point to the bridge door. I could hear them echo all the way. Upon reaching it, I stopped. Sev used to do the same when he was nervous, most often after getting in trouble. Up to a point, I understood him.

Do I do the honors? I asked Prometheus.

Instead of an answer, the doors moved aside, revealing a full view of the bridge. Initially, I expected to see the key staff: the captain, the XO, some senior officers, possibly Doctor Sim and Major Tanner. I was wrong. The entire space was packed to the brim. Jax and Ally were there, along with every science lead and lab assistant I had exchanged a few words with during my stay.

“Glad you finally made it, cadet,” the captain said. I could feel a note of sarcasm in his tone. “We feared you might have been reassigned to an unspecified location.”

“I doubt the BICEFI could stomach me for long, sir,” I attempted a humorous response. A few reactions suggested it wasn’t a total disaster.

“Well, as you might remember, there is a tradition that upon leaving, the senior cadet holds a small farewell party to mark the successful end of a mission and the start of a new one,” the captain went on. “Normally it’s not our job to organize the event. However, circumstances being as they were…”

“We didn’t want the risk of you messing this up,” Major Tanner shouted from the crowd. He seemed a lot better than I expected him to be. Hushed laughter followed.

“There’s also that.” The captain shook his head, trying to hide his amusement. “The fact is that, despite all your issues and the occasional disregard of instructions, you did quite a lot for our missions. It’s not every day that we get a century-old cadet willing to give her life so we could achieve a goal.”

There was a wave of whispers. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t tell if that part was a joke or not. I clapped politely nonetheless.

“It was your habits that helped establish a cold third-contact,” the captain continued. “A scary first for everyone here, although we’ve gotten used to it ever since.”

A new wave of hushed laughter filled the bridge. Gibraltar would have done a much better show, but I still appreciated the gesture. Looking to the side, I glanced at Ally. She seemed slightly uncomfortable being here. When she saw me, she smiled. There was no way of knowing if things were looking up for her, but at least she had her confirmation. The artifact pattern couldn’t have happened by accident. Whether or not she was allowed to pursue that was irrelevant. As psychologists liked to say, she had received confirmation closure.

“And as is the tradition, I’ll let Elcy’s direct superior do the final honors,” the captain said. “Major Tanner, if you will.”

There was some shuffling as the major made his way through the bridge to the captain’s chair at the center. I tried to catch a glimpse of Jax as Tanner shoved his way forward. There was no sight of the cadet, probably hidden by the crush of bodies.

“Thank you, captain.” The major finally reached the spot. “It’s been no fun trying to right that one, that’s for sure.” More laughter followed, far more natural than before. “Trying to get a battleship to follow a lead, even in the body of a cadet, is like dragging an elephant through a mirror maze: you’re never sure who’s leading who, and it’s inevitable that you’ll need a bucket of glue to piece together things once you’re done. Anything to say about that, cadet?”

“Nothing, sir.” I straightened up. “Though, it’s said that glue makes for strong bonds.”

The amount of laughter was larger than expected.

“Typical,” the Major sighed. ”You’re still a pain, Elcy, but I’ll miss seeing you go.” He put his hand in his pocket and took out a small black coin. Looking closer, I started distinguishing cyan-green lines on the surface. For the first time in my life, I was looking at a ghost medal.

The official name was File Only Service Medal; its entire purpose was to remain redacted on a person’s record, invisible to any but high-clearance officers and bureaucrats. This was much more than a commendation; it was recognition almost equivalent to a wartime award.

“This particular one is mine, but you have your own,” the Major said. “If you live long enough to retire again, maybe you’ll have a chance of holding it.”

The Major is retiring? I asked Prometheus.

Promoted, the science ship replied. He was offered the position of first officer, which allows him to keep it on display.

“Thank you for your time, cadet!” Major Tanner gave me a quick salute. I stood to attention and responded as protocol demanded. “Good luck with your next one.”

That was it: an entire summary of my time onboard squished into seven minutes and forty-five seconds. The event continued for a full hour longer. Drinks and food were brought in. Scientists and officers were soon engulfed in their own conversations, occasionally passing by to exchange a few obligatory words with me. I nodded with a smile, answering the same questions, then moved on to the next group. Interestingly enough, the people I was closest to spent the least amount of time with me. Ally excused herself and, after wishing me the best, left to find some peace and quiet in her lab. The Major was grabbed by the captain to discuss the necessary bureaucratic requirements that went with his promotion. I could already tell he was going to have a fun few months dealing with that alone. There was no trace of Jax. I never saw when he had left, but half an hour in, I received a message from him on my datapad with the single sentence “I’m glad you’re alright;” no further explanation, no heartfelt goodbye, or wish for a good assignment. The poor boy was still as confused as Sev was. Thankfully, he was smart enough not to jump ship like my ward had.

“Don’t blame him too much,” I heard Doctor Sim say beside me. “Not everyone can handle the next part.”

“I know.” Two thirds of the people initially in the room had left. The captain and the major were still there, along with the XO to my surprise. Quite a lot, everything considered. “Is it time?”

“This is your party, princess.” The doctor took a sip of the drink he was holding. “You can stay a bit more if you want to.”

“Do I have the option to call anyone off-ship?” I asked.

The man shook his head.

“Then there’s no point.” There wasn’t anyone I wanted to talk to. If Aquila was here, I might have tried to ask a few questions, but as things stood, it was better to get it over with. “After you, sir.”

Doctor Sim gulped down the rest of his drink, then put his glass on the nearest solid surface and left the bridge. I followed. From there, it was going to be a short walk to the elevator and to the med bay. Unlike before, I wasn’t going to have a med check. All necessary data regarding me had already been gathered. I was there to undergo the procedure I had agreed to the first day I had stepped aboard. All information gathered these several months, my time spent exploring unknown planets, floating through space while wrapped to a solar probe... everything but my personal onboard experiences didn’t belong to me and had to be returned.

The procedure wasn’t painful. Just like the day I retired, I would close my eyes for a moment and then open them again. When I did, part of my memories would be no more. The good doctor and Prometheus would skim through my memories to make sure no anomalies of mental artifacts remained, after which the doctor would lead me back to the bridge. There, I would go through a repeat of my farewell party… for the very first time.