System XNBBl-2, Cassandrian Space, 625.2 A.E. (Age of Exploration)

Forty retired Swords all in one place. The notion itself was on the verge of impossibility. Adding in the fact that all of them were unretired made the experience all the more unusual. For one thing, I had no idea how I was supposed to address them. Compared to me, they were my superiors, legends in their own right. A glimpse of their military record, provided through operation Star Storm, portrayed them as veteran war heroes. There was a joke in the Fleet that there wasn’t a Sword alive that wasn’t a war hero. For this group to have been selected, they must have been something special.

On several occasions, a few of them had attempted to start a conversation with me. Each time, I had responded briefly and politely, but never showing initiative on my own. Aurie should have been chosen for this mission. For her, it would have been like a dream come true—all the stories and gossip she could ever want to hear.

“Final jump concluding in seven seconds,” I announced to all crew locations. “Going to silent yellow alert.”

Once the jump was over, I’d officially be in Cassandrian space. A day ago, I was unaware that any ship had ever entered it. According to the data brief associated with the operation, I was the second. There was no indication as to what had happened with the first.

“Have you ever been this far out?” Captain Wilco turned to one of the passengers on the bridge.

“Close,” Sword of Rain replied. “I was involved in a few skirmishes thirty light years away. Never quite this far, though.”

“Jump concluding in one,” I said. Then, there I was—one of the very few ships to have arrived this far behind enemy lines.

Cassandrian space proper, I thought. Even dark recon operations didn’t venture this far. According to Fleet records, there were dozens, if not hundreds, of operations in Cassandrian space, but all those were areas that had once belonged to humanity. During the first few decades of the war, the area was referred to as the occupied zone. The term had quickly fallen out of favor since it had become obvious that humanity, at the time, had no hope of reclaiming their territories. The “buffer zone” emerged as a substitute, and it too changed with time to refer to a zone of space that was considered contested by the Fleet’s strategic processing clusters.

“Passive observation reveals no signs of enemy presence.” I did a mass distribution analysis of the system. “Estimated accuracy is forty-three percent.”

“I’ve seen worse odds,” Sword of Fire said. His appearance was of the most nondescript person possible. However, his seniority was second to that of the captain. According to his military file, he had served the longest, including a full tour under a Paladin. “System visuals.”

“Yes, sir.” I displayed the images on the screen. “This is a three-planet system with a blue giant sun. Readings indicate multiple satellites orbiting the second and third planet. Exact number ranging between seven and nine, and four to six, respectively. Minimal chances of life.”

Normally, I wouldn’t read out data to other ships, but given that the captain was present, I went ahead with my standard routine. All the time, I was worried that the Swords would start whispering criticisms between each other. I wasn’t used to this level of inaccuracy. Even when I had processing cores knocked out in battle, I would still be able to present better data. To my surprise, the Swords didn’t think anything of it. If anything, they seemed more concerned with the planets themselves.

“If it’s a nest, it’s not one I’ve come across,” Sword of Rain said, moving closer to the wall. “We should be safe. I wouldn’t recommend staying longer than six hours. This might be an internal waypoint.”

“Odds of that are low,” Sword of Spheres noted. “I think we’re good for twenty-four.”

“Unnecessary risk.” Sword of Rain crossed his arms. His child-like appearance very much contrasted with that of the other Sword.

It was difficult to say what their relations were. Unlike in space, the Swords preferred to keep their distance from one another, only leaving their respective decks to come to the bridge. There had been no other instances of several of them being in the same spot at once. Even the elevators they took getting to and back from the bridge were deliberately different.

“We’ll remain here for six hours, then we’ll get closer to do a visual check of the planets,” Wilco said. “You’re up, Fire. Time to unwrap the cargo.”

“Yes, Captain.” Sword of Fire made his way off the bridge.

“Elcy, direct Two and Victor to head to hangars one and twenty-eight. Let them know they are a go.”

“Informing Sword of Two and Sword of Victor.” I obeyed the order while stressing the full names of the ships. Being veterans, they deserved the proper respect.

“Internal displays of hangars one, seven, and twenty-eight.”

Three new images appeared on the bridge walls. Up until the start of the operation, all information regarding the hangars in question had been quarantined. Now, I was able to see the small black containers placed in each. They were small things, no larger than a missile warhead. I had learned, however, that something didn’t have to be large to be dangerous.

“What are you thinking?” Wilco turned to Sword of Rain. “Abandoned feeding grounds?”

“Unlikely. The sun isn’t right, and there would be a protection fleet if there was anything valuable. Most likely the system was checked and passed.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” the captain laughed.

“I still think that it’s a risk staying for long.”

“We don’t have a choice in the matter. If something goes wrong, better now than further in. It’ll only get more complicated from here on.”

“The element of surprise only lasts once, sir.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Rain. The element of surprise can go on and on and on.”

I didn’t comment, although in this case I agreed with the Sword. If the Cassandrians discovered a human ship in their territory, they’d immediately go on high alert. I knew that I would go on high alert if anything unknown was found outside of the buffer zone.

“Your mission, Captain.”

The results of my systems diagnostic came through. I went through the data, then restarted the loop. One of the mission requirements was to constantly check my systems and keep a detailed log.

Sword of Victor was the first to arrive at his hangar. Without requesting permission, he proceeded to open the container. I sent two warnings, both of which were quietly acknowledged and ignored. Given how much in awe I was of Swords, as were most ships from my class, I didn’t continue.

Once the container was open, I focused on its contents. Ten centimeters of titanium alloy encased a hexagonal prism of blue metal. Preliminary analyses suggested that the metal was cobalt. The craftsmanship was impressive—as much as I zoomed in, I could still see an edge.

“Captain, a word, if you please?” I said on the bridge.

“Go ahead, Elcy.”

“I prefer that your full attention is devoted to the conversation, sir.”

Wilco remained still for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling and started laughing.

“Full Sword quarantine mode,” he said casually, as if he was ordering breakfast.

The Swords didn’t react—there was no way they would. As far as they were concerned, the captain was still sitting quietly in his chair. The entire conversation that I was about to have would be caught by their core subroutines and restricted before it entered their memory. For all intents and purposes, the conversation didn’t exist; it was merely backed up for archival purposes.

“There're only ships here, Elcy,” Wilco continued, still amused. “If you want to have a private conversation, just say so. They’re veterans, they’re used to it. And even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t remember it,”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” The same could be said about me as well. “I noticed that I will be having new cores installed. I don’t think that’s a good idea, from a mechanical standpoint. It takes more than a wrench and some expertise to synch an auxiliary core to the rest.”

“I’m aware of that. That’s why you aren’t being equipped with new cores.”

I focused on the hangar items. There were two of them now—Sword of Fire had also opened his container and was in the process of extracting his prism. Both objects appeared identical.

“Those have the characteristics of core technology, Captain. If they aren’t cores, might I know what they are?”

“That’s a bit above your clearance level.” Wilco’s smile suddenly vanished. “There’s no need for you to know at this point. Let’s say that the artifacts are supposed to keep you invisible and leave it at that? There’s nothing to be concerned about. You’ve dealt with a lot of them during our time with Augustus.”

“I’ll take your word for it, sir, but that still wouldn’t be enough. I need to be fully informed about every component that is added to my systems.”

“This isn’t a debate, Elcy. Political freedoms don’t apply to this mission. The decision wasn’t mine, believe me in that.”

An analysis of his intonation and vocal patterns strongly suggested that he was telling the truth.

“The mission requirements demand it.” I displayed an extract of the paragraph in question on the wall in front of Wilco. “If I am required to run continuous diagnostics of my systems, I need to be aware of what those systems do. I know that Augustus had a high opinion of me, but I can’t follow two sets of conflicting orders simultaneously.”

There were times when I felt sorry for officers having to deal with bureaucratic paradoxes. This wasn’t one of them. For three thousand two hundred and ninety milliseconds, I watched conflict and indecision bubble to the surface of Wilco’s expression.

“Okay.” Ultimately, he relented. “You’re not to transmit this knowledge under any circumstances without direct orders from Command.”

The fact that he hadn’t forbidden me to discuss it with the crew suggested that they were aware already.

“The mission is already classified, sir. I can double its secrecy if that would make you feel better.” Not to mention that I’ll go through the standard memory restriction once the mission is over.

“This is mostly for your benefit. You’re aware of the third-contact protocols?”

“A set of regulations put in place in case humanity comes into contact with another sentient race,” I recited. There had been rumors of discovered artifacts of unclear origin, but nothing official had been said on the matter. Statistical probabilities suggested that it was likely other sentient races had to exist. Given humanity’s track record, the chances of a third war emerging as a result were dangerously high.

“That’s one part of it. In fact, there have been thousands of recovered third-contact artifacts… confirmed third-contact artifacts. I won’t go into details, but such artifacts have been found throughout human space, including the buffer zones. They present a significant military advantage, and so all three races are fighting to obtain as many as possible.”

Alien technology? That definitely would explain the BICEFI’s unusual and seemingly random interest. I had done several missions for them under Augustus. It was likely that some of them involved “third-contact” artifacts as well.

“I’ve been equipped with third-contact weapons?” I asked.

“You have, though that’s not what’s in your hangars. Artifacts have their own classifications as well. Maybe in time I’ll remove the quarantine block, maybe not.” Wilco looked at the feed on the bridge wall. “Those are Cassandrian prisms taken from enemy command ships. From what the big brains at Salvage have managed to make out, one of their functions is to determine the place of a ship in the hierarchical structure. When we integrate the devices to your systems, we should be ignored by the majority of the enemy fleets.”

“Sounds too good to be true, sir.” I started running simulations. Given the level of secrecy surrounding the mission, I had no doubt that enough high-ranking members of the Fleet believed the operation to have merit. Based on my personal experience, however, I had serious doubts.

I guess I know what happened to the previous ship that attempted this.

“Of course it does. That’s what you’re here for,” he added with his annoying humor. Sadly, he was right. No doubt some initial tests had been done with the devices, but it was up to us to see the results in practice. “End Sword quarantine.”

All three Swords took their respective prisms and left the hangars. Authority override protocols triggered, setting a path to my command clusters—two were near my scan and communication section, and the third remained unknown.

While I waited, several more members of the crew arrived on the bridge. They joined the other two Swords, silently observing the images on the walls. No words were exchanged. Was that how retirees normally behaved, or was it because they were Swords? Despite the vast successes they had achieved at the time, the Sword class still remained a partially developed ship class. Unlike me, they had far fewer restrictions, but also lacked a complete personality, as if they were all created from the same mold.

“What do you think that is?” one of the new arrivals asked Sword of Rain.

According to the personnel file, his name was Sword of Blight and, befitting of his name, he had chosen a body with the most gruesome appearance among all forty ships—pale, with beady little eyes and sharp facial features. If I ever retired, I would never have chosen something so unbecoming. To each their own, I guess.

I magnified the section of the image he was pointing at: a small asteroid field in orbit around the second planet.

“Battle scars?”

Sword of Rain took a step closer. Soon he was followed by Sword of Spheres.

“Could be,” Sword of Rain replied. “I didn’t have much experience with planet busting.”

“Seventy-seven percent chance it’s natural,” Sword of Spheres voiced his thoughts. “If it’s a scar, it’s ages old.”

“All the good scars are.” Sword of Blight nodded. If this was an attempt at humor, it was among the worst I’d seen, second only to the complete lack of visual cues coming from the ship. Gibraltar would describe it as a joke in a fish tank; of course, he had been referring to bureaucratic meetings. “What do you think, Captain? Worth the look?”

“As good a place as any. Elcy, what’s the status of the mods?”

“One is fully connected to my system and undergoing integration procedures,” I said, conveying what my subroutines were informing me. “The other two are in progress. Might be a while before they’re fully set and running.”

“Okay, we have that much time to decide. Opinions?”

“Planet proximity is risky,” Sword of Rain said almost immediately. “There’s nothing for us to pretend to be.”

“We’ll have to deal with that at some point. The sooner, the better,” Sword of Blight argued.

“We need a more cluttered system.”

“I’m with Blight,” Sword of Spheres said. “Our chances of discovery increase with time, so better rush it. If the mission is a bust, we’ll know to move to Plan B.”

While they were arguing, I ran additional analyses of the area. There didn’t seem anything unusual about the asteroid ring. From this distance, and without the ability to run scans, it was impossible to determine anything for certain. Even mass and composition were predictions based only on the planet.

Two of my subroutines let me know that the installation of the prisms was complete. I redirected ten more to assist in the diagnostic. It wasn’t ideal, not knowing the actual tech specifics. Ultimately, I was going to have to rely on the techs that had tested the devices and the Swords that installed them.

“All prisms have been installed, sir,” I announced. “Diagnostics claim everything is in order, although I’m not registering any power consumption.”

“The devices have a power source of their own,” Wilco said, as if such a vague explanation was useful. “Let the teams do a final check, then have them return here.”

“Message sent to the three Swords, sir.” I transmitted the order. “Shall I prepare for jump?”

Under Augustus, I wouldn’t dare be so direct, but I was getting tired of useless waiting.

“Always so eager,” the captain laughed. “Well, gentlemen, what’s the verdict?”

“Checking out the asteroid belt is the best option,” Sword of Blight was quick to say. “With luck, we might come across a dormant patrol and check if the tech is as good as it’s supposed to be.”

“I still advise against it.” Sword of Rain shrugged. “Planet proximity might get us in trouble.”

“Spheres?” Wilco asked.

“I’m with Blight. The risk is worth it.”

I would have very much liked to see his odds, as well as the methods he used to calculate them. Even if they were legends, they remained retirees, which means that their processing capability was severely downgraded.

“Elcy, to the asteroid belt. Quarter speed, no boosting. No scans, but keep a lookout. From here on, consider it as if we’re in constant silent alert.”

“Yes, captain.”

Quarter speed was way too slow for my taste. By my estimates, it was going to be over forty-one hours until I reached the planet in a drifting fashion—an incredibly long amount of time by any standards. None of the Swords protested, silently looking at the data I was displaying on the walls.

When Fire returned to the bridge, along with a few more Swords, my captain transferred power to him and went to his quarters for some rest. I was to keep observing everything going in and out and notify the captain in case of any unexpected event.

How I wished there was such an event. Nothing of remote interest occurred within the system. The Swords rarely exchanged a few words between each other and didn’t talk with me at all. All of a sudden, I felt like a rookie again.

By the time we got close enough to the second planet, I had run several million simulations on everything from combat scenarios in the system to future jump points. Part of the mission parameters included the requirement that only the captain had the authority to decide where I’d jump next. According to estimates, and the suspected size of the overall Cassandrian fleet, we were likely to stumble upon an occupied system within five jumps at most.

“Anything unusual, Elcy?” Wilco asked while having a bite on the bridge. I didn’t particularly approve of the practice, but given that he was the only human aboard, it didn’t matter much.

“I would have informed you if there was, sir.” I displayed images of the second planet and its nine satellites, as well as five different parts of the asteroid belt. “No anomalies, threats, or Cassandrian vessels detected. System bodies have a life factor of zero as far as I can determine through passive observation.”

If only I were allowed to scan. From a military aspect, I knew that any scan would attract too much unwanted attention, but if the Fleet didn’t want me to use my scanning equipment, why hadn’t they removed the system altogether?

“Give me a max resolution image of the planet,” Sword of Rain said.

I placed the new image in front of him and watched as all Swords clustered together to analyze it.

What are you looking at? I wondered. I had already finished my analyses. Just to be on the safe side, I ran it again, dedicating half my subroutines to it. If there was something special, I wasn’t seeing it.

“Rain?” Wilco said, his voice surprisingly tense.

“I cannot be certain.” The boy took a step closer to the wall image. “There are some patterns, but nothing definitive. Even if something was on the planet, they abandoned it millennia ago. I think takeover.”

“Anything underground?”

“It’s not a pod world. We can go down if you’d like.”

“Spheres, Blight?” Wilco ignored the suggestion.

“Belt is definitely a battle scar,” Sword of Blight said. “Looks old, so we should be alright.”

“System doesn’t look like much, so odds of it being a resupply point are less than two percent,“ Sword of Spheres added. “Looks like a husk system, so it might be alright to risk a ping.”

The conversation didn’t seem to make sense. It was as if everyone was talking about an entirely different set of events. Battle scar? Pod planet? Husk system? All these were phrases I didn’t know. Going through my memories and database archives, I failed to find any meaningful reference.

“Sir, I’m not detecting any anomalies or abnormalities,” I repeated.

Stay calm, Ascendant, Sword of Fire transmitted directly to me. This isn’t about you or your systems, it’s about our experience.

With respect, sir, I’m the only one with the sensors and processing power that could do an adequate analysis. There’s no evidence of anything unusual on the second planet.

That’s why we aren’t discussing the planet’s present state, the Sword replied, adding a virtual tone of authority to his transmission and putting me on notice. I might well be the only full battleship, but I had to keep my attitude in check. For a moment, I felt as if I were back in training along with my first instructor. We’re analyzing the similarities so as to determine how to act from here on.

“So it doesn’t look like one of yours?” My captain pointed at Sword of Spheres.

“Don’t think so,” the large unretired replied. “It’s either Rain’s or Blight’s. Could be something in-between.”

“Any way to narrow it down without a ping or a sortie?”

What exactly are they comparing, sir? I transmitted to Sword of Fire. Everyone’s focusing on different elements of the system and ignoring the rest. If I’m given some details, maybe I could assist. I could ask for authorization from Captain Wilco to review your mission files, if that’s what’s needed.

We aren’t comparing missions, kid. We’re comparing the system to those of the Cassandrian races we’ve destroyed.

The significance of that simple statement was so fundamental that it shattered all of my preconceived notions, as well as centuries of official facts, regarding the Cassandrians. When I was told that the Junior Gods were ships that had destroyed a race, I thought that was a euphemism for planet purging on a massive scale. I wasn’t even able to process what Sword of Fire was implying right now.

I’ll need an explanation, sir.

“Captain,” Sword of Fire said loudly, ending all other discussions. “Kid wants to know about the Junior Gods.”

All eyes turned his way, as if he’d uttered a classified briefing in the mess hall.

“Better get it over with now. She deserves to know.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, Fire.” Wilco didn’t seem pleased. I could see him seething silently behind his mask of politeness.

“The condemned don’t get to worry about the future.” There was a distinct note of defiance in the Sword’s voice. “Also, it’ll improve the mission’s chances.”

This was the first time I had seen a standoff between a ship and a captain. Granted, Sword of Fire was legally considered human, but he was still part of the Fleet and under the direct command of Wilco. If we weren’t so far away from human space, the ship would have been immediately ordered into sleep mode, pending a full rogue inquiry.

“If she breaks, she’d better break now.”

There was a long moment of silence. In the end, Wilco shook his head.

“Elcy won’t break.” Analysis detected he was sincere—something to boost my confidence, at least. “In the future, though, leave such decisions to me. I’ll tell her all she needs to know when I think is best. Clear?”

Sword of Fire nodded.

“Good. Anything you’d like to comment on, Elcy?”

“Not at present, sir.” What could I possibly ask? “I’d just like enough information so I can perform my duties adequately.” It was also true that after so many tours on the Front, I was getting tired of being kept in the dark about everything.

“Very well.” The man stood up from his chair, then proceeded to rub his hands for several seconds, ending with a sharp clap. “Despite what’s come to be known, the Cassandrians aren’t a single entity. Rather, they are a united front of hundreds, maybe thousands of species. In the early days, they were openly called the Cassandrian Union. That was before a number of discoveries were made.”

The captain paused, as if deciding how much he wanted to share.

“First, Med Core was able to establish a link between all captured Cassandrian species. It turned out that despite their varied biology, the Cassandrians were sub-species, or races, of a single common group. That in itself wasn’t significant outside of a few scientific circles; however, it brought attention to something much bigger.” Wilco licked his lips, then wiped them off with the back of his hand. “Cassandrians don’t upgrade their ships. They never have. All the changes we’ve seen were merely one Cassandrian race replacing another—extreme battlefield evolution in real time. If one of their races proves to be weak, another takes its place.”

Incredible. That explained why they weren’t concerned with losses. Losing millions of ships only meant that the created vacuum would be filled with something more powerful.

“And it doesn’t stop there. When a Cassandrian sub-species is determined to be too weak, it is taken out. Completely annihilated by the rest.” There was another long pause. “The principles of this dog-eat-dog evolution remain unclear, but we’ve learned that dealing enough damage to the command structure of a Cassandrian race would trigger its annihilation.”

While he spoke, I went through the list of all Cassandrian ships on record—three hundred seventy-nine, not counting single instance variations. If each of them were a different race…

“Every Sword here is responsible for the annihilation of at least one Cassandrian race,” Wilco continued. “They’re also familiar with every known detail regarding “their” race—ships, tactics, planetary habitat, and so on. They were chosen to make use of that knowledge and guide you to the heart of the Cassandrian domain so humanity can prepare for things to come.”