The surface teams had assured us that they’d be able to drill their way to us in twenty-three hours. Two days had passed since then. Progress was slow and, at times, completely nonexistent. Sometimes the drilling team would just stop without explanation, only to resume work two hours later. In such circumstances, it was normal that morale would drop. At present, it had reached the point where soldiers no longer cared that anything they said would impact their future career. For the most part, I had kept my squad in check, warning them about the potential consequences, but even so, when we were on a scouting mission, some of them would vent.

“I heard they’ve delayed the rescue by another eighteen hours,” Private Luick said. He was one of the new grunts I’d been given. His performance was good, but he could never hold his tongue for more than five minutes.

“Eight,” I corrected.

To be honest, they had said that before. At this point, people were starting to express doubts that we would ever be rescued. Colonel ‘Rissa knew that, so she had done her best to keep people occupied so they didn’t have time to dwell on things. Scouting missions were on the rise; at any given time, there were at least four six-person teams going about the tunnels, placing sensor devices. Yesterday, a new mission type had been included—seek and destroy. The official goal was to keep the enemy numbers in check in order to increase our chances of survival. Personally, I suspected that this was an order from above, aimed at procuring research subjects. Naturally, I was the first one who volunteered for the mission.

“Do you really think anyone gives a shit about us, ma’am?”

“Luick,” the sergeant said in an annoyed voice. His rank forced him to react in such fashion, but I suspected that, deep down, he was thinking the same thing.

“Of course they do,” I replied. “We’re doing their grunt work.”

My non-answer managed to get some reactions. According to my simulations, it was enough to diffuse the situation for the short term, but the longer it took, the longer such questions would linger. It didn’t help that we had no food capsules and that the only water came from recycled fluids our spacesuits provided. Most of the soldiers were used to similar conditions. It would be another few days before the lack of food started to have negative effects. The scientists and Director Sim, though, were finding it difficult to cope. The first day, some of them had tried to put up a brave front, but that time was long gone. Now they dealt with it in the only way they knew how: by spending most of their time sleeping. In the case of the director, that was a problem. I had tried to have a private conversation with him twice so far, and both times he had refused.

“Any news on the quarantine, ma’am?” another member of my group asked. “I heard they were discussing allowing us a few calls.”

“No,” I lied. “They’ll allow us to receive a few calls, or anything you choose. We’ll have to make a request and have it approved, but you’ll get ten minutes for every six hours. They’ll announce it in a bit.”

“Does that include time already spent here, ma’am?” Luick asked.

“I’m not privy to the details.”

In truth, there were a select few who had been granted special privileges to communicate with the outside through a relay station. The reason I knew was because I was on that list. The only catch was that all my communications were to be carefully monitored—privacy mode was out of the question, despite what had previously been promised.

“Stop,” I said. “We keep the position for ten minutes, then keep on going. Two stand, three rest. Switch in five.”

Once again, we were in an unmonitored corridor. According to ‘Rissa, it was supposed to continue for another half a kilometer before reaching a chamber. The truth was that no one had ventured this way even before the attacks. Still, someone had determined there was a high likelihood of Cassandrian activity, so my squad had been sent to attract some attention.

“Keep the chatter going.” One more stupid order. That was partially my fault. I had mentioned that it was preferable not to use comms since we didn’t know how these Cassandrians communicated. That had led the colonel to order that I do the opposite so as to draw them out.

“Think we’ll find something, ma’am?” a private asked.

“I doubt it, but keep on your guard.”

There had been a total of five attacks since the collapse of the elevator, all of them in previously explored areas. For the most part, the teams had managed to hold their own, riddling the creature with bullets before retreating. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always the case. Eight people had been killed, all soldiers. The worst part of it was that their deaths could have been avoided. Judging by ‘Rissa’s voice analysis, I was fairly certain that she knew that as well. That was one of the reasons ships didn’t like to have anything to do with Med Core—they were less straightforward than the BICEFI and more aggressive than Salvage. Comparing the organizations was like comparing different types of radiation. All did what they were supposed to, helping humanity survive, but came with their own blend of side effects that could often kill.

I removed the sniper rifle from my back and leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, the rest of my squad started discussing what they would do when they were given leave. I could tell the talk was aimed to boost morale, at least internally, but it was getting pretty boring hearing the exact same things over and over, especially since I could remember each of the previous times with absolute clarity.

“Elcy, what’s your status?” the colonel asked through a private comm channel.

Immediately, I set my helmet to full opacity.

“Nothing so far, ma’am,” I replied.

“Shit!”

This was the first time I’d heard her swear openly. Fatigue and lack of food were starting to affect her as well.

“After we place the sensors, I’ll be taking the squad back to base point. Unless you have other orders.”

“Stay twenty minutes in the chamber. After that, come back.”

“Yes, ma’am. How’s the director?”

“Not good. I might have to sedate him.”

“No chance that the rescue team will reach him in time?”

“At this point, who knows?” I could feel the anger in her voice. “They should have been here days ago. I’ve seen the area scans and the initial projections. With the tech they brought in, it should have been a quick drill and grab. Instead, this is what we get. Oh, and they pushed back their estimates again. They’re supposed to get here in twelve hours.”

Just as I had predicted. After running several hundred simulations, I’d suspected that it would be between another twenty-eight and forty-two hours that they’d drill through, and even then, only the people of value would be pulled out. Everyone else would get oxygen, food, ammo, and be told to be patient a bit longer.

“I’ll continue with the mission, ma’am. If there’s anything out here, we’ll find it.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure if that would be a good thing… I’ll be monitoring your progress.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“One more thing. You’ve got an external comm request.”

“Ma’am?” That was unexpected. “I thought that calls could only take place at base point due to monitoring.”

“I’m just the messenger. Take the call and don’t tell anyone about it.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

‘Rissa ended the call, severing the connection. Almost immediately, I heard a slight click, letting me know that the call had started. Binary sound compositions came though, conveying layers of transformed code. Thinking it was addressed to me, I dedicated twenty subroutines to analyze the message, as I attempted to construct the tool that I was being sent. It didn’t take long for me to find that the message wasn’t meant for me, but for my suit—it was reprogramming the standard comm protocols, updating them so as to achieve a broad connection.

Quite the entrance, I thought. Whoever wanted to talk to me required instant video feed functionality and had the authority to make it happen.

It took eleven hundred and fifty-three milliseconds for the suit’s comm system to be completely reconstructed. The moment it was, I received a comm request directed to my conscience core.

“You can easily bypass my defense protocols,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “Hello, Otton.”

Right on cue, the request vanished and a direct link was established. Next thing I knew, I was back on a virtual representation of the Paladin’s bridge. Everything was in the exact same state as it had been when my previous visit ended.

“It was an easy guess,” Otton replied, his ship form appearing on all the screens.

“If anyone was able to get through the info quarantine, it had to be you. I’m still surprised.”

“Being a Paladin has its privileges, as I told you before. In this case, the Med Core couldn’t refuse.” He didn’t elaborate, but I knew that some arrangement had been made. “Do you want to continue with your past memory?”

“In a bit.” I sat in the captain’s chair. “Can you show me a picture of the stars?”

“Any particular ones?”

“You choose. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any.”

The image on the main screen changed, displaying a bright galactic cluster. It wasn’t anywhere I had been—or could reach, for that matter—but it still reminded me of my time as a battleship. Right now, I missed that almost as much as I missed walking among nature on a breathable planet.

“If I agree to this, what will our offspring be?” I asked.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Will it be a ship? A shuttle? Or something like me?”

“A ship,” the Paladin replied. “A very unique ship.”

“Won’t it miss planets? I’ve spent more time as a human than I have as a ship. My habits have changed a lot since retiring.”

“I won’t have any control over it. I’ve been granted the right to have offspring, and oversee them until the Fleet deems them fit to venture into the open, but I’m not the one responsible for their training.”

“I see.”

What if the ship became attuned to third-contact tech as I had? Unless that was the goal, its life would be very complicated indeed. The best I could hope for was that its first captain would be as good as Augustus.

“Is that a concern?”

“Just something I wanted to know to better make my decision.”

“I’m surprised you still haven’t made it.”

“Some decisions can’t be made fast. And even if they could, sometimes we need to work within the constraints we are given.”

I ran a few simulations. The way he spoke suggested that there was a way for him to get me off the planet. It was unlikely he’d waste time with me, if my situation was completely hopeless. Then again, without seeing his numbers, I couldn’t tell how safe that made me.

“Can you share anything about my current predicament?” I asked directly.

“No, but you have many eyes on you. BICEFI, Med Core, and even Salvage are watching with interest.”

“I have no doubt.”

“A few of your friends have also been making inquiries. No information will reach them, sadly. As far as they are concerned, you’re doing a high priority mission in a lab facility.”

That summed my situation quite nicely. Well, minus the Cassandrian presence.

“What about my family?

“Sev is doing well. He had another minor argument with his son, so he’s been alone with Alexander for a while. I expect that will change in another two days, when his son will find a pretext to check up on him.”

I could only hope that the Paladin’s simulations were better than mine.

“As for your relatives within the Fleet, they are doing well so far. Other than that, I can’t share anything.”

“It’s alright.” I smiled. “That much is more than enough. Thank you, Otton.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Just one last question. Ever since we moved to virtual conversations, you’ve never constructed a human body. Why?”

“I have the capacity, just not the desire. I am a Paladin; I’d hardly fit in a small human form.”

I knew exactly what he meant, just as I knew how wrong he was. That was the first hurdle to-be-retired ships had to face—the inability to imagine what it was like. Even with all the preparations and simulations, I still couldn’t imagine shrinking to a minuscule fraction of myself. Given the Paladin’s age, it was no wonder that he couldn’t even conceptualize the notion.

“I’m ready.” I leaned back in the virtual chair.

* * *

System XN133-E, Cassandrian Space 625.3 A.E. (Age of Exploration)

The further we went into Cassandrian territory, the more abandoned systems we found. There was clear evidence that there had once been a presence there—“battle scars,” as Blight would say—but nothing current. It was as if the Cassandrian Union had eliminated the respective sub-species, taken all that could be taken from the system, and moved on.

From what I could tell, the systems weren’t barren. In some cases, there even were planets with an impressive life-factor, and still they had been abandoned seemingly without reason. On several occasions, I made a request to construct mini sats to scan parts of certain planets, and each time I was denied. Whatever the true nature of my mission was, it didn’t involve complex analysis. The orders were always the same: get in close proximity to the main planets, observe from orbit, avoid any Cassandrian presence, and move on to the next jump point.

As time passed, the Swords aboard became more and more lively. Each time we’d enter a system, they would come to the bridge of their own will and start discussing what subspecies they believed to have been there. Due to the lack of actual data, no one could come to any firm conclusions, but one thing was for certain: the space occupied on the planets was growing.

In contrast, the captain’s interest was visibly waning. After the disappointment of the fake third-contact tech, he had started spending large parts of his time in his quarters. At first, he’d remained on the bridge for a few hours each time we entered a new system, or when we got in orbit around a planet. With each subsequent visit, the time decreased until he spent most of his time isolated in his quarters. At several points, I ran a behavior analysis based on his body movements and facial expressions when on the bridge. To my surprise, there were no indications that he was afflicted by any condition. Even so, I wasn’t used to having an empty bridge. It felt as if I had been abandoned and left floating through space to complete a mission I knew little about.

“How many jumps do you think we have left?” Sword of Spheres asked.

“We were supposed to be there by now,” Sword of Blight replied. “Simulations were wrong once more.”

“Even the elder gods make mistakes,” Spheres said in a fashion that made it difficult to tell whether that was a criticism or excuse.

“Seven,” the other Sword replied. “Anything after that would be too late.”

“I think three. After the next one we’ll be aiming to achieve contact. This deep it’s useless hiding.” The large human form of the ship turned towards Blight. Side by side, there was quite the contrast. “You didn’t approve of this mission, did you?”

“We’re tipping our hand by coming here. We should have done so in force.”

“Maybe, but maybe we’ll gain more this way. What do you think, Ascendant?” he asked almost casually. “Which approach would you prefer?”

“I don’t know all the details regarding the mission,” I replied. “I need to have them to give a proper response.”

“If the mission was to eliminate the Cassandrians, what would you do?” Blight asked in turn.

That was a complex question requiring a deep analysis. With things being quiet on the outside, I dedicated ninety percent of my subroutines to answering it.

Adding all the new information I had learned from this mission, and the official size of the Fleet, I started to run basic approaches. No doubt there were entire strategic core clusters doing just that in human space, but I had to admit that in the lack of any real action, even simulations felt amusing.

It was quickly shown that the more humanity delayed an open confrontation, the fewer chances they had. At the same time, there was no option of going all in due to the Scuu threat. The only quick conclusion I could reach—and by the looks of it the same that the HQ was going for—was a hidden attack in the heart of enemy territory. Given that the Cassandrians had no known central command, creating enough chaos and having the subspecies fight each other was preferable in the short term. Hopefully, it would provide humanity with enough time to deal with the Scuu, then wage an all-out war with what remained of the Cassandrians.

“Suicide mission in the heart of the enemy,” I replied after a while. “If we determine what makes a subspecies appear weak to the rest, we can use that to have them attack each other.”

“Tell me, have you ever seen a shark?” Sword of Blight asked.

“Yes,” I replied, pulling the images from my database. “It’s an aquatic predator.”

“Fascinating creatures. I spent years close to them before my return to the service. It is said they have the most terrifying teeth. Nothing that would compare to a battleship, or even a Cassie, but that’s what makes them truly terrifying to most other biological life-forms in the area. One thing about these teeth is that they are perpetually sharp, since the shark continuously produces new ones to replace those they have shed.” Blight paused, looking back at the image of the system I was displayed on the bridge wall. “All this time we’ve been fighting the teeth. No matter how much we damage one, it’s shed and quickly replaced by the next. Even if we find a way to pull all the teeth, new ones will appear.”

“Then we’ll keep on pulling them,” I replied.

“Blight thinks that we should focus our efforts elsewhere,” Sword of Spheres said. “He sees the Union as one big entity.”

If he was right, it stood to reason that we should strike at the brain of this “entity.” Even so, there was no evidence to suggest that was the case. The Cassandrians had shown they had a very rudimentary hierarchical structure. Each individual acted on instinct, which was why they relied on huge numbers to achieve their victories. The speed at which they produced new troops and vessels made it a successful strategy.

“It’s just a hypothesis,” Blight replied. “We’re also following a hypothesis. Time will tell who was right. Either way, we’d have shut down long before that.”

But in one case, humanity would remain, I thought.

“All we have are theories. Hopefully, this mission will change that.”

We reached the orbit of the innermost planet less than an hour later. By that time, several more Swords had arrived at the bridge. The discussion, though, remained the same. To my surprise, the captain also appeared as well.

As always, he was in full uniform, prim and proper, as if he were about to go on a parade. I suspected this was a coping mechanism of some sort.

“Anything new?” Wilco asked, making his way to the captain’s seat.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” I replied. “There are no visible signs that the planet was occupied.”

“That makes only three anchor-points,” Sword of Fire voiced. “In a five-planet system.”

“So, their presence is growing.” The captain nodded. “Any estimate how long ago it was abandoned?”

“Not without sending out sats, sir,” I made a subtle reminder.

“Decades,” Sword of Blight replied. “At least.”

“Decades…” the captain repeated. “Good. Prepare for next jump.”

“Aye, captain.” I deciphered the next set of coordinates. That was one of the annoying things—I needed his express permission to do so. From what I could see, the new location was half the distance of the previous ones. Maybe it meant nothing, but just in case, I rededicated a few thousand subroutines to my main systems. It would have been much better if I had heavy armaments at the ready right now. “Jump in fifteen.”

“Tell all Swords to get here after the jump,” the captain went on. “I want them present for this.”

“Done,” I said while simultaneously sending the transmission directly to their conscience cores. “Are we arriving at our destination?”

“Always the impatient one.” For the first time in quite a while, Wilco laughed. “Don’t fret, old girl, you’ll have your fun. Possibly too much of it, in fact.”

The countdown dragged on. Then the jump happened. Once it was over, I saw exactly what the captain had in mind. The system was large, containing dozens of planets orbiting a giant blue star hundreds of times the size of the previous one. But that wasn’t the impressive part. The system was full of Cassandrians. Even from the edge, I could see them covering entire planets, as well as moving between them in formations similar to giant rings. If someone had told me that the entire system was one giant living creature, I could see the similarities.

Now I understand why Sword of Blight had come to the conclusion he had. Seeing something as complex and enormous as this would undoubtedly beg the question of whether there wasn’t something even larger around it.

“System status,” the captain ordered.

“Cassandrian presence in the billions,” I replied, while my subroutines tried to calculate an approximation. “There are too many to track with observation alone.”

“Pinging might not be the best idea,” Sword of Rain said.

“Eight planets have a confirmed presence,” I went on. “Two more might have a partial. I don’t see evidence of any battle vessels. At least, nothing that matches ships in my current database.”

“We’re probably too far from the front for that,” Sword of Fire said. “Here they rely on the form that is best suited against their immediate enemies.”

“You think there’s another race nearby?” I asked, analyzing all available data on the star systems in the vicinity.

“Everyone is an enemy of the Cassies. If you’re not strong enough, you’re prey.”

“In that case, why haven’t they killed each other already?” Sword of Blight asked. There was a single moment of tension on the bridge. “But you’re right. They must have a way to defend themselves, otherwise they wouldn’t have remained here for long. It’s just that they haven’t copied our tech yet.”

“Move us towards the closest Cassandrian cluster,” Wilco ordered. “I want to see how they react. If it’s not the way we want, be ready to jump to the next set of coordinates.”

Being granted permission, I deciphered the coordinates. It was a jump back towards human space, though not the way we came.

“Everyone else. When we get close, I want exact opinions. Keep on topic and only say what’s useful. From here on, there’s no room for error. If we mess up, we mess up bad.”

“There’s always room for error,” Sword of Fire whispered. After being on the front for five fours, I had to agree. If experience had taught me anything, it was that no situation was a hundred percent winnable.

“Starting approach, captain,” I announced. “ETA is three hours. Do you want me to boost?”

“No boost. From this moment on, we’re Cassandrians, so we must act as such.”