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

Sixty percent of the Cassandrian ships had returned to their points of origin. The remaining twenty percent remained in orbit around the planet that was the target of attack. There were no attempts to track or attack me. It was as if nothing had happened. Once one of the three prisms had been destroyed—along with the shuttle and crew carrying it—everything had gone back to the way it had been at our arrival. The Cassandrians had made their point, and since they didn’t see any sign of aggression on our part, had remained calm ever since.

I had never seen any such behavior in the past. All the Cassandrians I had faced were either attacking or defending to the bitter end. Exceptions were few and far between, taking place only on planet surfaces. Apparently, this was just another piece of the behavior puzzle that didn’t fit with anything else. Based on my latest simulations, every Cassandrian subspecies simultaneously protected its own domain from aggression, attacked any other, but allied with them when facing us. The entire existence of the Cassandrian Union was a paradox, and yet here they were, pushing deeper into human space every year.

During my previous tours, I had seen fleets composed of various enemy ship classes. At the time, I—like everyone else—believed it to be a matter of logistics. The Fleet also sent hundreds of old ships when there was nothing else available. Knowing what I did now, I would see that the Cassie fleets were a combination of different subspecies, fighting us in unison; species that, in other circumstances, would devour each other in their natural environment. For all intents and purposes, we were fighting one giant ecosystem.

“Finished deciphering the transmissions?” Wilco asked. The recent setback had caused him to be less communicative than usual. However, there was no telling whether it was the crew that he mourned or the destruction of the artifact. As I had come to know, the prism was believed to be the core that controlled an entire subspecies. Losing it put us at a slight strategic disadvantage, not to mention that it would be next to impossible to find a replacement.

“Still ongoing, sir,” I replied.

The five Swords who had sent the info bursts had made sure to cypher everything with a sequential double-helix chain, requiring me to decipher the messages in a set order. The process had to be repeated twice. It was a crude, almost childish way to protect information that only made information retrieval much slower. It had been confirmed that the Cassandrians didn’t have the capabilities to decipher helix protocols. I suspect that in their final moment, the “junior gods” didn’t want to take any chances. Given the limited amount of time they had, they had seen this as their best option.

“ETA is an hour and thirteen minutes,” I added.

The captain relaxed back into his chair. Whatever med bay procedures he had gone through clearly were not enough. Despite his best efforts, pain and exhaustion were leaking through, and a med bot wasn’t going to solve that. I had no idea what had happened in the med bay. The captain had restricted all my memories from the moment he had been taken off the bridge to his return. All questions on the matter were ignored. Personally, I suspected some of them had been restricted as well.

“Want me to reassemble the Swords on the bridge, sir?” I asked. “They are already following your sleep schedule.”

“I’ve heard all I need from them. Any changes in the system?”

“Nothing I can determine. We aren’t being threatened, if that’s your question, sir.”

“It isn’t.” The captain stood up. As he did, he kept holding the seat with one hand, the other moving to gain support on the med bot. “I’ll be in my quarters. Tell me when you have deciphered the info, or if something changes.” He took a few wobbly steps before regaining his balance. “And construct another shuttle.”

“Is that advisable? We’ve already lost five Swords, captain.”

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice, Elcy. After all, ships are built to serve.”

Ships were built to serve, I repeated to myself. That much was true.

There were no changes in the system during the next hour. A cluster of small Cassandrian ships moved near to us at some point, quickly dispersing away a few kilometers out. Despite our obvious failure at the hands of the local subspecies, the fighter vessels were keeping their distance. Analyzing their trajectory, there was an eighty-two percent chance that they were scouting the star system, although not me in particular.

Far more changes happened aboard. The Swords, always secluded to this point, had gathered in three groups. Looking at the intensity of their discussions, they would have resorted to direct core transmissions if it wasn’t for Wilco’s orders for complete onboard silence.

Most of their conversations revolved around comparing past experiences with current events. In their own limited way, they were gathering common behavior elements in an attempt to try and figure out the capabilities of the subspecies. I had offered to help on several occasions, only to be ignored. It seemed that despite my honorific title, they didn’t consider me one of the “junior gods.” Given how ancient they were in comparison to me, I could understand. However, after spending all this time on a mission with them, I didn’t like it. This was no longer ship training with my Sword instructor and they weren’t proper ships—they were unretired.

Initially, I was quite interested in their discussions, but after a few minutes, I dedicated a dozen of my subroutines to gather the information, while I focused my attention on other things. The issue was that the conclusions of each group were vastly different and additionally were using more low-percentile speculation than I would have preferred. Ultimately, while individual findings were useful, the overall picture was largely flawed. It was almost certain that if I confronted them directly, I’d get the usual response that the Cassandrians defied analysis.

Precisely seventy-three minutes after I had told the captain, the information from the shuttle was deciphered.

“Message deciphered, sir,” I announced in his quarters. “The information is marked for your eyes only.”

“Ignore that,” Wilco said: voice only, naturally. However, his order now made it possible for me to view the contents of the transmissions. “Display the data to the crew.”

“It would be much more efficient if I transmit it directly to their conscience cores,” I said, not seeing the value of having to spend minutes to transfer something that could be done in milliseconds.

“And get everyone on the bridge.”

“As you wish.” I made my displeasure known and obeyed the orders. At the same time, I had no intention of waiting. I was fully capable of going through the entire data within milliseconds, and that was precisely what I was going to do.

Memory access – Sword of Rain

* * *

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

I double-checked to make sure the prism was functioning as intended. As far as I could tell, everything was in order. Theoretically, it was supposed to ensure us safe passage past all Cassie fighters and onto the planet, but one could never be sure. There was nothing a hundred percent certain with the Cassies. I had destroyed three races so far, and each time was completely different from the last. If things went as they were supposed to, this would be my fourth.

“Found a cluster,” Sword of Ruin said. I didn’t like her or her appearance.

According to her record, she had destroyed two races, which made her twice better than me. Despite that, she remained an abomination like the rest of us. The kid was the only one left pure on this mission, but she wouldn’t remain like that for long.

“Go for it,” I said. My kill variable gave me seniority. That wasn’t anything to brag about. I wasn’t supposed to be here. None of us were. “Any reaction from the kid?”

“No,” Sword of Round replied, staring at the visual display. His previous sensors would have allowed him to see her in full detail from this distance. Organic sensors, though, sucked big time. “She’s on a short leash.”

“She’s too reckless. Tell me if anything happens on her end.”

“Think she’ll make it till the end?” Sword of Ruin asked.

I didn’t reply. The percentages weren’t looking good, but if there was anyone who survived, it would be her. She was the only ship. If we succeeded in our mission, she would have to bring the spoils back to human space, or the news of our failure. Either way, I didn’t envy her.

“Here we go,” Sword of Round said. “She’s tipping towards the atmosphere.”

It had started.

“Boost us to the cluster, Ruin.”

Acceleration pushed me back momentarily as we went on towards our target. If the Cassies hadn’t noticed us so far, they definitely had now. Once again, it was time to see if our luck would hold. When we had entered the ship, it had been too decrepit to react. These were fully functional enemies that had the backup of an entire enemy system.

I looked at the prism once more. It wasn’t the one I had harvested, but it was said to be just as good.

It took us seconds to get within range of the ships. For approximately three hundred and ninety-three milliseconds, they hesitated, probably trying to determine our intentions, then broke up and flew off in all directions. Moments later, they readjusted their trajectory, heading towards the planet.

“So it’s not us they’re scared of,” Sword of Round said.

“Might be a coincidence.” I had no idea why I said that. It was one of those strange reactions that came with my human body. Even after all this time, I hadn’t gotten used to them. If there was something I could rip off my current form, that would be the first.

“There are no coincidences,” Sword of Reason said. He was the oldest among us by far and claimed he was one of the first retirees. I had used some of his tactical maneuvers to destroy my first race. At the time, I had felt thankful. Now, I was just as cynical of our purpose as he was.

“All our names start with the letter R,” Ruin said. “That’s one coincidence.”

“Chase after the fighters,” I ordered. “If they’re okay with us pushing, let’s push harder.”

Our names were possibly a coincidence, but not the team itself. When Wilco had made the teams, he was very specific that we were the ones to go. He had put on an act for the kid, but it was his choice that got us here. Did that mean that we were the most likely to succeed, or that we were the greatest liabilities to the mission? After half an eternity, we were going to find out.

“Looks like we have movement on the planet,” Sword of Reason said after a while.

“Ship launches?” I went to check his screen.

“Looks like. The Cassies didn’t appreciate the poke.”

“So much for remaining invisible,” Round joined in. “I could use a few missiles about now.”

“It won’t make a difference.” I moved back.

“I wasn’t talking about our missiles. It would have given us the answers faster.”

I could see his point. Having a few missiles fly our way would at least show their intentions. As things were, we had to guess even about that.

More launch bursts were visible on the planet. From this distance, they appeared like momentary dots of light, barely caught by the shuttle’s sensors. My pattern recognition spotted them right away. Based on the frequency and the direction, it was looking like they were moving to intercept the Light Seeker.

Using my limited processing power, I tried to run a simulation to confirm my reasoning. The results were highly unsatisfactory.

“They’re heading for the kid,” I said. “Can anyone confirm?”

A few thousand milliseconds passed in silence, as we tried to check something that would have taken milliseconds in our previous husks. Ultimately, the consensus was that my original hypothesis had been correct—the Cassies didn’t appreciate the poke and were acting accordingly. They had done the same the second time I had destroyed a race. Back then, I had used it to our advantage, letting a squadron get their attention before I had swooped in and destroyed the colony artifact.

“Change our direction!” I ordered. “Follow the kid.”

There was a risk, and it was quite high, but given that we might never get another such opportunity, there was no alternative. Half the others would probably disagree, but they weren’t put in charge.

“Track anything aimed at us. They might want to pick us out.”

“Last time round the sky,” Round said. We all understood what he meant.

The Ascendant modified her course three times as we were following. Initially, she went as close to the edge as she could, then suddenly stopped, maintaining a steady orbit. It was at that point that I saw the obvious—they hadn’t understood the significance of their poke.

“They don’t get it.” I looked towards Ruin. There was a high chance that for once, the both of us were in agreement. “Prepare for an info burst.”

I started encrypting all memories since the shuttle’s departure. I knew that the moment we let the signal out, our cover would be blown and even the Cassie prism wouldn’t be able to hide us. Given the binary choice, it was the main team that had to survive, especially since the only true human aboard was there.

“That’s improbable,” Round said, moving to the monitor that followed the Ascendant. “There are thirty-five gods there. One of them must have realized.”

“How many of them had used stealth to kill a race?” I asked, even if I knew full well the answer. According to my original briefing, when the Fleet had snatched me back into the fold, I was given the file of all Swords who had returned; every retiree was. Going through their files, only one other had killed a race through a sneak attack—Sword of Reason.

“They still should have recognized the poke.”

“Most likely they have,” Reason joined in. “It’s the captain who’s keeping them in orbit. The Ascendant has seen the ships by now. The fact that she hasn’t done anything about it means that she was ordered not to.”

That sounded like Wilco. I respected him enough to follow his call, but he had been behaving too erratically. First the unscheduled ship breach and now this. Being close to his goal was having a negative effect on him. Quite ironic, considering he belonged to Med Core.

It didn’t take long for shit to hit the fan. A cluster of Cassie ground ships had targeted the Ascendant, as I expected. If they continued along their current path, they’d soon end up in visual range of one another.

“Get ready for drop,” I said. “I’ll transmit a burst, then we’re heading down to go on with the mission. In the worst-case scenario, they’ll learn from our mistakes.”

“Their mistakes,” Reason corrected. “They’ll learn from their mistakes.”

Sad but true. The optimal solution was for me to send them a short burst warning them of the danger, then—provided that we managed to reach the surface in one piece—send out a longer burst with any data we could obtain from the local subspecies. I had no illusions; at this point, it was virtually impossible for us to succeed in our mission, although there was a slight chance we might send the artifact back up. It all depended on the window size and the Cassies’ reaction towards us.

Just as I was about to give the order, the kid engaged thrusters, changing course. That was good for them, but would inevitably shift all the attention back to us. There were milliseconds to make a decision: do we change thrust away from the planet as well, aiming for an eventual rendezvous with the Ascendant, or continue down to the planet?

“Drop in the atmosphere!” I ordered. The chance was just too good to miss, regardless of the odds. “Sending you my encryption key. We’ll info burst when we need to.”

The shuttle rotated in the opposite direction of Light Seeker and engaged all thrusters. We were on our own now, and we weren’t coming back. The speed increased steadily until warnings covered the screens, warning that the thrusters had heated up beyond their safety limit. I looked at Ruin.

“I’ve bypassed the AI’s safety protocols,” she said. “We’re going one way, right?”

“Right.”

Only now, at the end, had the Sword managed to say something that made me change my mind about her. The old gods were right—the greatest discoveries were always made near the end.

“Five more ships launched from the surface,” Round said. “They aren’t aimed at us.”

“We’re still in the window,” I replied. “Head to the greatest cluster of activity you can see.”

“The prize might not be in this hemisphere.”

“It’s probably not, but the attack pattern will give the rest an idea of where it is.”

I recalculated the odds. If this was anything like the final race I killed, all Cassies would soon focus their attention on us and launch whatever strength they had. At the time, there were a few fighter squadrons, which I had easily eliminated. Of course, back then, I was my normal size and packed to the brim with missiles. Here, a thousandth of a percent would be more than enough to destroy the shuttle. Following the standard protocol, we’d have expected our final shutdowns long before they came close.

“I’ll gather some visuals,” Sword of Reason said and calmly went to another part of the shuttle. I chose to remain at the screen instead, switching to a wide external view. The sensors of the shuttle were pretty bad, but they would have to do—they were still better than my organic receptors.

“Fighter clusters,” Ruin said. “Must be a few hundred. They look like low flight vessels.”

“It’s been a while since I've seen those. Are they targeting us?”

“Everything is targeting us,” she responded. “Counting over three thousand, likely more. We really stirred up the nest.”

“Probably because they think we have a nest of our own.”

I glanced at the Cassie prism. From their perspective, we were a swarm invading their territory. They probably thought that we’d come to claim the whole planet and everything organic on it. No, they were probably afraid we’d come for their colony prism. That was the one thing that Cassies couldn’t create—their single weakness. Colonies, ships, and armies could be replaced, but if a subspecies lost their key prism, all of them went into decay.

“More coming from this end,” Reason said. “ETA thirty-two hundred and six thousand milliseconds. If we’re going to burst, we need to burst now.”

“Not yet,” I replied. “We need to get more to help them with the triangulation.”

Tens of thousands of Cassies were heading towards us. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were millions more that we couldn’t see. It was fitting that I would die doing the run I had upon destroying my last race. As my first captain would say, there is justice in the universe. After all this time, I was finally going to be no more. My existence had gained humanity a few years, but it had also brought an end to three species. Now I wouldn’t have to constantly think about it.

“Sending info burst,” I said.

Final shutdown sequence initiated.

* * *

The memory had caught me completely unprepared. The instant it was over, I went through it again and again. Now I understood why Wilco didn’t want anyone to link to it. Too many of Sword of Rain’s unadulterated thoughts had seeped through—things irrelevant to the mission in question and somewhat strange. They distinctly felt more human than ship, filled with questions I couldn’t begin to understand, let alone answer. There were some segments of value, though—information the Sword had of the mission that I wasn’t privy to. Most importantly, there was enough for me to infer what the overall goal was.

“Displaying information to all, sir,” I said, displaying all the technical information on walls throughout me. “The thirty-five Swords are on their way to the bridge.” I made a point to state the number. Although Rain and the other Swords were ships, they were still part of this mission.

Wilco didn’t respond. Given the information, I was almost certain that he was going through Rain’s memories as well, just as I was certain that there were large segments of information that were thought-quarantined off. While I was unable to locate any visual or audio discrepancies, there was one logical issue that could not be ignored: five Swords had been assigned to the shuttle, and yet I had only seen four of them. Going through my database, Sword of Rage had also boarded the shuttle and died as a result. Still, there was no trace of him whatsoever in Rain’s memories.

You really were five “R”s, I thought.

Wilco had sent them to sneak onto the planet and find another prism. Maybe he—and his Med Core overlords—believed that the prism would be enough to intimidate any other Cassandrians enough to let the shuttle through. It was a flawed idea, but given the little actual data we had on Cassandrians, it was a possible starting point. Instead, the sub-species had seen itself as threatened and reacted appropriately.

As the Swords gathered on the bridge, their discussions became less and less vocal. Most had already come up with probable locations of the planet’s colony prism, discussing calculation methods and likelihoods of success. Of course, I had already pinpointed three areas with the best odds based on the shuttle team’s observations. Naturally, there was no guarantee that even I was right.

Everyone had already gathered on the bridge when the captain finally joined in. He seemed visibly worse than he had before entering his quarters. Another visit to the med bay was in order. That is, if he didn’t have special zero priority authority. Not even a health crisis would allow me to do anything aboard without his express permission.

“You’ve seen the data,” Wilco said, trying to hide the pain in his voice. It was pointless—no ship could miss it. “Conclusions?”

“We can’t go down the way Rain tried,” Sword of Spheres said the obvious. “There weren’t any land fliers during my campaigns. The Cassies focused only on space and ground.”

“Because they had adapted to fight us,” Sword of Blight noted. I had no idea how many races he had killed off, but he gave the impression of being more experienced than most of the others. “They haven’t seen a lot of space combat, but they know of it. My guess is that they have destroyed a species that had contact with us.”

“You’re saying that these Cassandrians have never faced humans before?” There was an unexpected wave of energy in Wilco’s voice.

“It seems that way. Light Seeker can crunch the numbers, but I’d say they have only fought others of their kind. They didn’t fire missiles, and only launched a few ships, given how much of the planet they’ve covered.”

“Then we still have a chance…” the captain whispered.

Slowly, he made his way to the command chair and relaxed in it. No one said a word the entire time he did, waiting for the order.

“Elcy, how’s progress on the shuttle?”

“I’ll need fourteen more hours.” I rounded up to the hour. “Remaining with one prism will be risky, though. The chances of—”

“There won’t be a prism on the shuttle,” Wilco interrupted me mid-sentence. “A team of ten will be going instead.”

“Are you out of your mind, sir?” Captain or not, Augustus had shown me that hesitation and stupidity shouldn’t mix. The idea was reckless, not to mention outright terrible. Five had already been sacrificed. Adding ten more wasn’t going to prove anything. “There is every indication that the Cassandrians will attack any approaching vessel, even without a prism.”

“You’re right, old girl. It’s likely that they will attack. That is why, instead of the prism, one of your processing cores will be placed on the shuttle. You’ll be piloting it, and if you make it there and back, we’ll have our answer.”