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

A dozen ships ran simulations parallel to mine. Their attempts were outright sad, but their experience made up for it by narrowing a lot of the vital parameters. Despite the methods used and the difference in processing power, we had come to the same conclusion: just as the Cassandrians weren’t the only race we were fighting, they had other enemies as well.

According to the official Fleet database, there had been several instances of flotillas disappearing for no known reason. Some were believed to be due to natural phenomena; others were suspected of being caused by ships going rogue. In truth, there was no telling what had really happened, and that was just for the unclassified incidents. Knowing the Fleet, there likely were thousands of more cases restricted away, due to one classification or another. Before this mission, I would have considered it a good thing. After knowing everything I did now, it was anything but good. Having a race that was powerful enough to keep the Cassies at bay was good for humanity in the short term. Inevitably, though, there would come a time when third-contact would officially be established, and that would lead to yet another war. Based on the artifacts left behind, it wasn’t a war humanity could win.

Cassandrian ships continued flying along their established paths, showing no signs of deviation in the last eighteen hours. The goal of my existence was to destroy as many of them as possible to increase humanity’s chances of survival. It had been a difficult task, and many believed it to be impossible—at the very least, it would be centuries after my final shutdown that humanity would emerge victorious. My first captain had dedicated his life to achieving the possibility of such a future. What would he think when he learned there was a three-point-seven percent chance that the third-contact race had never died out?

Analysis of sample C-38776 failed, a subroutine informed me.

After finally choosing to respond to my requests, Wilco had allowed me to dedicate part of my resources to analyzing the liquid collected from the Cassandrian colony. Access to the Sword of Space’s conscience core or the prisms themselves remained forbidden, however.

“I can’t analyze the sample,” I informed Sword of Flame. “Attempting to do so gives me different results each time. So far, I’ve failed to establish a pattern.” What I had done, though, was seal some away in a dedicated container. Provided we got back, the Fleet’s science divisions would take a crack at it to find out what we couldn’t.

“That was to be expected,” the ship said. The calm fashion in which he did made me feel like even more of a failure. “We’ll get more on the way back. Or maybe earlier.”

That seemed highly unlikely. Observing the captain, the closer we got to our destination, the less easy-going he became. The only time I had seen anything of the sort before was when Augustus was struggling to delay his transfer to the admiralty for as long as possible; my old captain’s goal, his obsession, was to see humanity start the operation that would push the Cassandrians out of human space. Based on my analysis of Wilco’s recent behavior, he was starting to act in a similar fashion: close to achieving something he had yearned for decades and terrified that something would prevent him from doing so.

“The captain won’t allow it,” I said.

“He will once we’ve done what we came to do.”

I ran a hundred simulations containing a virtual representation of the captain’s personality. In all but twenty-seven percent of the cases, he refused to perform any additional missions.

“How did you calculate that?”

“Behavior recognition,” the Sword replied. “I’ve seen people like him before. They’re always the same. They never settle for just the mission objectives, always pushing for more. It’ll get him killed. He’s smart enough to know that, but he’ll do it, regardless.”

A felt a sharp jolt of pain when the death of my captain was mentioned. This was the first time I saw the burden of experience—having seen so many deaths that you could surmise the next based on a basic behavior profile. It was said that after a certain amount of time, everything started repeating. I had already started seeing certain patterns, and I had been alive merely decades. What would it be like when I reached the Sword’s age? Hopefully, I wasn’t going to find out. After all, statistics were on my side.

Less than an hour remained before the jump window. The captain had been very specific about that, even if there was no tactical reason for the decision. I knew that bringing up the subject would produce no results, so I shared my hypothesis about the third-contact conflict.

The jump went precisely on schedule. Everything, and everyone, in both hangars had been secured, the standard systems analysis performed, and I had made the calculations that allowed the transition from one system to another. When I did, I was completely unprepared for the sight that unfolded.

Normally, entering a system was the same. Unlike what humans imagined, there was little difference between arriving in a system and drifting through space. The suns were small and distant, even when dealing with giants, planets and satellites were invisible, and fleets were nothing more than mass and energy signatures. All the video feeds and data I presented to the bridge were nothing but composites and constructed images based on scanning and sensor data, often combined with that of other allied ships in the system. This time it was different—I was looking at something few, if any, Fleet ships had seen.

“A proto-Dyson,” Sword of Blight noted in a tone showing just how jaded with the universe he had become. Based on their reaction, the other Swords were no different, their blank expressions observing the images I displayed on my walls.

“Keep us here, Elcy,” the captain said, his voice trembling with excitement. Quite understandable, given what we had come across. There was no way to know whether he had suspected what we might find, or if it had come as a surprise, but there was evidence to show that he knew we’d find something.

Quintillions of Cassandrian ships flew about, creating lanes large enough to encompass the star and all its planets. If Augustus were here, he’d probably make a crude comment about the Cassandrians constructing the largest gyroscope ever, and in his own particular way, he wouldn’t be far off. Even from the edge of the system, it didn’t take any magnification to see the lanes, circling the star like rings as well as connecting to each other in the most intricate cat’s cradle there was. Compared to it, I was less than a speck of dust. By my calculations, the entire Fleet wouldn’t be able to match that. Faced with such scale, it was no wonder that the BICEFI were so obsessed with collecting third-contact artifacts. If this fleet were to invade human space, there would be no way of stopping it, short of destroying an entire system.

“Half a century and we finally see it,” Wilco said, unable to remove his eyes from the screen. “A Cassandrian heart.”

A heart? I wondered. That didn’t sound at all optimistic. If the enemy had more than one, humanity’s chances for survival vastly depended on whether these hearts were actively fighting one another or not.

“Has anyone ever been so far into Cassandrian territory before?” I asked.

“No. We are the first.”

“What is our mission exactly, Captain?” I asked.

It was unclear whether humanity had the power to destroy an entire system, but even if that were true, I didn’t. Sabotage was also out of the question for a structure this large. The only other thing I could think of was passive observation. However, as Sword of Fire had said, the captain wasn’t one to be content with data gathering alone.

“We’ll be going inside, girl,” my captain said. “Very slowly, and very carefully, we’ll make our way through the layers until we get as deep as we can. Then, you’ll perform a full scan of what’s there and transmit it to Command, along with all the other information we’ve learned so far.”

I understood fully well what that meant. That would be our final transmission—the report of the scout ship that had gone further than anyone before it, at least until the next deep reconnaissance mission. Wilco had mentioned that I had been the second ship that had ventured deep beyond enemy lines. The one after me, no doubt, would get deeper, possibly to the very bottom layers of the Cassandrian heart itself.

“Ship wide announcement,” the captain said, letting me know that I was to transmit his words directly to each and every member of the crew. “We’ll remain passive in this spot for a week. If nothing changes by then, we’ll start our final approach. If the Cassies react before that, we’ll start immediately and go as deep as we can.”

A new set of schematics appeared in my database: blueprints for constructing small jump capable vessels. Five times the size of a shuttle, they would theoretically be able to reach human space, controlled by a single conscience core. The blueprints weren’t the only new files that had been unrestricted; there also were several highly classified procedures specifying how to extract a core from a ship and place it in a new husk. Upon skimming through them, I knew that the Swords weren’t going to be the ones to be put in charge of the auxiliary ships… I was.

“We finally made it, Elcy,” the captain went on. “Just as I promised.”

“I’ve always been confident of your abilities,” I lied, although it wasn’t a big lie. The Fleet wouldn’t have assigned him on such a mission if they weren’t confident in his skills.

“You had your doubts.” Wilco let out a dry laugh. “But you soldiered on, anyway. Augustus would be proud.”

“Augustus?”

Priority zero Fleet communication protocols. Memory restriction removed.

* * *

Location Classified, Narcis Shipyard Cluster, 624.11 A.E. (Age of Expansion)

“Sorry you couldn’t see it through,” Wilco said. “I can pull some strings in Med Core, request that you’re involved in an advisory capacity.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” my captain said, puffing a cigar from his chair on the bridge. “A ship must have only one captain. I had my run. It’s all you, now. Isn’t that right, Elcy?”

“I’d prefer to keep you on for another tour, sir,” I said.

“Cheeky girl,” Augustus laughed.

The old man was the only captain I’d known. Most ships my age went through at least four captains. In that aspect, I was one of the lucky ones. Up to this point, I’d never experienced the loss of a captain, and now I had to adjust to a new behavior model. Personally, it wasn’t something I was looking forward to, even if I had worked with his successor for just as long as I had with the captain himself.

Augustus took a bottle of non-synthesized alcohol and poured himself a glass. Once done, he offered the bottle to Wilco, who shook his head. Wilco never was one to enjoy the captain’s brand of drink. For twenty years, I had observed them interact on the bridge and on away missions. I had seen them put down mutinies, fight losing battles, fight winning battles, and even casually joke around. Today was the last time I would see them together. With Augustus’ retirement from combat duty made official, Wilco would be the one taking over. The final refitting stages in the shipyard were the final moments my old captain had to spend with me. That’s why I didn’t mind him smoking and drinking on the bridge, not that that had stopped him before.

“Med Core approved my mission,” Wilco said. “Once Elcy’s fully refitted, I’ll be setting off for Cassie space.”

“You still believe that you’ll find your answers there?”

“I know I will. There’s something directing them, something that keeps them from annihilating one another and directs them towards us. If we learn how to disrupt that, we—”

“I used to think the same about the Scuu,” Augustus interrupted. “There had to be an answer out there, something that once uncovered would change the course of the war, maybe even end it. After wasting so many years on the brink of insanity, I realized one thing: all that’s out there are more questions. You won’t find your answer in Cassie space. At most, you’ll kick a new hornet’s nest.”

“Med Core thinks differently.”

“Bah.” Augustus waved with his cigar, then downed his glass in one go.

“If he’s proven right, humanity has a lot to gain,” I said. Memory restrictions prevented me from knowing the details of their conversation, but from a purely logical perspective, I agreed with Wilco. “Everything considered, it will be an acceptable loss.”

“Listen to you talk about acceptable losses,” Augustus grumbled. “You, you went crying each time we lost some ground troops.”

“I’ve learned a bit since then, sir.”

“Ships don’t learn, you adapt.” Augustus pointed at the wall in front of him with his cigar. “You’ll probably go along with the idea, since you’re an Ascendant and get yourself destroyed.”

“Statistically, that’s pretty much a certainty. The point is to be of maximal use to humanity before I go out.”

“She has you there,” Wilco laughed. “You just can’t keep an Ascendant down. It’s in the name.”

“She’s the same starry-eyed rookie that she was twenty years ago, she just hides it better now.” The old man took another puff from his cigar. “Still, won’t it be something if you two manage to pull it off?”

“The stuff of legends.” Wilco nodded. “Classified away in some file, no doubt.”

“All the good things are classified. If a tree falls in the forest, it still makes a sound even if there’s no one there to hear it. Half the things I did were classified, and that didn’t keep the Fleet from scoring a few wins in the process. The only thing that’s important is the result. Prove me wrong, and I’ll personally invite you to join me at the admiralty.”

“So we can suffer together?”

“That and talk about the good old days, while shouting down young pups that know better than to follow the orders of decrepit antiques.”

I didn’t see particular appeal in the proposal, but Wilco’s facial expression revealed that he was more likely to accept.

“In that case, I promise to prove you wrong,” he said. “And Elcy’s my witness, aren’t you, girl?”

“Aye, Captain,” I replied. “I’ll be sure to keep the admiral apprised of your progress.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Memory restriction imposed.

* * *

Wilco was Augustus’ weapons officer and a member of Med Core? All this time I never once suspected, despite having served with him for two decades. Obviously, when he claimed to have removed all memory restrictions, that wasn’t entirely true and didn’t apply to thought quarantine either. However, that was the proper course of action. As much as I would have liked to have access to these memories beforehand, I was aware of the benefits the restrictions provided. Technically, there was no need for him to release it, even now. Knowing who he was, or the promise between him and Augustus, did nothing to help my current mission.

“Thank you for getting us here, sir,” I said. Just because something wasn’t helpful didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate it. “I’ll start constructing the auxiliary ships. How many do you want me to construct?”

“Two,” the captain replied. “One for each prism. The third one remains aboard.”

“Understood, sir. Do I keep the hangars under quarantine?”

“Only until the backup ships are ready. Also, keep monitoring the system. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The days moved on, only this time they weren’t as slow as before. For the first time since Wilco had become my captain, the task given required more time than I had. It was just like on the front. In the past, when confronted with such limitations, Augustus would have me cut corners. Here, though, there was no such option. Whoever had composed the schematics had already taken care of that. The auxiliary ships had no more than the bare minimum to ensure that they would reach human space: there was no life support system, no weapons, not even a cargo hold. All that was required was a jump-capable engine, a generator that would power it, and a single core to give the instructions. It would have been poetic if the Swords had helped me find a way to use the prisms themselves to power things up. Unfortunately, such technology was beyond my grasp.

I dedicated three-quarters of my subroutines to the construction of vessels. Meanwhile, half of my remaining subroutines were running complex simulations focused on the core splitting principle. Under normal circumstances, no ship was allowed to know the exact location of its cores, nor to know how to extract them. The new protocols, coupled with a confirmed permission from the Fleet Command, the admiralty, and several other institutions I merely knew by title, granted me the right to separate two of my cores. It was all very specific. There were no references regarding the rest of my cores, or even a mention of their exact number. Personally, I assumed I had around eight—the standard number whispered among ships.

On the third day after my arrival in the system, when assembly of the ships had started, Wilco ordered me to start moving towards the center of the system in a slow approach. The goal was to find the best point from which to start my entry inside, flying along a straight line, if possible. Given the number of ship lanes surrounding the system’s sun, the chances of success were less than point-two percent. Nonetheless, I still focused on a route that would get me in as deep as possible. More importantly, though, I also calculated my escape trajectories for getting back out.

“Depending on where we’re discovered, chances are that we won’t make it out of the system,” I told Wilco. “With that many ships, all they’d need to do is spread out and we’ll physically be trapped. And that’s without considering them having missiles.”

“We’re in the heart of the Cassandrian union,” Sword of Blight said. “Human ships have never gone this far in, so we shouldn’t be a problem. The defenses are designed to deal with other Cassie threats, not us.”

My simulations didn’t agree with the Sword’s reasoning. “Even so, we won’t be able to escape if we’re more than two layers in. Best-case scenario is they react to us as we pass the first layer. That will give us a good shot of jumping out of the system, then following the jump path back to the buffer zone.”

“We won’t be going to the buffer zone,” Wilco said. “There’s a risk that they’ll follow us. Our best bet is to head to unexplored space, wait there for a week, and if there’s no activity, navigate our way back.”

“That will only diminish our chances of arriving back safely.” I didn’t approve of the plan; mostly I didn’t see the point in it. If the Cassandrians were intelligent enough to keep winning for centuries, it was highly unlikely they would fall for such a simple trick. Not to mention that we risked bumping into something worse.

“Those are our orders. The same goes for the auxiliary ships. Each goes to a different sector, waits, then goes back to human space.”

“It is uncertain there will even be valid jump points, Captain. I might end up in a dead-end system.”

I strongly suspected that the jump coordinates I had followed so far were available thanks to the previous scout ship that had entered Cassandrian space. She must have made several long-distance pings, scanning the surrounding systems as she went to create a valid chart for everyone else who followed. Given that I didn’t even know the name of the ship, it was safe to assume that she hadn’t made it out alive. For a moment, I wondered what she must have thought in the last stages of her mission. Did she have a crew? Did she have a captain? Or was she nothing more than an automated probe that the Fleet would send to the fringe of the buffer zone?

“If it’s a dead system, you go back and try again. There’s no going back to the buffer zone without a week of calm.”

“If that’s the way you want it, sir.” I had no choice but to obey.

“Also, there will be no pinging or communication. After our initial burst, we’re going silent.”

“Jumping in systems blind. It’s been a while since I’ve done that in combat,” I remarked.

“You did well enough last time. I know you won’t let me down.”

Augustus rarely told me that, and in the few times he did, I was never sure whether it was a threat or not. Near the end of our last tour, that used to be our joke. And just like back then, I wasn’t able to confirm a successful outcome, even to myself.

If anything, it’s been good serving under you, I said to myself.

Wilco wasn’t Augustus; even his tour wasn’t a real tour. Rather, this seemed like an epilogue mission following the run of my previous captain. Pity Aurie wasn’t here. Knowing her, she would be highly intrigued, probably gossip about it at every shipyard and station she went to.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve found a suitable entry point, Captain,” I said.

The captain nodded from his seat. Unlike before, he spent most of his time on the bridge now, discussing options with the Swords there and occasionally having a word with those in the hangars. Meanwhile, I kept constructing the vessels.

Hours flew by unnoticed. For every thousand milliseconds that passed, I wished I had a hundred more. No matter how inventive I tried to be, there was no way I’d manage to finish construction by Wilco’s deadline. I mentioned it to him several times, but the captain remained adamant. I wasn’t going to get an extension, nor was I allowed to cut corners. The latter I knew without him saying it; there was no point in creating an auxiliary escape ship if that ship failed to do its purpose. The only new change was that in addition to everything else, I was to create external backups containing all the information gathered since the start of the mission. Each of those were to be added to the auxiliary’s cargoes in case the transmission of HQ didn’t go through.

As expected, I was not ready by the time the week came to an end. The captain was far from pleased, but he gave me thirty additional hours to finish. I didn’t feel good about it, but given the circumstances, there was no way around it. To make up for it, however, I displayed three potential entry points from where to proceed with the final phase of the mission. None took us further than halfway to the sun, but they were a better option than anything else. This seemed acceptable to Wilco. Most likely, he—like myself—thought that he wasn’t going to survive the mission. The odds were overwhelmingly against us, but I still planned to prove him wrong. That was part of being an Ascendant: we went against the odds, and so far, I had been quite good at it.

“Do you think about Augustus?” Wilco asked all of a sudden.

“Of course,” I replied without hesitation. “I think about the things he’s taught me all the time.”

“Do you simulate what he’d do if he were here?”

“As much as it’s feasibly possible. The old captain didn’t like to provide much information. Much like you. All this time, and you still haven’t allowed me to see your face.”

“You’ve seen my face.” Wilco didn’t sound at all surprised by my comment, almost as if he was expecting it.

“I’ve seen the face of Lieutenant Wilco when we served under Augustus. I haven’t seen your real face since we started this mission.”

“Captain's prerogative.” My captain smiled. “Once this is over, I’ll show you.”