Over the next few days, the anti-piracy scenarios continued and I was slowly managing to climb in rank in the Squadron. It was my biggest focus, even if there were a few questions lingering in the back of my mind, prompted by the interview on the Fleet Station. One was why the interview had been so focused on Commodore Ryker, was it just because he was the commanding officer on the scene, or rather because he was my direct commanding officer and thus the only one I could possibly comment on? Or was there something more going on. My gut told me it was something more, mainly because of the strange question the civilian had asked me at the end, about something called Void Guard. But I doubted I would get useful answers by asking, so I focused on my training.

And the focus paid off, every other day, I managed to achieve a higher performance rating than one or two of the regular pilots, making me flush with pride. At the same time, Commodore Ryker and the other two pilots of Wing 3 made sure that I wasn’t getting overconfident, continuously pointing out where I was going wrong. After a particular good performance on my end, Commodore Ryker asked me to join him in his office.

After making me sit, he started to speak. “Twitch, I don’t think I need to tell you that you are starting to become a seriously dangerous pilot. Your instincts are excellent and the only thing that you need now, is more experience.” he told me, sounding quite pensive.

“Thank you, Sir.” I responded, adding the honorific automatically, without even thinking about it.

“I told you, call me Manta. The only reason I’ve got a higher rank than you is that I’ve been doing this longer. I have no doubt that, barring any extraordinary circumstances or personal choice, you’ll have your own Squadron or become the Flight-Boss for a carrier.” he waved me off, giving me another major compliment. I wanted to object, to tell him that I wasn’t a good leader but never had a chance when he continued to speak. There was just no way I would interrupt him, so I had to let it stand.

“Anyway, what I wanted to give you is this.” he reached into his desk and pulled out a tablet handing it over to me.

“What is that, Si… Manta?” I asked, not quite sure why he was handing me a tablet instead of sending me the relevant data-files.

“There is an unofficial collection of intelligence, handed down amongst Starfighter-Pilots, a legacy if you will. While I’m certain that the various spooks know about it and undoubtedly have a copy, there is a bit of tradition involved, a superior officer handing a copy to a promising, younger pilot. Another part of the tradition is that it is not fed into the network but copied from an unconnected tablet to another unconnected tablet via a direct connection. Now, I’m giving you this copy and the words that were passed on to me, back when I was given my original tablet.” he explained, his voice solemn. It was another tradition that felt a little strange to me but at the same time, I could see and hear that it was important to him, so I stood, giving him a very respectful salute, holding it while waiting for him to continue.

He smiled at my actions, standing up in turn, pulling himself up to his full height, projecting all the command-authority I could ever want to have.

“Pilot, today you receive the Knowledge of those who came before you. Collected from the early days, when Humanity was just leaving behind the Sol-System, heading out into an unknown, endless Void, it is now given to you. Read the thoughts of those who have gone before you, learn the lessons they paid for in blood and remember the solemn duty we carry.” he paused for a moment before continuing.

“We guard Humanity amongst the stars, we are the first who are called to battle and we will answer the call, proudly stand against humanities enemies. Stand proudly, Guardian, and brave the Black Sky as your predecessors did.” he finished, striking his own chest in salute.

A moment passed before he lowered his arm and gestured for me to sit again.

“Normally, I would invite you for a drink to complete the ceremony but we are under readiness conditions, so I can’t do that. Additionally, I want you to understand something. The legacy on that tablet is something akin to sacred, passed down over hundreds of years, with every holder adding their own thoughts and memoirs. But while you are asked to add your own perspective, you are asked to respect the thought of those who came before you and not edit them, even if you disagree or think that they are factually wrong. Our perspective might have changed but we have no right to change their words to fit us. I hope you will respect that.” he explained and it finally sunk in just what I was holding.

If what he said was correct then I was holding essentially an unedited record of history, without any revisions, memories of people that had been dead for hundreds of years. I had been aware that the way people looked at and recorded history was often through the lense of public perception and social acceptance, with powerful corporations and the Government adding their own perspective, causing what was considered to be facts to shift over time.

“Again, thank you. I will honour the legacy you have passed onto me.” I said, after swallowing a lump in my throat.

“It is the right thing to do and Commodore Ming, with whom I originally received the legacy agrees with me.” he replied before stopping for a moment.

“Another thing, while I don’t think I need to ask you, I would rather ask you without need than not ask you and be wrong about it. I would ask that you don’t pass on the legacy before you command your own Squadron. You can record and add your experience before hand but please, don’t pass it on early. Part of the legacy is a responsibility to see it both guarded and passed on to people who will guard Humanity once we passed on.” he explained and I nodded, knowing that I shouldn’t even mention this to anyone until I was ready to pass it on.

“Read it at your leisure, it will take you a while.” he smiled, before dismissing me, telling me that he would see me during the next simulator-session.

I left the office and instantly looked for a good spot to get a glimpse at what I had. Deciding to simply sit in the briefing room for a bit, I went there and sat down, the room empty other than me.

When I first activated the tablet, it asked me to set a password, a simple string of letters or number that would allow me future access. I had to smile at such an archaic method of data-security but then, if it was tradition, maybe it was from back when the legacy I was holding had first been established. After setting the password, it asked me to place a finger at a small taster-port that allowed it to collect a microscopic tissue-sample. That allowed for a much higher security even if it wasn’t perfect, tissue could be replicated in a lab without too much trouble and pretty much everything about my body was on file, ever since I had received the headware that allowed me to pilot a modern Starfighter. Once it was my turn to pass on the legacy, I might add some feature to lock the tablet I was putting it on directly to a pilot’s headware, that way, only pilots could receive it.

But for now, I had some reading to do.

What I saw first was an introduction, from the pilot who had begun the legacy, some thousand years earlier, before Humanity had even switched to the universal calendar we were using now. There was a brief description of the world he had been living in, before humans had left their solar system and reached for the stars. There had been colonies in the Sol system but nothing more. Still that pilot, who called himself an astronaut, had decided to start gathering the memories of those who had come before him, starting with the biography of a man named Juri Gagarin who had lived almost three-hundred years before the original writer.

I needed a few seconds and a search on my tablet to check the name and realise that it had been the first human to ever leave Earth and go to space. That made the realisation of what I was holding sink in, a legacy, passed down from superior to subordinate, going back almost one-thousand three-hundred years.

It was nothing short of breathtaking.