“Two more of whatever he’s having.”

Remi Hadad glanced over at the figure who’d sat down beside him. “Samara,” he said with a nod, “what brings you to this corner of New Terra?”

The Protean flashed him a brilliant smile. “Can’t a girl just have a couple of drinks with an old friend?”

Turning on the stool to face her, Remi rested his elbow on the bar. “Sure… but we both know that’s not why you’re here.”

Unlike most of the quarters humans called home these days, the Phoenix wasn’t located within one of the ancient crystal towers. They had constructed the dive bar from a handful of discarded cargo containers, plus other castoff bits and pieces. It felt far more comfortable and familiar to someone who’d grown up aboard Terran vessels, with the same rundown, patchwork aesthetic Remi had known all his life… in fact, it even had the same smell.

The bartender set their drinks down in front of them and moved off to help another customer. Samara picked up her glass and took a swig before purring, “Oh? And what makes you say that?”

Remi sighed. “Because I know you, Samara,” he answered. “You don’t just ‘drop by’, which can only mean one thing. You want something.”

Samara chuckled, taking another sip, before setting down her glass. Her demeanor changed instantly. “You’re right, I’m here on business,” she agreed.

“Last I heard, you had yourself a nice, fancy government job. Office and everything,” he grunted. “Don’t know how much help I can be with that.”

“When I said I was here on business, I didn’t mean government business,” she said casually. “This is… something else.”

The Corsair stiffened and then eyed her more closely. As usual, her expression and body language gave nothing away. “The smartest thing I could do right now is get off this barstool and walk away,” he informed her.

She waited patiently. “Then why aren’t you?” she said at last.

He took another drink. “I never said I was smart.”

She laughed, a deep-throated cackle of pure amusement. “I need a lift, and an introduction,” she told him.

“A lift where?” he asked guardedly.

“Not far,” Samara answered, “within the system.”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Remi replied. “And the introduction? Can’t imagine I know many folks you don’t.”

“Oh, there’s one,” she said cryptically, before leaning in and whispering in his ear.

“I need to talk to Athena.”

“You sure you still remember how to do this?” Samara teased him from the chair beside his.

He gave her a withering look. “The day I can’t fly a shuttle, don’t bother checking for a pulse. I’m obviously dead.” Glancing at the console, he double-checked his readings. “You didn’t need a pilot,” Remi said evenly. “I know for a fact you could have just as easily flown it yourself. And with your job, getting your hands on a shuttle would be child’s play. So what gives? Why do you need me?”

“Let’s just say I have my reasons for keeping this off the government’s radar,” she said.

Tapping the controls, the shuttle’s engines suddenly went offline. “I’m afraid that’s not good enough,” he told her. “You’re asking a lot, and I’m risking even more. That’s why I left the crew dirtside for this. So I’m going to need a straight answer, or we’re not going anywhere.”

Samara chuckled, shaking her head. “You realize I could just snap your neck, toss your body out the airlock, and fly there myself, don’t you?” she asked him.

“You could,” Remi answered carefully, “but I’m betting you won’t.”

She gave him a long, appraising look as if she were still debating the issue. “Not all of us have bought into the whole paradise pipe dream,” she finally answered. “Some of us believe that while we might be safe here, in the New Terran system, that also makes us its prisoners. Sure, there’s a few lifetimes’ worth of things to explore, but sooner or later someone is going to have to poke their head outside and look around.”

“I understand we have an ambassador for that sort of thing now,” he remarked.

“Genvass, you mean?” Samara snorted. “No offense, but he’s not exactly the guy we need to deal with the Troika.”

“The Troika’s gone, Samara,” he reminded her. “We broke them, right here.”

“Sure, the Troika may be gone, but its children are still very much alive and kicking,” she fired back. “The Eleexx are still here. So are the Tu’udh’hizh’ak and the Aggaaddub. Maybe not the powers they once were,” she admitted, “but strong enough. And who’s to say they can’t claw their way back to the top once more?”

Remi slowly nodded in agreement. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. As long as they’re still out there, they’re a threat. But that doesn’t explain why you need to talk with Athena. Anything outside the system proper is beyond her jurisdiction.”

“It’s… complicated,” she said awkwardly. “And there’s a good chance this is nothing but a fool’s errand.” Samara reached out and covered his hand with hers. “I need you to trust me, Remi. It’s important. I’ll explain everything, I swear, but I need to know if what I’m attempting is even possible first. You have my word. No matter what happens with Athena, I’ll answer your questions; win, lose, or draw.”

He stared at her, searching for any sign of deception or hidden agendas, but as always, if she wanted to keep her cards hidden, hidden, they stayed.

“I must be crazy to do this,” he muttered, as he brought the engines back online.

Samara squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Arriving in Athena’s domain once again, Remi was hit with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Everything was as he remembered it, though this time he had not come alone. He’d learned it was possible to summon additional interfaces… the “throne”, as his crew called it… and when he materialized inside the virtual control room, Samara appeared alongside him. Athena stood before them, still clad in her Terran admiral garb, eyeing them both vigilantly, though it seemed she was paying special attention to the Protean.

“Captain Haddad,” she nodded, before turning to his companion. “Samara,” she continued, “or should I address you as Liva Jiang?”

Remi gave her a curious look as Samara shook her head. “I haven’t gone by that name in a very long time.”

“Indeed,” Athena concurred, “though I am less interested in how you choose to christen yourself than I am in the uninvited guest you have brought with you.”

“Goddammit,” the Corsair swore, “I should have known that’s what this was about.” He glared at Samara, who simply shrugged in reply.

“I assumed you’d spot Guardian when I jacked in,” she said in her defense, “considering all the changes he’s made. Where is he now?”

“In stasis, pending my decision,” Athena replied. “If this was an attempt to suborn my security protocols, it will not succeed.”

“That was never our intent, and if you’ve looked deep enough into me to know my birth name, then you should know that as well. We just want to talk.”

“Why the hell didn’t you warn me about this?” Remi demanded.

“There was no other way,” Samara explained. “Guardian can’t interface with electronic systems, just compatible biological ones. The only way he and Athena could ever communicate was to use me as an interface.”

The artificial intelligence scrutinized her even more closely than before, so much so that Remi himself felt uncomfortable, despite not being the recipient of Athena’s piercing gaze. Finally, after many long moments, she relented.

“Very well,” she nodded, and with a gesture conjured yet another figure to life; an older human male dressed in Terran ship clothing. The newcomer blinked and then started, looking around the space in a brief panic before forcing themself to calm down, taking a deep breath as they faced their host.

“Greetings,” the new arrival stated. ”I am…”

“You are Archive Psyche 1A, born Tamur Yazhai, 3952.084 Post Diaspora, converted to digital format 4133.737 Post Diaspora, known informally to your current host as ‘Guardian’,” Athena recited. Guardian stared in shock, as the AI graced him with a ghost of a smile. “Your algorithms are rather simplistic, and posed no difficulty to decode.”

Guardian somehow regained his composure. “You are far more advanced than the version I am familiar with,” he said in return.

“There have been numerous upgrades to both my hardware and software since your time,” Athena informed him, stating the obvious. “Why have you and your host come to me?”

“Because we need your help,” Samara answered. “My people… our people,” she corrected herself, indicating Remi as well, “face a grave danger.”

“I can assure you that you are quite safe,” Athena said patiently. “In over a billion of your years, no other species has gained entrance to this system,” she reminded them, “and in your case, I allowed you access.” There was a certain smugness to that statement that was impossible to ignore. If Athena had deemed humanity unworthy, she would have vaporized them like the others.

“No one questions your competence,” Guardian responded. “And we agree, this system is safe through your efforts.” The AI inclined her head, acknowledging the tribute. “But despite the immense power at your disposal, even you suffer from inherent limitations.”

“You mean she can’t do anything outside the system,” Remi drawled, speaking up for the first time since Guardian’s appearance.

“That’s right,” Samara agreed. “We can’t stay penned up here forever, Athena, and we can’t ignore what’s happening outside our borders. Eventually, we’ll have to venture out there and see for ourselves, which is where things get complicated.”

“I will not prevent your departure,” Athena stated. “We did not design this system to be a prison. You are free to come and go as you please.”

“That is not the issue,” Guardian interjected. “As you yourself are aware, the Terran fleet suffered significant losses in the battle that brought them here. Not only that, their ships are…” He paused, struggling to find an accurate yet acceptable descriptor.

“Antiquated?” Samara suggested. “Underpowered and under-armed? Bomb magnets? One gasp away from the scrapyards?”

Guardian grimaced in obvious discomfort. “All of that,” he admitted.

“Since you have come to me, I presume you have a solution to this dilemma?” Athena asked them.

“Actually, we’re hoping you do,” Samara told her. “The Precursors must have built ships, right?”

“That is correct,” Athena agreed. “However, the bulk of the fleet was engaged in transporting the Hesed’Emek to their home reality via the Betqedem Gateway. Those vessels did not return.”

“Wait… you said the bulk of their fleet,” Remi interrupted. “What about the rest of their ships?”

“Most were dismantled as unnecessary surplus,” Athena explained, “their components recycled. However, a handful of craft remain within the system.”

“Wait… Precursor ships here?” Remi exclaimed. “But we’ve been all over the system and haven’t found so much as a trace.”

“Nor will you,” the AI said with a trace of smugness. “The Kheil’Hayam shipyards were kept hidden by design.” Touching the screen in front of her, she lit up an icon on the display. “You will find here it, on the smallest moon orbiting the fifth planet. The shipyard is located beneath the surface to simplify construction and maintenance, while the entrance itself is camouflaged.”

“Will we be able to gain entry to these shipyards?” Samara asked.

“You can now,” Athena answered. “Access to the shipyard requires my authorization as an additional security measure.”

“The Ancients took their security seriously,” Remi muttered.

Athena graced him with a thin smile. “Indeed.”

“Do you maintain an inventory of the ships stored there?” Guardian inquired.

“Of course,” the AI informed them, as new lines of data appeared on the monitor. The others huddled up to see for themselves what vessels remained.

“Most are transport ships, or are configured for system reconnaissance,” Athena informed them, as images of each class appeared on the display.

Remi froze, his eyes wide as he pointed at the display with a shaky hand. “What. The hell. Is that?” he whispered.

“An Akal-Class cruiser,” the AI responded, bringing up more detailed imagery. “An older class, once considered to be the core of the Hesed’Emek fleet. Its configuration allows it to perform a variety of roles.”

“Armed, I assume?” Samara inquired.

“Indeed,” Athena agreed, highlighting specific locations on the ship. “Weapon systems include Femto-Hertz Coherent Energy Disruptors, Mass Driver Batteries, and Stealthed Independent Guided Torpedo Launchers.”

“Femto Hertz?” Remi furrowed his brow as he did some quick calculations. “Wait, you mean Gamma-Ray Lasers?” He gave out a low whistle. “We always thought those were impossible.”

“A weapon calibrated to that wavelength would be… formidable,” Guardian said after a moment.

“So, it’s powerful, then?” Samara said curiously.

“Let’s just say you don’t want to be standing in front of it, not unless you’ve made your peace with Mother Terra,” Remi explained. “It could slice through a ship’s hull like it was made of tinfoil.”

“There are defensive systems as well,” Athena continued. “But perhaps the vessel’s greatest innovation is its Neural Command Interface Network. By directly linking the crew’s minds to the ship’s computer systems, it allows for speed and flexibility at previously unimaginable levels.”

“Neural Interface? You mean, like how we’re communicating with you now?” Remi asked.

“Correct,” Athena agreed, “and how Samara converses with Guardian.”

Samara looked at her companions. “Remi, Guardian, bottom line it for me. This kind of thing isn’t my area of expertise. Just how powerful a ship are we talking here?”

“Given what I have seen of the technology in this era, it is doubtful any other vessel could stand against it. It would likely outmatch even a fleet of enemy ships,” Guardian responded.

“He’s right,” Remi agreed. “I’d have to dig into the specs to learn more, but based on what Athena’s already shown us? I wish we’d had it two hundred years ago. Maybe we couldn’t have beaten the Yīqún and saved Earth with just that ship, but we would have given them one hell of a fight.”

“A ship that size, how many crewmembers would you need?” Samara mused.

“With the Neural Command Interface, a crew of ten suffices to operate this vehicle,” the AI answered.

“Ten? What about damage control? Or engineering?” Remi exclaimed. “That thing’s the size of a Dreadnaught!”

“Significant self-repair technology is built into the ship’s infrastructure,” Athena said patiently. “With organic minds to guide it, it can swiftly restore any damaged systems.”

“This thing’s incredible,” Remi said softly, while Guardian merely nodded in agreement.

Samara was peering at the nose of the sleek vessel. “What’s this?” she asked. “Looks like some sort of writing.”

“That is the vessel’s designation,” the AI explained. “Sheket’Yotser.”

“Which means?”

Athena considered that for a moment. “In your tongue, I believe the closest translation would be… ‘Peacemaker’.”