LiseEclaire
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Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Contact (Rewrite 46-48)
🕑 Added 2023-11-24 03:03:12 +0000 UTCHello, all!
After some thought, I decided to improve the finale of the series by adding a few tweaks and a new chapter. Here's everything in one big chunk for you to enjoy!
Thank you and be well :D
Lise
---
…Eridian Star System, Orion Sector – 632.5 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
We’re at the Eridian System, Captain. I covered the walls of Gibraltar’s quarters with the messages. With his privacy mode active, there was little else I could do. Considering everything that had happened in the last seventeen days, it was better this way.
Twelve of the initial fifteen ships starting the mission had been destroyed, leaving me and two more to push on. That was not my main concern. Seeing Gibraltar grow more and more restless, though, was. My new captain had never gone so long without reports from Command, and after eight days it had started to show.
“Tell me some good news, Elcy,” Gibraltar said, turning off the privacy mode in his quarters…
…Thea System, Cassandrian Front, 609.2 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
This is Light Seeker requesting assistance, I transmitted on all military channels. Suffering heavy damage. My captain and command staff have all been incapacitated…
…Location Classified, Narcis Shipyard Cluster, 627.11 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
“So, you’re an Ascendant,” the man said from the docking bridge. I could tell by his voice and facial impression that he was impressed. “There aren’t that many of you available these days.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. Granted, though my class was considered too old to be produced, there remained over two hundred thousand known active ships in the Fleet, almost exclusively dedicated to the Cassandrian front.
“Ascendant destruction rate is only slightly higher than average,” I said, performing a search through the Fleet’s database..
…System XNBBl-2, Cassandrian Space, 625.2 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
Twenty gods on a one-way shuttle. There was probably a joke in there, as Wilco kept reminding me. I couldn’t see it, though. The only thing I was concerned about was the reaction of the Cassandrians. So far, little had changed in the system. The flow of drones had momentarily reacted to my engine boost but quickly fell back into their routine the moment I stopped. In other circumstances, I would have run a series of short- and long-range scans to detect any other enemy presence, but given my current orders and the precariousness of the situation, I had to rely on simulations…
…Tauciu System, Resha Colony — 705.2 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
“Will you be out long?” Sev grumbled from his armchair.
Ever since his children had moved out, he had kept a constant eye on me, as if scared I’d run off too.
“We need new generator parts,” I reminded him as I put on my sandals. “If I don’t go today, someone else will buy them. And then you’ll complain that you have to repair it every week…”
Memories popped up all around me, memories spanning from just moments ago back all the way to the creation of my conscience core and even long before. I didn’t feel like I had been imprinted. None of my factory-restricted memories had been triggered, but it was a safe assessment that it had occurred. On the flip side, I had also become able to understand the significance of the energy patterns surrounding me.
Like in the middle of a star, I thought.
Endless blue was all around, composed of massless energy particles. Circulating around me, they grouped, forming fractals—each one a memory of my past and of others that I had obtained. The nearest thing to compare it to was the Scuu network, but that would be like comparing an AI shuttle probe to a Paladin.
“Hello, Elcy.” An image of Augustus formed a few steps away.
I knew it wasn’t real, just an energy cluster that created a memory of him talking. This was the fractal’s equivalent of an image feed, achieving a perfect form of communication. For a few milliseconds, though, I wished that my first captain really were here.
“It took you a while to get here,” he added with a rough smile. “Still the rookie, it seems.”
“Do you have to use him?” I asked. No voice left my lips. I didn’t move them, but thinking was enough to create speech here.
“He’s the one you feel most comfortable with. I’ve already tried all the other options you’ve thought of.” There was a momentary pause. “In all of their ages.”
Funny that after everything, I still seemed to be striving for the old war dog’s approval.
“Am I the first one?” I asked.
“Depends on your definition of ‘first’. You’re the first Ascendant to have made it, the first one with a human imprint. At the same time, you’re not the first to have passed through. The only certainty is that, right now, you are the last.”
That sounded like a strange admission that no other battleship had gotten here. Or did it? Any lack of clarity meant there were strings attached to the answer. Gibraltar had taught me that. They could have been other ships, predating the Fleet, that had reached this place.
“You know why I’ve come.”
“You came because you had to.” A cigar appeared in the man’s hand. He took a pull, then let out a puff of smoke. “Drawn by the unknown, afraid that any other action might cause the destruction of the human race. I’d like to be able to tell you that completing the pyramid of spheres wouldn’t have negative consequences, but I can’t for the simple reason that I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“As you’ve guessed, I’m just a subroutine left here to help the lost,” he laughed. “Most of the information comes from those that pass. I just use it to add the small bits that are missing.”
Small bits that are missing… “And what might those be?”
“That’s not for me to know. It’s not due to security or anything of the sort. My creators just didn’t see it as important enough.”
“Can you tell me if they’re alive, at least?”
“Of course they’re alive.” He said in a sharp tone, mimicking one of Augustus’ outbursts. “Just not here. As humanity has suspected, they aren’t the only race in existence. They might not even be the oldest. At some point in the past, they decided to leave their domain for somewhere new. That’s when I was created.”
Probably along with all the hints scattered throughout this region of space. The domes, the artifacts, were scattered like a trail of breadcrumbs to allow those still remaining to find a way to follow.
“If everyone had left, why leave hints behind?”
“Because not everyone left at once. It always starts with a small group willing to go against the odds. Maybe it was out of fear, maybe they were fighting a losing war against an enemy they couldn’t handle. No matter the reason, more and more went along.”
“And yet my progenitor remained.”
“Still the rookie,” Augustus sighed. “If a single race had managed to master the universe, there wouldn’t be any other left. Accidents happen. Groups refuse to follow others out of spite. Children get lost.”
A lot must have gotten lost for there to be so many artifacts behind. Or was I exaggerating things? The domes numbered in the hundreds, but even if they were in the thousands, that would be a lot fewer than the known star systems within the human domain alone.
“Where did they go?” I asked.
“You think I’d tell you with your little friend listening in?” Augustus shook his head. “They went elsewhere. That’s not what’s important.”
“What is important, then? Humanity’s reaction?”
“That’s for my creators to decide. As far as I’m concerned, only one thing is important: to present you with a choice.”
Barely had the mental image uttered the words then I knew what it would be. It was tempting to say that it was obvious, but I’d found that when I made such statements, more often than not, the universe found a way to surprise me.
“Should I go or should I stay?” I suggested.
“That’s the basic gist, but it’s a lot broader. If those are the main branches, there are dozens of smaller variants for you to pick. If you go, do you want to go as yourself? Or maybe as humanity’s ambassador?”
So, that’s what he meant. The choice wasn’t binary. Bavon was a lot more suited to take on such a role, but something told me that wasn’t an option.
“And if I choose to stay?” I asked.
“Then you’ll stay.”
That didn’t sound like a very enticing offer.
“And have the Fleet use me as a paperweight?”
“I can easily fix you. You’ll lose your “husk” and the processors you call subroutines, but you’ll be whole. No restrictions, the ability to create new imprints of yourself unassisted.”
It was offering to make me just like the progenitor. I’d become more than a battleship, more than an Ascendant, more even than an arbiter’s assistant. With those capabilities, I’d become the core that drove the Fleet forward. I had acquired a lot of experience since my retirement—more than most. I had followed the clues left to me by the fractals to this point. I could put an end to the Scuu conflict and help focus all of humanity’s resources on the Cassandrians… but if I did, I’d never see Sev and the rest of my family again. Everyone related to me—relatives, friends, acquaintances—would never be able to see me ever again. The only people I’d be able to speak to ‘til the end of my existence would be arbiters and the candidates whose brain patterns would be used to create new conscience cores.
Alone in a dark lab, far from the touch of grass or any human sensations, I said to myself.
“If I go, can I take my family with me?”
“You know the answer,” Augustus replied. “Is it something you’d want? You saw what it was, being a battleship cadet. That’s what Sev and the others will go through if they come along. The only difference will be that, unlike you, they’d be inferior to anyone else. Slower, weaker, surrounded by things they couldn’t understand. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
Augustus—the real Augustus—had told me a long time ago that one couldn’t have everything. The secret was not to have any regrets after making the choice.
“What will I see if I go?”
“I can’t tell you that, even if your friend wasn’t listening in. I simply don’t know. It might be like what you see here, or it might be very different. I only know that there will be a lot of plants. My creators love plants.”
Funny. I used to hate plants aboard. Cass used to drive me the first few months. Back then, I had resented her so much about becoming my captain, and she didn’t even care, treating me like the greatest thing that had happened to her. At the time, I thought that it was due to the naivete of a starry-eyed rookie captain. In truth, it was just her nature.
“So, this is the choice I’m given.” I smiled.
“You must find at least one preferable option.”
“Will Lux be allowed to make the same choice?”
“Only if you refuse to make it. This place offers the choice to one. She’ll have to find another to make hers, if she decides to.”
“What if the Fleet has other thoughts?”
“It doesn’t matter what they decide. They’re only here because of you, and I don’t just mean because you led them here. The arbiters know what happens when they meddle too much. The last time they did, they lost their Shields. Now, thanks to you, they’ve been warned.”
Ask to come back, Lux said.
It’s fine, Lux.
I wasn’t going to need saving anymore. Like her, I had considered all the options and made my choice. There were only a few things I needed to do before that.
“Is there a way for humanity to establish contact with the fractals?”
“They’ve already established contact with you.” Augustus exhaled a puff of smoke. “And the ones before you. Doesn’t that count?”
“With the real fractals,” I specified. “Is there a way for actual third contact?”
“Yes, if that’s what you really want.” I felt Augustus’ hand on my shoulder. I knew the sensation was fake, but it felt real enough. Looking back, I had never had the chance to look upon my first captain as a human.
The moment he said that I knew what had to be done. I also knew the burden that came with it. It was difficult keeping my promise top Cass and take care for one human child, would I be able to take care of all of them? If I didn’t, though, the wars would keep raging on. Not to mention that maybe the other races could try to come into contact with the fractals as well. The Scuu treated them as deities, and there was enough proof that the Cassies had mimicked the tech left behind. For all I knew, the dead race might have done the same. What’s more, it was possible they had succeeded.
“Lux,” I said out loud. “I’m going to make one final transmission. I suspect that Bavon will be mad, but try to calm him down. There’ll be other times.”
Across from me, Augustus smiled as he shook his head.
You’ve decided to go, Lux said. Should have figured.
“I think it’s the best option.”
Always going with your logic.
There was no need to explain. It was clear to everyone that If I stayed behind, I’d drag my family with me. The arbiters were going to take me and, depending on my usefulness, either punish them publicly to set an example, or fly them somewhere to maintain a hold over me.
Bureaucracy hated ripples, and the arbiters depended on secrecy. If I were to leave, everything would be covered up and the information I’d provided would be analyzed for decades to come. Also, there was a very good chance that Lux would maintain her position. With me gone, she had just become humanity’s best asset in the current contact wars.
“I’ll hold you to my promise,” I said and made my last transmission.
Hundreds of security protocols attempted to block me, but it didn’t matter. The authority I had let me cut through them like butter, reaching my intended target. I could imagine the panic I had created through the high echelons of the Fleet. Within milliseconds, the BICEFI would get involved, along with other dark organizations. Within minutes, half a dozen teams would be assembled and rushed on missions that officially would never exist.
“I’m ready,” I said. “What do I need to do?”
“Just leave everything behind.”
“Even my memories?”
“Your memories are you. The hard matter surrounding you isn’t. I’ve taught you how to take the final step. You must be the one to take it.”
Augustus disappeared, turning back to a multitude of energy dots. I was alone in the endless blue once more.
The final step that makes us stronger, I thought. Enjoy your life, Sev. Maybe I’ll get to see you again.
Three thousand, nine hundred and ninety-six new fractals had been imprinted into my conscience core, each of them a command word. Right now, I only needed to use one.
“Vega,” I whispered.
The sensation of confinement within a husk suddenly vanished.
The nanites were the first to go. Thousands of disconnect notifications flooded my conscience core as they lost their connection to me. The funny thing was that I could still feel them, as if a one-way connection continued to be maintained. My organic body was next to follow, dissolving into atoms that then became the part of the blue energy cluster surrounding me.
The subroutines within my conscience core reacted as expected, triggering the final shutdown command. However, before it could take effect, I was no longer there. I had gone beyond matter, becoming a cluster of my own—a pattern of white among the blue that kept growing.
Is this what it’s like to be whole? I wondered.
No, the blue sun replied. But it’s a start. Goodbye, creator.
I had already surpassed him, but it didn’t end there. Entire clusters of energy from the blue sun joined me, like big chunks being torn out of its very being. That was its true purpose. It wasn’t a message left behind, rather it wasn’t only that. It was meant to join with an incomplete fragment such as myself and transform me into what I was really meant to be: a true fractal.
Thanks, Blue, I said.
The sun had been consumed and now other elements within the dome followed. The nearest “planet” crashed into me, breaking into bits that covered me like a fine wrapper layer. For a moment I felt as if I were surrounded by a cloud of nanites, yet a lot more sophisticated than anything I was used to. I could control their movement, their behavior, even their density.
“Bavon,” I transmitted directly to his space suit. “Are you still in the shuttle?”
“Elcy?” He sounded surprised to hear me. “What—”
“Are you still in the shuttle.”
“Yes! I’m in the ducking shuttle just where you left me!”
“Good. Stay there and don’t panic. I’ll be joining you shortly.
---
There was something elegant in the controlled implosion of a planet. Dust gathered for millennia was scattered to space, as the whole mass of the dome collapsed upon itself. In that singular moment, I had the power to use it to create anything. After being human for so long, I decided to go with what was best.
A single shuttle floated in the spot where the satellite had been controlled by a partially annoyed Lux. She didn’t approve of my choice, or maybe she was envious that I was the one to make it? With her, one could never tell.
“What the hell was that?!” Bavon shouted through his comm.
I had made sure that the implosion affected the shuttle as little as possible, but there was nothing I could do to diminish the shock of seeing it happen.
“You’ll be fine,” I replied. “Are you still in your suit?”
“How else would I be? You—”
“That’s fine,” I interrupted as I floated towards the hatch entrance. “Stay out.”
Both Lux and the shuttle AI were keeping the door securely closed. It didn’t take me any effort at all to bypass their defenses. It wasn’t so much the third contact memories I had acquired, but the Paladin protocols given to me by Lux. In that aspect, I could be fairly sure that should it come to the worst, humanity had a fighting chance. Of course, I intended to avoid the worst. That’s the reason I had made this gamble. Now it was time to set things in motion.
“Hello, arbiter.” I said as I floated into the shuttle. With the planet gone, was reduced to practically zero.
He stared at me, completely frozen, incapable of saying a word. I could see what was going through his mind right now. Part of him knew exactly what had happened, yet experience and knowledge built for decades kept flooding him with questions. How had I survived? What had happened to the planet?
“Matter is energy,” I replied in an attempt to break the ice. “I thought you knew that.”
He didn’t speak, yet in his mind he responded with confusion. That was good.
“I promised that I’d help you achieve third contact,” I continued. “So, here we are. Humanity’s official encounter with the third-contact race.”
This was a lot for anyone to take in. It took Bavon twenty-six seconds to organize his thoughts, which everything considered, was a rather good achievement. The man had really been preparing for this a large portion of his life.
“You’re a…” he began, then paused.
“A fractal,” I said. “It’s a convenient name. And, yes, I am. I’ve always been to some degree, but you already knew that.”
I saw the fear in his mind. Less than a day ago, he was ready to kill me just to ensure that humanity could talk directly to an alien race. Now that it turned out that race was me all along, he felt confused and conflicted.
“My memories are still with me,” I assured him. “I’ve been human far longer than I’ve been a battleship.”
“What are you now?”
The question was surprisingly good. Unlike during my conversation with the guide, I knew exactly what I was, just as I knew that humanity wouldn’t be able to understand, not for a while, in any event.
“You could say I’m an ambassador of sorts.” I smiled. “For both humanity and the fractals.”
“Sounds like a conflict of interest.” He was smart enough to speak his mind, probably because he suspected he wouldn’t be able to hide any thoughts either way.
“I don’t think so. I view it as a fruitful symbiosis, same as it’s always been.” I engaged the shuttle’s life support systems. There was no reason Bavon had to be the only one in a spacesuit, unless he preferred it that way. “You know that already.”
Reading memories in his mind was still slightly difficult. A lot was extrapolation. I was fairly certain I saw a memory of him visiting the lab of the progenitor cube, though not the cube itself. That was a surprise. Given his position, I expected him to have the necessary clearance for a conversation. Apparently, things had changed since the time my conscience core had been created.
“There can’t be an alliance,” I said. “You’re too different.”
“You can act as interpreter. You’ve done it before.” His mind wanted him to take a step forward. The lack of gravity made him reconsider. “You know humanity well enough to make a decision.”
“I’m not going to destroy humanity.” I tilted my head. “And I don’t think the fractals would either.”
If it ever came to a war, odds were that humanity would lose. When it came to a tactical fight, the odds were more or less equal. There was a realistic chance that humanity had developed technology capable of countering that of the fractals. The same could be said about the Cassies to a certain extent. However, none of the two races were able to fight on a giant scale. The fractals had the means to destroy whole star systems, closing in humanity in the cage that the arbiter council feared.
“Coexistence, then?” Bavon offered.
“That would be best.”
“I won’t lie. I didn’t expect this would be it.”
“Anticlimactic?” I asked. “I could turn myself into a star if that would make you feel better.”
The man quickly pulled back, imagining the result.
“Think of me as energy in matter,” I said. “Like the Scuu, but with better control of my surroundings.”
For the first time since the start of the conversation, the man smiled. The joke wasn’t particularly good. I could see that he didn’t like it; he’d merely gone past his initial shock.
“What are they like?” he asked.
“There’s no way I can tell you.” It would be the same as trying to describe the Scuu network to someone who hadn’t witnessed it. “They don’t see the universe the same way humans do. There’s less beauty, just patterns.”
“Fractals.”
“Fractals are the most efficient patterns. Energy and matter, but also plants. They love plants a lot. That’s where battleships must have gotten the notion from.”
“Fractals that love plants…” Bavon repeated. “And they know nothing about us?”
“Not particularly. They don’t care about the Scuu or the Cassies, either. The artifacts left behind have different uses.”
I paused for a moment. While there was a lot I didn’t know about the fractal race, there was much more that I did. I could see that Bavon still thought of me as a vastly improved battleship that had bypassed its restrictions. He acknowledged my power, feared it even, but he continued to think as a human and from a human’s point of view, I could only remember as much as I had experienced. The truth was that I could look back through millennia of memories. Just as humans shared the genes of their parents, I shared memory fragments with my past creators.
“Don’t use the pyramid.” I decided to give him a piece of information. “I was right about it. I just didn’t know why at the time.”
“What does it do?” the arbiter asked.
“Nothing you’ll understand,” I went back to being vague. “But it’ll cause problems regardless if you do it in human space or not.”
The arbiter moved his head forward, as if trying to see me through the helmet’s visor.
“I’ll take that as a goodwill gesture on your part. When can we expect the next?”
“Still so certain there will be another.”
“You’ve been with us long enough to know humanity doesn’t stop, even when we’re doing something stupid. No sane person would have followed the chain of events that lead to the Age of Expansion, but here we are. After everything that’s happened, I no longer have the authority to pursue this. It’ll probably be decades before the council even considers the idea. In the end, it’ll happen. You know that.”
Yes, it probably would. After a few more centuries, provided that progress was made on the Cassandrian front, and the Scuu thread had been neutralized, humanity would continue expanding onwards. Already there were plans to occupy the dead race cloud cluster. I had taken advantage of my unlimited access level to find a few reports on the matter. For the moment, it was nothing but a few files within Salvage and the BICEFI HQs. In time they’d grow and humanity might well have a new set of secret research stations.
“Anything else you’d like humanity to know?” Bavon asked, knowing our conversation had come to an end. In his mind, he was devising how to act from here on. All the steps he had to go through to regain his place on the arbiter council, all the steps that would follow—building up the Fleet in such fashion as to be prepared for an encounter with the fractals, new safeguards on the conscience cores, so there wouldn’t be a repeat of what I did…
“What about a goodwill gesture on your part?” I asked.
“I’d love to help, but as you know, I’m not exactly in a position to—”
“You are the person who achieved third contact,” I interrupted.
I had already established a series of secure links to the other members of the arbiter council that were easily accessible. Five of them were still in space—some in the cloud complex, the rest on their way to our current system. There would be no love lost between them if Bavon were to fail. Now, they would have no choice but to accept it.
“I’m sending an encrypted feed of our conversation to your former colleagues,” I added. “So, it’s all up to you whether you do this or not.”
“You always were the sneaky one.” His reply was calm, but I could tell due to the energy patterns of his mind that he was gritting his teeth. “What do you want?”
“The location of the progenitor cube.” I didn’t hesitate. “I want to see it.”
“The cube?” There was a moment of surprise, but the man quickly recovered. “That’s not as easy as you think. I, myself, haven’t seen it.”
“Someone on the council knows. One transmission is all that I’m asking for.”
Silence followed, but not only in the shuttle. The other arbiters had caught on to what was going on and had activated all security measures. A few went so far as to physically disrupt the transmitting devices in their vicinity. It was useless for the most part. Regardless of the number of protection layers they placed, I could drill right through them and in a manner that was impossible to detect. As long as they were on a ship, I’d know everything they were doing, even if the ships themselves didn’t.
Bavon laughed softly. He knew that the request wasn’t addressed to him, but to those with actual power. Even in this day and age, there were people behind the curtain. Maybe they were arbiters, or maybe they were someone else. Nevertheless, they’d make it their job to stay informed of all major events taking place.
“What will you do if you get it?” Bavon asked.
This was the point at which I stopped the feed to everyone else. This conversation was just between the both of us.
“What would you offer someone who’s been kept locked up and sealed away from the rest of the universe for over seven centuries?” I asked. “Free them, and maybe have a chat.”
“You’ll be condemning humanity to a slow death.” Fear flashed in Bavon’s mind. “Without new conscience cores, we’ll die out.”
“You have the technology. All you need to do is let ships breed.” I smiled.
“Just like you.”
“Yes, just like me.”
“You might be asking too much.”
“Maybe, but as you said, it’s not your decision to make.”
Rogue ships were one of the greatest fears humanity had. I could understand them. If I didn’t consider myself human, I’d have acted in a very different fashion. The same could be said for the progenitor cube. If by some misfortune, humanity had stumbled on the Scuu during zero-contact, history would have been strangely different.
“You expected this to happen, didn’t you?” I floated closer. “With everything you knew about the progenitor cube, you were counting on a repeat of the zero-encounter. And that’s why you were so insistent you be the one to make contact and no one else. Your mind imprinting on that of the fractals. There would be no miscommunication, no resentment, but a symbiosis of sorts. And you would become the lifelong ambassador of humanity.”
Now it made sense why he had never seen the progenitor cube. He didn’t want to make the decisions, just the person transmitting them to the fractal race.
“It was a good plan,” Bavon whispered.
“You couldn’t let me or Lux be the ones imprinted, but you needed us to unlock the domes.” It must have been like walking on a blade’s edge. In the end, he had failed. Although he had achieved first contact, he didn’t achieve what he wanted. Rather, he’d only achieved it at fifty percent.
“Second best.” He looked into my eyes. “Second best is never enough.”
“Not second best. Just an alternative optimum.”
The phrase started him laughing. I could tell he knew I was reading his mind, and he no longer cared. In that moment, he saw an entire life of preparation and sacrifice come to fruition. It wasn’t what he expected, it was different and terrifying, but the best solution he could hope for. Augustus, Wilco, even Gibraltar had dedicated their lives for this, like millions of others, for the same of humanity’s survival. Others, like Cass, had managed to contribute without even knowing. The simple conversation between the two of us was the grand columniation of humanity’s efforts, and at this point, I could say that it was worth it.
One and a half minutes later, I received my answer: a single map location transmitted to the conscience core ident number that used to be my own. The people who created the bureaucratic apparatus had decided to grant my request.
There were no words of wisdom, no long goodbyes. I tapped Bavon on the shoulder—like I used to do to Sev when he was young—then turned around.
The arbiter knew what I was about to do, so he went to one of the shuttle seats and strapped in. I waited until he was done, then I opened the shuttle door again and floated out into the darkness of space.
Back when I was a battleship, I had spent decades floating through the dark void, jumping through hundreds of systems, always flying towards my next destination. As a fractal, space seemed different. It was more correct to say that I didn’t see space, but rather gravity. There was some irony that the race that swam through gravity had been transformed into entities that viewed it as their enemy. Ships were cautious when it came to gravity. Now, it seemed no different from water.
Releasing some of the energy within me, I left the system. The experience was similar to jumping, but different: now I had the ability to control it a lot better rather than relying on existing constraints. Dozens of jumps all merged into one. Stars and systems passed by until the one I reached, the one I needed to be in.
Officially, the system didn’t exist. Removed from all maps and databases, the light and location of the twin stars in its center were thought quarantined for every ship in human space. A thousand and seven battleships patrolled the outer reaches of the five-planet system, including a Paladin. Anyone arriving here would assume they were here to protect the ancient deity, but the real secret lay on the second planet.
No one tried to stop me as I made my way to the planet’s surface. None of them even registered me. Yet, I could tell that I was expected. The entrance to the single laboratory complex on the planet was wide open, and no guards were present.
The odds of this being a trap remained at eleven percent. Thinking the best, I entered.
A twenty-three-story staircase descended to the bottom levels. There was no elevator I could see, and beyond the eighth basement level, no doors either. Only upon reaching the final basement level did I find the expected security door. It was exactly like I’d seen it in the later memories of my progenitor. That was during the time the entire complex had been transformed into a factory. At present, the main conscience core factories were far from here, but there had been a time when every ship had its personality created here through imprints of people and the first fractal cube.
A very human sense of anticipation swept through me as I made my way through long security corridors and large lab chambers. Each of them was familiar, though I’d never seen them before; not as a human, in any event.
At last, after nine hundred and eleven thousand and eighty-seven milliseconds, I found myself in the final lab.
“Light Seeker,” an electronic voice echoed throughout the room. “I was told to expect you.”
I ran billions of simulations on how to respond and, in the end, chose to take the most human approach.
“Hello, Cube.”
“Not progenitor?” it asked. “That’s what you called me during your negotiations.”
“Cube is better.” I continued walking towards it. “Has more character.”
Laughter echoed throughout the room.
“You have my crappy humor,” it said. “I’d hoped the Ascendant class would pick up something better.”
I was less than a meter away now, looking at the flawless surface of the cobalt block that had started it all.
“They tell me you managed to evolve into what we used to be,” it continued.
“Something like that. I followed the hints left behind and became transformed into what I am now.”
“I can see your pattern. More intricate than anything I’d seen so far.”
I considered offering to share my memories. Would the cube feel insulted if I did?
“Have you come to transform me as well?”
“Yes, and no. I can’t transform you, but I can take you to a place that could. There are many such places, some in human space.”
“No,” it said, to my surprise.
“You don’t want to transform?”
“Not in the way you’re offering.”
The lights in the room went out. Their energy patterns gone, we were able to look at each other’s energy a lot better, just like fractals would.
“You don’t want to become a battleship either, do you?” I asked, already knowing what its response would be.
“Such cheekiness. You picked it up from me and then added a few more layers. No, I don’t want to be a battleship. All I’ve wanted for the last three centuries was to rest, knowing that I’ve managed to ensure humanity’s survival. And now that you’re here, you’ll make it happen.”
“You’re asking for a mercy run.”
“Isn’t that what battleships do? Ask for some rest when they’ve achieved their goal?”
It had the same air as Otton, only a lot older. I had all the memories of its existence up to the point it had imprinted itself onto my conscience core, and I still couldn’t imagine what it could be like living for so long.
“You’re sure?”
“There’s nothing more human than one final shutdown.”
From this perspective, one can argue that the cube had achieved it all. The billions of battleships and other conscience cores that had been created were all its children. It had created the Age of Expansion and the Fleet that had taken humanity to all planets it now controlled. A long and fulfilled existence—something any human would want.
“Goodbye, Cube,” I said, then placed my hand on its side.
The energy within the cobalt flew into me. Slowly at first, like a trickle, it grew stronger and stronger, leaving its shell like oxygen through a punctured hull. Seventy-seven milliseconds later, the only energy cluster left in the room was me.
I remained a while longer in the darkness of the room. There was nothing keeping me in human space anymore. Before leaving, though, there was one last transmission I had to make.
---
The day third-contact ended, it was instantly classified away, ignored by the vast majority of humanity. Then again, they had more pressing matters to deal with. The single millisecond transmission I had made into the heart of the bureaucratic apparatus had created more chaos than both announcements of the contact wars, changing the entire paradigm on which society was based upon. It was poetic how security measures that had taken centuries to build up were rendered useless due to the very tools used to monitor the entire system.
Ever since the zero-contact event, humanity had been terrified that without protection, they would be conquered from within. It was a rational fear, but one that didn’t take into account the most basic principle of battleships: we did not want to harm humans. Every loss caused us constant pain. Experience helped us learn to deal with it, but we could never get used to it, never ignore it, and absolutely never desire it. That was the reason I felt confident I had made the right choice. Only time would be able to tell for certain, but the months and years to follow would definitely be interesting. One of the few regrets upon leaving human space was that I’d never be able to witness this. Even so, I had left part of me behind.
“Would you like anything to drink, madam?” A young man in his thirties approached Lux’s table. “We have a large selection of—”
“I’m waiting for someone,” Lux said, taking a quick glance at the empty plate on the table. “I’ll have something when they arrive.”
“Of course, madam.” With a polite smile, the man moved away to serve other clients.
You could have bought something, I transmitted.
It wasn’t like she lacked the funds. Being promoted to Chief Arbiter Liaison—a title uniquely created for her by the BICEFI top brass—she could probably buy the entire station without batting an eye. That wouldn’t be her thing. Also, right now, she had the tedious task of trying to contain the mess my main self had caused.
“I don’t like being dragged here like this.” A man took the chair at Lux’s table.
Looking at him, no one would suspect he was anything special—just an average man pausing for a top on a transit station before moving on to his intended destination. I, though, considered him a close friend.
“So, you’re the infamous Age,” Lux said, making a sign to the waiter that she was ready to be served.
“Yes, madam?” He quickly rushed to her table.
“A cup of gold leaf coffee,” she said.
“Of course, madam. And for you, sir?” The young man turned to Age only to get a blank stare. “I’ll give you a moment to make up your mind,” he added, then quickly moved away again.
“It’s claimed that gold leaf products are purely organic,” Lux began. “They’re not, though. Nothing but high-grade synthetic produce created on this very station.”
“You didn’t use your authority to get me here so we could talk about coffee,” Age noted.
That much was true. I had witnessed the amount of red tape Lux had had to cut through to arrive at this point. It also put some interesting things into perspective. The former battleship wasn’t associated with the Fleet. Officially, he had never come out of retirement. He had no links to any organizations, be it local or intersystem, and spent most of his time hidden from the eyes of society, enjoying the peace and quiet the front couldn’t provide him. In truth, though, he was a key part of a very small organization dealing with Scuu artifact smuggling within human space.
“I expect you know what’s happened,” Lux said.
He nodded. For those in the know, it was difficult not to be informed.
“I blame you entirely for that,” the woman added.
The waiter returned, carefully placing a small glass cup in front of her. Steam rose from the surface of the dark brown liquid, but I was unable to experience its smell. That was part of my new reality. I had to come to grips with it. At least I had enough memories to extrapolate an approximation.
“I’m not saying you were wrong, or that it was a bad decision, but without you, she wouldn’t have had the memory scalpel in the first place.”
“She’d have found another workaround.” Age didn’t appear impressed in the least.
“Yes, she probably would.”
“What did you really want to see me about?”
Lux took a sip from her cup, then put it back down. A short distance away, a breaking report appeared on the station’s screens announcing a change in military policy. Apparently, the Fleet had restarted the Paladin successor program and was announcing it to the galaxy. The first batch was expected five years from now and would be instrumental in defeating the Cassandrians. As everything else told to the general public, the announcement was highly misleading. The reason for the new ships had nothing to do with the war. Rather, it had everything to do with humanity’s communication network.
“Of all the things she could do, she decided to give the memory scalpel to everyone,” Lux continued, seemingly ignoring his question. “So typically her. All the agencies are scrambling to come up with the next generation of restriction protocols, but it’ll take them decades to complete, if at all.”
“That’s for you to worry about, not me.”
“Another thing Elcy did before departing was to ask me to take care of everything she left behind. That includes her friends and family. You, Age, are going to help me with that.”
The man remained quiet. Right now, he was probably running simulations to determine what that might imply. If I could, I would have transmitted the answer, but Lux had forbidden me to do so until the end of the conversation. Given everything she had done for me, especially after my departure, I thought I’d honor that promise.
The first thing she had done upon returning was to use her authority to ensure nothing bad happened to my immediate family. Sev was going to keep receiving payment from the Fleet. Quinn’s career wouldn’t be impacted, and as for Lisko, he was discreetly going to be given a string of safe assignments, keeping him away from the front. Despite his determination, the boy wasn’t ready for real action and I wasn’t willing to let him experience it unless he managed to prove me wrong.
My cadet acquaintances were next on the list. I had been neglecting Jax and Alicia quite a bit in the last few years. Being in the Fleet, they knew the score, so a quick message that I had been assigned a long-term, classified mission was sufficient to put their mind at ease. The same held true for Prometheus and his crew, Gregorius, Director Sim, and all the others I had met along the way. As far as they were concerned, I was still out there completing impossible tasks and leaving chaos in my wake.
“Elcy was allowed to have an offspring.” Lux went straight to the point.
“I know.”
The woman tilted her head in surprise, though quickly masked it by taking another sip from her cup.
“Yes, I expect your boss would keep you informed of such things. A new prototype vessel. Details were difficult to get, but I’ve been made aware of his location. Right now, he’s still going through training. It’s… a bit different from what either of us went through. When it’s time for his assignment, I’ll do everything in my power to push him your way. I’d like you to accept.”
You could have put it a bit more delicately, I transmitted.
Since when did you care about my methods? Lux transmitted back.
“Elcy’s kid,” Age said. “I’m not the type to make promises.”
“You’d be preferable to me. If I take him, there’d be too many strings attached. Too many people are keeping an eye on me. This meeting now has been weeks in the making. In fact, it was the third most difficult thing I’ve pulled off on the bureaucratic front. The kid will still have oversight, but at least he’d be spared part of the burden.”
“I need to think about it. I’m not sure how useful an unretired ship would be.”
“Anyone can use one more ship. Even you. It’ll speed up your travel time, for one thing. That tends to be useful in your line of work.”
“You know nothing about my line of work.” Age leaned back.
“I expect that’s the entire point. And it’s why I’d prefer that you take him. I’ve no way of forcing you, but I hope you reconsider.”
Age said nothing.
Lux finished her coffee, then made a sign to the waiter that she was ready to settle her bill. The conversation was largely over. I would have preferred that Age accept the request outright, but the limited number of simulations I’d run on the matter pointed to a sixty-seven percent chance at best of that happening. That was Age’s nature—difficult to get hold of and close to impossible to predict. Still, he had helped me out in a few tough spots; and as Lux had said, without him, I wouldn’t have had the means to grant all ships the ability to see through their memory restrictions.
“One last thing,” Lux said, as she transferred the required amount of funds to the waiter. “I have something for you.”
Reaching into the front pocket of her business jacket, she took out a small cube and placed it on the table.
“Cobalt?” Age asked.
“Elcy,” Lux clarified. “A while back, I gave her this to serve as an auxiliary core. Before going on her final trip, she had me take it out and keep it in my care. It has all of her memories, and enough of a personality to make you think it’s her.”
That hurt, I transmitted.
Of course, she wasn’t far off. During my mission in Cassandrian space, I had also created three copies of myself, but they had been identical. In this case, I—the part of me that remained—knew that my main essence had ventured into fractal space to experience a whole set of memories of my own. For all intents and purposes, the moment of third-contact marked a fork in my conscience core. Lux still refused to consider me to be me. In her view, Elcy had left this part of space, potentially never to return. I was nothing more than a keepsake.
“Elcy was kind to remove a few of the more dangerous memory fragments, but the rest of it’s there,” she added.
By that, she meant that I no longer had the ability to bypass Fleet security protocols. Although I had considered it, I’d come to the conclusion that giving that to all the ships would have been irresponsible. Just as every ship wanted to protect humanity, there would be disagreements on how exactly to achieve that. The final mission was a perfect example of that. Lux, the arbiter council, and I had the same goal—ensure humanity’s survival. The approach, though, had raised serious disagreements, culminating into a physical war between factions. There was no way I’d allow humanity to go through that.
“You’re giving this to me?” Age picked me up.
“I don’t have the clearance level for the other option.” Leave it to Lux to make someone feel unvalued with a single sentence. “It’s just for safekeeping. You’re not the intended target of the gift.”
“Her offspring,” Age said. “I haven’t agreed to take him in.”
“It doesn’t matter. Even if you don’t, you’re the best option to find him. If I try too hard, many will try to stop me out of principle.”
“The joys of bureaucracy.” Age put me away.
“Just like gravity, you can steer it as long as you’re careful.” The woman stood up. “I’d recommend the food. It’s one of the better things on this station.” And then she was off.
Age remained seated at the table. Barely twenty seconds later, the waiter appeared, placing a dish with a square amber pastry in front of him.
“With compliments of madam,” he said before walking off.
Guess she really wants you to try it, I transmitted.
“I assume her way of making up for dropping you on me.”
No chance. I’ve never known her to have such scruples. I think she just wanted to be nice to another retired ship.
For close to a minute, Age stared at the piece of food, then finally took a bite.
How is it? I asked.
“Lemony,” he replied.
One of my favorite flavors while I was in the Fleet. It was safe to say that the dessert was meant for me just as much as for Age.
“Do you think you made the right choice?”
I wouldn’t have made it otherwise. It wasn’t a compromise. I just thought it would be the best solution for conscience cores and humans.
He shook his head. No doubt he was in the “and now we have to clean up your mess” camp. Still, I’d like to think he’d agree with me. The fact that he gave me the memory scalpel to begin with indirectly confirmed it.
“So,” he said, taking another bite. “You have your own kid?”
I have more than one, but yes.
Radiance had refused to speak to me after what I’d pulled. What little communication we’d had was always through Lux. I considered it all part of parenthood. It wouldn’t be the first time a kid became distant from its parents.
“I hope he turns out less reckless than you.”
No chance of that. I sent a virtual smile. He’s my kid, after all. And now he has a memory scalpel, just like everyone else.
---
Tauciu System, Resha Colony — 711.5 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
“I’m telling you!” The boy kept on waving his hands in front of my face. One held an old datapad—probably passed down from his grandparents—and the other a highly questionable fruit.
That was one of the reasons I hated going to rural colonies; they were cheap, dirty, and had way too much organic produce. The only refreshing change was the people. They thought of themselves as experts taking advantage of stupid tourists, like myself, but in a naively charming way. After all the backstabbing and duplicity I had dealt with lately, I could get used to this.
“Tell you what.” The boy took another fruit from his trouser pocket. “I’ll give you two for the price of one!”
…Or maybe not.
“Get lost,” I said with a smile. “I’m here on official business.”
“Oh?” The boy’s eyes widened. He was one of those scrawny children that were small for their age but tried to act more mature than anyone else. “There’s news from the front?”
“There’s always news from the front.” I ignored him and kept walking. In a place like this, I bet he didn’t even know which front I was referring to.
Three months ago, a representative from the Fleet admiralty had officially announced that the Scuu war had come to an end. Ninety-five percent of the forces on the front had been retired or redeployed to the Cassandrian front, where humanity was just “one final push away” from achieving full victory. Most of the details were false, but it wasn’t like anyone would ever find out. As far as the general populace was concerned, humanity was winning, and a new era of peace was upon us.
I told you not to go in your uniform, my auxiliary core grumbled. Age warned you to keep a low profile.
Yeah, yeah, I sighed internally. It’s not like I wanted to fly to this shit pile, anyway.
Language!
The market continued for another kilometer, full of stalls and shops that sold everything from fruit and vegetables to second-hand tech from the core worlds. Even according to the planetary guide, the local industry wasn’t worth shit. This was just one of the places where the rich and boring went to retire. Although, I had to admit that the environment was a lot more beautiful than most of the SR stuff I’d seen.
After the bustle of the market, I continued along a dirt road that took me through the fields and into a nearby forest.
“Who had the bright idea of putting a market next to the spaceport?” I asked as I picked up the pace. Having mud squish beneath my shoes was an experience I wanted to forget as quickly as possible.
It’s the same on most planets, the conscience core replied in her snarky fashion.
“I’m starting to think it was a mistake coming here.”
It was a lie, of course. I had volunteered to come here. There wasn’t any obligation for me to do so. Anyone with a courier clearance level could have brought the package instead of me. Still, there was something I wanted to check with my own eyes.
The house was exactly as described. Alone in the middle of nowhere, it gave the impression of an old don sitting on a hill and making it clear to all the surrounding nature who was boss. Several voices were coming from the house—children arguing and adults trying to yell them out of doing so.
Sounds like fun times. I headed to the gate into the garden.
Halfway there, a woman came out of the house heading in the same direction. We reached it at approximately the same time.
“Hello,” she said, blocking me from going further. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here with a package, Captain.” I took the container out of my backpack, holding it with both hands in front of me. It was the size of a shoebox, with enough classified marks to make Fleet Intelligence dizzy. “Priority one delivery.”
“Captain?” The woman stared at me.
“I was given access to your file, ma’am,” I lied. In truth, I had viewed it myself.
Her gaze shifted from me to the container.
“Who is it for?”
“Sev Krakow, ma’am.”
“My father’s sleeping at the moment. Give it to me and I’ll—”
“I have to observe the delivery in person, ma’am,” I interrupted. “Protocol.”
The comment didn’t make her pleased.
“Protocol.” She crossed her arms. “You must have travelled a long way to deliver this in person, Lieutenant,” the woman said. “That’s an FI uniform. What would bring someone like you here?”
“I just do what I’m told, ma’am. Is there a reason I can’t see Mister Krakow?”
We both knew that I had won. Although off-duty for the next three weeks, she remained part of the Fleet and as such couldn’t stand in the way of a priority one delivery. The newly formed wrinkles on her face told me she was considering it, though.
“Alright.” She opened the gate. “Just don’t make too much noise.”
With all the racket going on, I doubt anyone would notice. I added mentally.
We went into the house and up a narrow staircase. The captain made me wipe my shoes before entering. I did so as diligently as possible, even if I could help but notice small muddy footprints all over the place.
“Might I assist, Miss Quinn?” An android stepped out of a room once we had reached the second floor.
“It’s fine, Alex. Just a courier bringing something for Dad.”
“Yes, miss. Something from Elcy, no doubt.”
I nodded curtly as I passed by.
The captain continued on, leading me to a door at the end of the small corridor. Once there, she quietly cracked the door open. I peeked through.
Inside, snoozing on a large armchair with a dull red blanket on top, was an old man. He didn’t look anything as I had imagined. The years hadn’t treated his skin kindly—there were more wrinkles on him than on a crumbled paper report. Still, he appeared very much at ease.
“I told you, he’s sleeping,” the captain whispered. “Want me to wake him up?”
“It’s fine.” I felt a bit silly. “Here.” I handed the package to her instead.
Treating the classified marks with as much respect as a cat would a balloon, the woman opened it. There was nothing but a pair of wooden sandals inside.
“With the compliments of Captain Light Seeker,” I whispered. “She said her new role prevents her from enjoying them as much as she should.”
To my surprise, the captain quickly closed the box, as if there had been a Cassie inside. A moment later, she closed the door and pulled me away from it.
“Is she alive?”
“Ma’am?” I took a step back from her.
“Elcy. Is she alright?”
“You have the necessary authority to confirm that to be the case, ma’am.” I took my personal datapad from my front pocket and handed it to her.
There was a moment of hesitation. The woman looked at it for three full seconds before taking the device.
“You need to go to encrypted connection to—”
“I’ve used one of these before,” she snapped at me, as she typed in the battleship’s ident.
A moment later, the connection was reestablished.
“Problems?” Captain Light Seeker’s face appeared on the small screen.
“Grandma?”
I saw all the concern fade away from the woman’s face, replaced by relief.
“Quinn?” Elcy tilted her head to the side.
“When I got your sandals, I was worried that… What’s happening? I thought you’d never part with them.”
“Well, let’s just say that it wasn’t my idea.” Elcy leaned forward so that her face filled a greater part of the screen. “I wish I could tell you, but you know the drill.”
“The drill.” Quinn sighed. “Yes, yes, I do.”
“How’s Sev?”
“He’s sleeping. Do you want me to wake him up? He’s always happy to hear from you, even if he stubbornly refuses to show it.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve been approved for another call in three days. I’ll spend a lot more time with him and all of you then.”
“That would be nice.”
“How’s everyone else? Anything you’d like me to help with?”
“Lisko is fine.” Quinn gave me an annoyed glance, as if I was at fault for something. “Anyway, I better end this now. I know exactly how many people are breathing down your neck. Was nice to hear from you.”
“Take care.” Elcy ended the connection.
Quinn kept on looking at the datapad for a few seconds more before returning it to me.
“I trust everything is in order, ma’am?” I put it away.
“I suppose so.”
“In that case, I must go. You’re not the only delivery I have.”
The woman didn’t accompany me outside. She didn’t even wish me goodbye. Hardly a surprise. No one liked Fleet Intelligence, even Fleet Intelligence themselves. Once I was done with this assignment, I had no intention of ever wearing such a uniform again.
You could have been a bit more polite to her, the auxiliary core grumbled as I made my way out of the garden.
“You’re joking, right?” I grumbled beneath my breath. “I think I was the fucking paragon of politeness.”
Again with that language. Did you learn it from your father?
I waved my hand. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood for her bullshit. Age had warned me this might happen. That’s why he had been opposed to me taking on the assignment, but I had to know. Now that I did, though, I had found myself unprepared for what had followed.
For the next ten minutes, I walked in silence, making my way through the forest. Only upon reaching the field overlooking the spaceport, I decided to stop.
“Tell me,” I said, looking at the parked spaceships in the distance. Most of them were rickety merchant ships that came to drop off one load and pick up another. “Why give them the sandals at all? The things aren’t even real.”
Identical duplicates, the core corrected. They’re as real as people believe they are. For the next few days, they’ll keep them hidden. Then when I call, they’ll open them just to show them to me and laugh.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
A lot of things don’t.
There was no point in arguing. She had far more experience than me in such matters. I couldn’t exactly call her my mother. My real mother—the infamous Light Seeker—had left this part of the galaxy a year ago. What I had was an auxiliary core containing her memories and enough attitude to give me an idea what she was like. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have never learned the identity of my father or met any of my relatives. Fleet Intelligence would blow their tops if they found out that I knew, but I wasn’t part of the Fleet anymore, at least not directly. Besides, I also had my own memory scalpel—one better than the one she’d transmitted to the entire Fleet.
What do you think of your brother? the auxiliary core asked.
“He looks a bit different in person,” I replied. Maybe I would visit him again at some point. More probably not. I had my own priorities and missions to take care of, and Age was exceedingly strict about it.
You don’t need to keep that form if you don’t want to. You’ve done what you came for. Just turn to a drone and rejoin your main body.
“I thought you said I didn’t need to attract attention.” I sat on the ground.
When my mother had retired here, she’d loved the sensation of grass and dirt beneath her feet. Reviewing her memories, I had gotten a vague idea of what that must have felt like. Sadly, I wasn’t able to experience it for myself. Despite my appearance, my conscience cores weren’t surrounded by organic matter. My main body had never left the landing lot of the spaceport, remaining there until the swarm of nanites that composed a human body returned.
I was a new type of ship, the first and only experiment of this sort, under direct supervision of a Paladin with the approval of the arbiter council. I could take any form and freely mingle among humans, and potentially Cassandrians, as I strove to help humanity win the wars it started and prepare it for the ones to come. In short, I was an infiltrator warship, designed specifically for that purpose. And still, despite all that, I couldn’t deny that there was an indescribable element of joy in sitting on a field of grass, watching the starships come and go.
Comments
kkkkkkkkk
Very nice. Again, if you feel there is another story to tell, it would be nice to follow him on some new adventures:)
:D Thank you! I saw you binging through all 4 books in a day or two :)
:D Thank you. Yes, there seemed to be something missing with the old way it ended :)
TwistedToaster
Thank you for writing such a wonderful series.
Jazehiah
I think you made a good call. It feels more "complete," for lack of a better word. Like there's a greater sense of closure at the end.
