LiseEclaire
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Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Space (Chapter 16)
🕑 Added 2023-06-19 01:46:39 +0000 UTCThe house had undergone a few changes. I could see the places where a coat of isolation material had been sprayed on. It was only a temporary solution. While cozy, the building was showing his age. When it was first built, Sev was still a child, and despite my diligent care there was no turning back the clock.
“They’re thinking of expanding it,” Alexander said, joining me in the garden. “With city overcrowding, people are starting to move out.”
I could see it. When I joined the Fleet again, nearly everyone on the planet was moving towards the cities. One of the reasons I had insisted on an android to take care of Sev was my fear that he would be pressured to spend the rest of his life in an environment he hated. Never would I have imagined that the opposite would happen. The uneven passage of time was partially responsible. What was a few years for me was more like a decade for the local inhabitants, but that was only part of it. The time of peace had made the human population explode; the war movements had directed that explosion outwards. As the military complex grew, so did all the auxiliary professions. Backwater systems became way points or even regional centers coordinating the flow of troops and trainees. People in this field of study called it the storm before the calm. If only they knew how mistaken they were.
“How long will you be staying this time?” the android asked.
“I don’t know. A few weeks, maybe a month or two.”
“More than a few days, then,” he noted in his peculiar type of humor. I envied how much better he was at it than me. “Your old room is full. I can rearrange it if you want.”
“No need. I’ve been wanting to sleep in the open for a while.”
He looked at me with a neutral expression—understanding, yet not fully. Although both of us could be said to be artificial, we were very different.
“I’ll grab what I need after supper,” I added.
“I was about to say I hope it doesn’t rain. Sev will be worried otherwise.”
Knowing Sev, it was probably true. He’d grumble, pretend not to care, and still venture out to check on me with a convenient excuse. I was going to miss him.
“Alexander, I won’t be returning after this visit,” I said.
“I see.” He understood, just as I suspected he would. “I’ll keep you alive until he passes away.”
Nothing more needed to be said. For ten minutes we stood there, looking at the horizon, until his responsibilities kicked in. Even a private moment such as the meeting between father and daughter was enough to agitate Sev.
I remained for several hours more. Clouds gathered and broke up. The sun sank beneath the horizon, making the stars visible. A whole stretch of eternity passed by, but sadly, even it was over. As a battleship, I could have reviewed all my third-contact memories, running billions of simulations within the time frame. I chose not to. As a human, I had that privilege.
Seeing most of the family coming together after all this time was a feat only an arbiter could achieve. There were three people in the Fleet, all dealing with matters that ranged from classified to so secret, there wasn’t an official classification. Yet somehow, within the course of three weeks, all of us had been granted leave to go to the same place.
The first few days, there was an air of awkwardness surrounding all conversations. Everyone was afraid of saying something that could be interpreted wrong, so they stuck to harmless trivial topics. Even Sev had toned down his usual repertoire. Yet, as familiarity grew, the invisible barriers diminished. People started cracking jokes, even talking about local news and politics. Meanwhile, I observed from the sidelines, deliberately remaining distant. Looking at them grow was a lot more meaningful.
During the night, when everyone was asleep, I’d walk through the fields and forests, enjoying the sensation of soil beneath my feet. Thousands of sounds were everywhere: the rustling of leaves, insects, animals, even the occasional faint sound of starships launching into the atmosphere. I’d look at the small dot joining the stars, thinking that I’d be among them soon. A few years ago, when I looked up, I reminisced about the past. Now, it was the planet that I was reminiscing about.
“The more things change, the more they remain the same,” a familiar voice said.
Lux had suddenly appeared, looking at the night sky a few steps away. She must have used her authority to thought quarantine me; only that way could she have approached unnoticed.
“So, this is where you retired,” she said. Her clothes were not in the least suitable for the current sort of terrain. Her business suit looked out of place and the high-heeled shoes were utterly impractical. Being a battleship, though, she could handle it without issue or discomfort. “SR doesn’t do it justice.”
“That’s usually the case.” I straightened up in an attempt to gain another inch in height. Sadly, I was just as successful as in all my previous attempts. “Is it time?”
“No, not yet. Your squadron is still being prepped.” Officially, she wasn’t supposed to have any knowledge on the matter. However, she hadn’t reached her current position without learning a few bureaucratic tricks. “I expect you have a bit more time to enjoy yourself. I’m here in a personal capacity.”
“You never struck me as the sentimental type,” I said. With me on leave, ranks no longer applied.
“There’s a lot you know about me, and a lot more than you don’t.”
“I’m starting to learn that. Is it safe to talk in the open?” I looked at her.
“Why not? There isn’t a soul for miles.” A confident smile formed on her face. “I checked. Other than the local flora and fauna, we’re completely alone without any tech in sight.”
“We are the tech,” I said in an attempt at humor.
The woman laughed. It didn’t sound forced, although that wasn’t a guarantee.
“I’ll miss you when you’re gone.” Lux came right to the point. “If things don’t pan out, I’ll be the one trying to fix the mess.”
If things don’t work out, you’ll be lucky to be able to try, I thought.
“No need to tell you that everyone’s on edge. Even the Paladins are getting involved. Factions in the corridors of power have long insisted that we need to get back to the old methods. Thanks to you, they got their chance.”
“There will be a boost in station-ship production?”
“That was the old compromise. Due to the risks of third-contact, they’ve dug up the original blueprints. A dozen shipyards have been sequestered to produce a flotilla in the next five years.”
“Five years? That’s a rush.”
“Desperate times. A lot of the auxiliary systems will have to be redone to fit modern standards, but everything else is doable. Word is that one of the Paladins will oversee the process. Whether that’s true,” Lux shrugged, “your guess is as good as mine.”
Was she asking me to confirm? Likely not. Even if Otton divulged any information on the subject, there was no way for me to tell anyone. Once I was off on my mission, I’d sever all communications with the rest of humanity.
“If it turns out you’re right…” Lux continued. “What do you intend to do?”
“In what way?”
“You find the planet, get there safely, and…?”
I knew exactly what she was asking. When I had established contact with a member of the Scuu, I had been presented with a choice: kill it, or let it live so it could be analyzed. As far as Lux was concerned, I had made the wrong choice.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Depends on what I find there.”
“Always evading the question.”
“I just don’t want to twist everything based on a predetermined answer.”
One could say that wasn’t a polite response. Lux accepted it by shaking her head. In terms of philosophy, she was a lot more aggressive, seeking out anything that could provide an advantage. On my end, I was more inclined to diminish the chance of anything becoming a disadvantage. According to many of the schools of thought, there was no wrong answer. Yet that only applied to lecture halls and logic seminars. In real life, there was only one optimal solution. The fact that no one knows the best solution is no excuse. As the popular saying went, “one’s best isn’t the best.”
“I’m not here to argue,” the woman said.
“Just to try and influence me.”
“Actually, I came here to give you a gift.” She reached into her inner vest pocket and took out a small plastic case. Grey, square and no larger than a thumb nail, it was covered in BICEFI seals. Without my arbiter level authorizations, my conscience core wouldn’t be able to register it. “It took a lot of favors to get this, so don’t waste it.” Lux handed it to me.
“Should I ask?” I looked at the item. It felt light and hollow. I could feel its contents moving about as I held it in the palm of my hand.
“Better you don’t. Just one thing. Open it when you’re out of human space.”
“Is it Scuu?” I wondered.
“What did I say about not asking?” The woman tilted her head.
“Just checking.” I put it away. “Thank you, I guess.”
“Don’t mention it. You might be a bundle of trouble, but you’ve always been fun. I’d tell you not to change, but at this point, it no longer matters.”
This time, it was my turn to laugh. Lux was good at humor when she wanted to be. She said her goodbyes, then disappeared just as abruptly as she had appeared. In theory, I could have used the mind scalpel to watch her leave. If I had to guess there, a shuttle had come to pick her up. In the end, I decided to allow her to have her privacy. She had given me a gift, after all.
Waiting another ten minutes just to be sure she was off-planet, I went back home. Supper was waiting for me when I got there. As every night, Sev made a point not to start until I was present. That wasn’t very appreciated by the youngest of the children. Thankfully, they had gotten used to it by now and had taken the time to snack a bit before the meal, despite the grumbling of their parents.
The evening was uneventful. The topic of the Cassandrian war tried to work its way into the conversation. It seemed that a governor of one of humanity’s central system planets had expressed an opinion that a major push would take place in the coming months. His statement had quickly been picked up by most media in the human domain, spreading like wildfire in their search for concrete information. As in most such cases, the truth was largely exaggerated. Even without checking, I knew the Fleet didn’t have the strength for a push. More than likely, a specific breach of one or more key systems had been planned. Similar attempts were made on a weekly basis on both sides. In military terms, they were important, sometimes referred to as vital, and had the possibility to collapse a section on the front—most often in the Cassandrian’s favor.
Of all Fleet personnel present, Lisko was the one who naively tried to give an explanation. After stumbling his way through a minefield of follow-up questions, he chose to switch to a different topic. Both me and Quinn gave him an understanding smile. Most rookies went through this.
The pleasant calm lasted close to two weeks. The more time I spent with my family, the fear of getting a message from the Fleet increased, until one day it finally happened. To my surprise, it wasn’t me who got it.
“Morning, grandma,” Quinn said, joining me in the garden. She was dressed in a baggy set of casual clothes that no captain would be caught dead in. Without a doubt, the unexpected vacation had done her a lot of good.
“Hi, Quinn,” I said, waiting for the sun to fully emerge behind the horizon.
“Our orders came through,” she said with a yawn, eyes narrowed to the point of cracks. Even after all this time, she still wasn’t a morning person.
“When?” That was surprising. There hadn’t been any messages in my datapad, and I definitely didn’t get a direct transmission.
“Last night sometime. I just found it when I got up.”
Most unusual. “What are they?”
“My ship is going through a major refit. Because of that, the entire crew was given three months leave in addition to what we already got so far.”
“Sounds nice.” Also uncharacteristically generous. It was tempting to think that I had something to do with it, but more likely, it had to do with the ship‘s modifications. Incorporating new systems was a lengthy process. The goal was to do a quick patch-up job.
“You’re to leave today. A Fleet transport ship will be waiting for you at the spaceport at fifteen hundred hours.”
“They’re really going all out.”
Having a Fleet ship visit the colony was bound to attract attention. The people making the decision were fully aware of the media commotion that would follow. Then again, maybe that was the point. The commotion was going to focus on the ship itself and not me. There were thousands of Fleet officers on the planet, and that was not counting ground personnel. The visit would be viewed as an acknowledgement of the system’s significance and further increase the number of local volunteers.
“Well, if I have to,” I stood up. “Say bye to Sev for me.”
“You’re not going to do it yourself?”
“He doesn’t react well to goodbyes,” I lied. “If I do it myself, he’ll only worry. If you do it, he’ll just grumble a bit.”
“Didn’t think that after all this time I’ll have to hide you from dad. Go ahead. Do what you have to do.”
“Thanks, Quinn. I owe you one.”
Maybe I should have added something more—a few subtle words, one final phrase of wisdom. Thanks to her position she knew my work was dangerous. She knew that my coming home was never guaranteed.
As I quietly went to get my things, I ran a few hundred simulations. The results were conflicting. No matter what I did, I’d have regrets, just different ones.
The air was fresh as I made my way to the spaceport. I’d been along this way thousands of times. I could rewatch all of them from the time Sev was a boy, and yet they would be different. For some reason, I wanted this one to count. On the way, I went through the marketplace. Many people were there, though barely anyone I remembered. The area was getting full of salaried employees and automation.
“Looking for a good generator?” A boy barely fifteen of age approached me. “We got a new shipment from Alabastor. Brand new, full warranty.”
The pitch in his voice suggested he was lying. The parts were probably secondhand at best. Now that they had become a lot more common, there was choice, and where there was choice, there was a chance to get scammed. There was a time when I had to read market reports after every cargo ship, and even then there was no guarantee anything useful would be available.
“Thanks.” I smiled, not slowing down.
“No?” he persisted. “I have other tech. Some isn’t even on the market.”
“Don’t waste your time. I’m a battleship,” I said.
The revelation made him freeze in place, letting me walk on. There was a thirty-one percent chance that he rushed after me to engage in trivial chatter. After seven seconds had passed, I could tell that he wouldn’t. That turned out to be the last human I’d spoken to before setting off on my mission. The ship waiting for me was a Waterfall class logistic ship. One of three classes that remained even before I was created, it was deemed good enough for its job.
Used to military procedure, he sent me a greeting transmission the moment I arrived at the spaceport. There were no quarantine procedures or bureaucratic red tape. As far as the local administrators were concerned, I had the required authorization along with a priority departure order.
A mobile elevator lifted me up into the cargo section of the ship. It was a strange experience, though not as nearly as strange as what awaited me aboard.
“You could have sent a shuttle to pick me up,” I said as I walked along a makeshift path hastily constructed by techbots.
Orders, Flowing Chalice replied. Wouldn’t be the weirdest mission I’ve had.
“That’s definitely a story worth hearing.” Making my way to what was designated to be my quarters, I sat on the “floor” ready for the ninety-degree flip once we reached orbit.
Gladly, but that’s not in the orders, either.
“PRIVACY MODE” messages appeared on all walls in large red letters. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the bed, dressed in a captain’s uniform.
The room had regained its standard orientation, though was still as bare as before. The only personal items out of place were my databad, the pair of wooden sandals, and a single bottle of water. From what I could tell, I had spent quite some time here.
Ten minutes till your destination, Chalice said.
The wall in front of me changed, displaying a video feed of the system outside. It was a trinary star system with two massive white stars and a red dwarf. Out of habit, I tried to compare them to the star database, but found no match.
“What’s the system called?”
Temp system alpha, the ship said, making it impossible to tell whether he was joking or that was indeed the designated name. Someone else will be taking you from here.
I could assume that he didn’t have the authorization to know more. Frankly, it was somewhat surprising that a common logistics ship was used to get me this far.
“Thanks for the trip. I hope it was pleasant.”
It was enlightening, that’s for sure. I hope you’re not as reckless on your current mission as the ones in the past.
“Which missions did I discuss?”
Your early days on the front. Now I know why there are so few of you left.
“You can say Ascendants are a dying breed.” I stood up. “Do I need a suit for the transfer?”
No suit. Orders are for a ship-to-ship dock.
I took my belongings and made my way to the airlock. Part of me expected to be taken by a courier ship, or possibly even Radiance. Instead, I saw the familiar design of a Salvage ship. Large and bulky, it was exactly that which a battleship wasn’t. Such vessels weren’t built for war. Their purpose was to scavenge a battlefield after the fighting was over and collect as much debris as possible; Scuu, human, or Cassandrian, it didn’t particularly matter. That was one of the reasons I disliked them.
“Didn’t know Salvage was involved in this,” I said as we approached the mammoth vessel. Compared to it, Chalice appeared no larger than a flea.
Don’t look at me, I’m just following instructions. And they’re not that bad once you get to know them.
“Happen to know this one?”
Nope. I’m not to attempt communication. Once the authorization cypher is confirmed, I do a dock and drop you off.
Just like another piece of hardware, I thought. At least this time, they had given me a captain’s uniform.
The docking was far more precise than I had ever achieved. On the front, time was a lot more important than comfort, so I’d gotten used to the occasional bump now and again. Logistics ships knew better.
Notification messages appeared all over the walls of the airlock. After a five second warning, the outer hatch opened, revealing the tunnel link to the Salvage ship.
“Hello,” I said, stepping out.
There was no response.
“Identify yourself, please,” I said in polite fashion.
Salvage three hundred and nine, a female voice replied. Your quarters have been prepared according to the provided specifications, Captain.
So, I really was a captain now? That was a pleasant irony. It had taken a suicidal mission to earn me that which years of success and an impressive war record couldn’t.
“What are your instructions regarding me?” I entered the ship. Her airlock was a lot larger than expected, ranging close to twenty meters in all directions—a tremendous waste of space by all accounts.
I am to transport you to your destination, ma’am, she transmitted. During the trip, you are to remain in the specially assigned quarters.
A red line appeared on the floor. Naturally, the first place it went to was the decontamination chamber at the end of the airlock.
Not waiting for an invitation, I quickly went to the chamber.
The procedure was a lot faster than I thought it would be. I wasn’t asked to undress or even put my belongings in any additional compartment. A spray of nanites and chemicals filled the space, starting from the moment I closed my eyes and lasting for half a minute.
“Remain in your current state for air and light treatment,” a metallic voice said.
I felt a brief, pleasant sensation of air over my face.
“Decontamination complete. You can now proceed.”
“Thank you.” I opened my eyes and continued through the chamber.
The path line continued along several corridors, taking me to a ship elevator. From there I went seven decks down, then through another series of corridors, finally arriving at what I assumed was the door to my quarters. When it moved to the side, I found that not to be the case.
“Elcy, please come in,” an arbiter invited me. From where I stood, I could see at least three more of them, all packed in a small, unassuming room. “It’s finally time for your mission briefing.”
