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Quod Olim Erat; The Cassandrian Theory (Chapter 12)
🕑 Added 2021-04-04 23:14:56 +0000 UTCSystem XNBBl-2, Cassandrian Space, 625.2 A.E. (Age of Exploration)
The ships were smaller than my estimates. Their mass readings suggested that they were nearly solid—a departure from the existing battleship blueprints I had on record. When I moved closer, I saw that we weren’t dealing with a single vessel, but a cluster of shuttle-like craft. They flew in groups, breaking off occasionally to shift from one cluster to another. The closer they were to the planet, the more their behavior resembled a flow of particles carrying off parts of the Cassandrian colonies into space.
As I neared, their path changed—they were following a trajectory to avoid me.
“At least we know that the devices are working,” Wilco said, along with a tense laugh. “Anything we could use?”
“Compiling data as we speak, Captain,” I replied. I had been doing so ever since we had entered the system, diligently storing it on external backups. Unfortunately, I knew that the question wasn’t addressed to me.
“Looks like the final phase,” Sword of Blight said. After a long discussion, the Swords had come to the consensus that he would be the one to advise the captain in this situation. Based on what I knew, I had to agree. Of the entire crew, he was one of two who had witnessed actual Cassandrian scavenging from close proximity. “They’re just here to mop up.”
“Simulations indicate that based on the level of current activity, it will take approximately twenty-six months for all organic matter to be taken from the planet,” I said. Since I was dealing with ships mostly, there was no need to visualize the simulation on my walls.
“They’ve probably been at it for years,” Sword of Rain noted. “Usually they’re faster than this. Is it close to what you’ve seen, Blight?”
“No. It took two-hundred and seventy-three hours to wipe a system clean. I’d say they aren’t interested in the scraps. After all, there are no Fleet ships to take it from them. The regression follows the standard principles—transport activity decreased by fifty percent in an hour.”
“Elcy, can you confirm that?” Wilco asked.
Of course I’d only be addressed when it came to confirming calculations. I’d already run several simulations since Sword of Blight had finished his sentence.
“Yes, sir. Based on the numbers, the process in the system must have started thirteen days ago. The fleet involved was likely in the millions.”
“Interesting timing…” Wilco mused. “Elcy, use my authority and do a check. Give me operation dates that coincide with the start of this. Five-day buffer.”
The direct authorization allowed me to skim through the classified list of combat missions, though the high-level thought quarantine prevented me from actually seeing anything I searched through. That was the price of security.
“Thirty-seven large skirmishes found within the specified time period, sir.” I replied. If I had adequate access to the mission files, I could have narrowed down the search further based on ship numbers.
“Blight, think it’s possible for a battle on the front to have caused this?”
“The odds are good for it. When the Cassies start eliminating, they are thorough. It’s what will happen to humanity if they have their way.”
The casual way in which he said it felt like a wave of pain. Worrying about my crew on every mission was one thing, fearing the extinction of the entire human race… that was an unimaginable thought. If humanity ever went extinct, the ships would soon follow. At most, some civilian vessels might remain functional, condemned to a slow decay due to tear and wear or energy loss.
“Anything’s possible.” Wilco scratched his chin. “Elcy, make a note of it, then continue to the inner planets.
“There’s no indication there’s anything of interest there, sir.” I reviewed the data I had gathered through passive observation. “Wouldn’t it be better to continue observing the final stages of the scavenging process?”
“You’ll learn nothing new,” Sword of Blight interjected. “It’s always the same. The Cassandrians appear, they swarm the planet, then leave a husk. That’s not what we came for.”
“Captain?” I wasn’t going to let some retired antique order me around.
“Do as he says, Elcy.” Wilco waved a hand. “He’s operational authority at this point.”
“Yes, sir. Course set to the second planet, ETA a hundred and forty-nine hours without boost.”
“Keep monitoring all Cassandrian ships. Passive observation only.”
More than six days of slow drift… The novelty of being behind enemy lines had already worn off. If I’d had a human crew aboard, I’d already have started my mutiny protocols, observing everyone’s behavior with the aim of minimizing potential casualties. The only thing that happened this time was for the captain to head to his quarters again and leave Sword of Fire in charge. The rest of the crew on the bridge—twenty-nine Swords in all—remained standing like marionettes, looking at the walls. Occasionally there would be a request for me to display another feed, or a window of data, but nothing else.
Attempting to analyze the Cassandrian shuttle-ships was the only thing I could do to pass the time. Isolating and enhancing the movements of individual craft, I was able to create a pattern model of their expected behavior. A lot was left to speculation, especially the details of what happened on the surface. The closest analogy I could make was to advanced ant behavior—each shuttle acted like a simple drone with a few specific tasks in mind. If that was true, it could change the way I viewed Cassandrian combat. So far, everyone I knew regarded the enemy ships as being the Cassadrians’ equivalent to the Fleet. All the battle reports seemed to confirm it: Cassandrian ships had internal components, passageways connecting the various areas, and were run by crews of their own. But what if that wasn’t always the case?
The Cassandrian missiles, the endless squadrons of fighters they’d constantly send, even their ground troops… what if they were nothing but drones following a set of orders? That would explain why they so readily sacrificed so many of their ships. And still, there were too many things that didn’t make sense. There was no way that the Fleet’s strategic core clusters couldn’t come up with a strategy to defeat such an enemy, especially in the early days. From what I had seen in Sword of Blight’s memories, the Cassandrians of decades ago were incapable of complex space combat strategies.
Sword of Fire, I sent a direct transmission. Permission to ask a question, sir?
I’m not your captain, the ship replied. It was annoying that he hadn’t answered my question, but since he hadn’t refused, I pressed on.
Why haven’t you defeated the Cassandrians? The reason can’t be the numbers alone.
It’s not.
Why then?
The Cassandrians defy analysis.
Never before had I heard such a reason. If it had come from anyone else, I’d have dismissed it outright. Coming from a veteran with centuries of experience, I had to carefully consider it.
There are very few patterns for us to follow. What works on one occasion doesn’t on the next. We cannot rely on automated battle tactics or pre-set maneuvers; everything has to be analyzed on the spot. If the ships are of the same race, there’s a greater chance of similarities, but it’s never a guarantee.
That much was true. I had been in hundreds of battles, and each was different from the last. I had always relied on Augustus’ orders and the ship communication channel to determine the specific strategy to take. At the time, I had considered it normal; there was a saying that reality started where a simulation ended. Even so…
Three things are for certain, Sword of Fire went on. There’s a lot of them, they destroy their failures, and they are always expanding.
But we’re winning. We’re pushing them back.
No, we’ve only slowed their advance.
He severed the connection. That was on the rude side, but to be expected with ancient ships. Swords tended to be cranky.
A few moments later, Sword of Rain sent me an info burst containing a list of Cassandrian species. There were hundreds of them, from ships to ground troops. The Fleet had attempted to divide them into categories, but some species were so different from the rest that they had next to nothing in common.
Those are the Cassandrians? I asked.
No, those are the races we’ve killed, Sword of Rain replied.
Before I could ask anything, one of my subroutines alerted me of an anomaly—an object had been located floating along an orbit between the second and third planet in the system. Too small to be noticed through mass detection, the object had only been caught due to the faint energy waves emanating from it. Getting a visual of the object was next to impossible. The distance between us and the small surface made the reflecting sun rays be little more than irregular glimmers, detectable only by advanced sensors.
Normally, I wouldn’t give the matter too much attention. Planetary debris, comets, and asteroids were a common occurrence; however, none of them had a matching energy signature on file.
“Red alert,” I said on the bridge and the captain’s quarters, covering the walls with red warning messages. “Cassandrian battle vessel signature discovered.” I displayed as much of a closeup of the object as I could, along with its energy wavelength. “What’s my course of action?”
“Get the captain here,” Sword of Fire said in his annoyingly calm fashion, while all other Swords focused their attention on the feed I was providing.
“The captain has been informed. Estimated distance to object thirty-two hours, thirty-eight minutes without thruster bursts. Weapon systems ready.”
Several thousand milliseconds passed in waiting as the captain woke up, rubbed his eyes, and reached a state to comprehend what I was saying.
“Status, Elcy,” he said with a yawn.
“Suspected Cassandrian battleship, sir.” I displayed the feed on the ceiling of his quarters. “Weapons systems ready. Awaiting your orders.”
“How many?”
“One confirmed energy signature. Proximity to the sun is making the reading unreliable. I could do an active scan to confirm.”
“No. No ping,” Wilco got out of his bed. “Head to the vessel, full speed. If there’s an energy source, it’s worth looking into.”
Communication link closed
The memory ended, taking me back to the Paladin’s bridge.
“Enjoyed your journey?” the ancient ship asked.
There were millions of ways I could have responded, yet the option I chose was a short period of silence. The memory was just over a week—a brief trip between systems that would seem negligible in other circumstances. The events that I had witnessed, though, made up for it. After so many years, I had finally re-experienced the time spent with my second captain. My memory had been quarantined at the start of the missing, keeping me from realizing that the second captain was Augustus’ security officer. That didn’t matter, though. Knowing anything about the man was welcomed. A pity I was so harsh to him at the time. Maybe further along the mission, things would change?
“That was more than a few minutes,” I whispered.
“I thought you deserved a bit more. This way you would have more to think about.”
“I do.”
He was right; there was a lot for me to consider. For one thing, he had guaranteed my return in the week to come. I had learned so much about the Cassandrians, more than I thought possible. It was strange how everyone considered the Scuu the mysterious race without even grasping the complexities that surrounded the second-contact race. The words of Sword of Fire still echoed in my consciousness: the Cassandrians defy analysis.
“How many survived the mission?” I asked. “Did my captain make it?”
“You did,” the Paladin replied—a moment of humor, or a clear indication that he wouldn’t give me more information on the subject.
“Were my memories edited? I didn’t recall things I should have.”
“Your memories are just as they were, unrestricted as much as possible. What you see is exactly what you saw back then.” The image of the Paladin turned on the screen. “You received a new set of quarantine instructions the moment your mission was activated. Your captain was good enough to remove some of them gradually. Everything else you’ll have to see on your own.”
And for that, I’d have to return or accept your request. I reached for the food dispenser. It would have been rude not to, especially since the Paladin had gone through all the trouble to reactivate it just for me.
“Do I need to return to my base?”
“You’re welcome to stay longer. It’s always nice to talk to someone, especially in person. Only for seven hours, though. Fleet regulations do not allow anyone to remain on the ship unattended for longer than that.”
I tilted my head.
“Even I can’t do as I please, not with two wars going on.”
“Will there be a third?”
“Always so eager to know things you know I cannot tell you. That’s one of the things that is so fascinating about you—your unrivaled curiosity.”
“Most Ascendants are curious, sir.” Not to mention that that was a general ship trait.
“The young ones are, but you’re no longer young. Most ships your age either request a final shutdown, or retire on a planet where they spend the rest of their lives doing nothing. You’ve maintained, even increased, your curiosity. One can even say that you are one of the few ships that is close to being alive.”
Alive? That was a compliment only a ship could make, and only a ship would understand adequately. Despite humanity’s amazing technological advancements, and the miracle of the conscience core, we remained what we were—a step away from humanity. Now I understood his interest in me. If my conscience core was used to assist in the creation of a new ship, there was a chance that it would be closer to human as well.
The food was nice, though different. Standards had changed over the last few centuries. The packaging, though, remained the same, although I now had ceramic cutlery along with my plastic.
“The Swords, did they voluntarily retire?” I asked.
“No,” Otton replied, voicing what I suspected. “Junior gods don’t get to retire. They get called back again and again.”
Did that mean they were still in the Fleet? The odds seemed likely; I had seen retired Swords before at the Scuu front. Actually, I had seen them on the Cassandrian front as well. Both the Sword of Rain and Sword of Spheres had been part of a dark op while I was under Augustus. From what I remembered of the restricted memory, Wilco was also involved. In fact, Augustus had delegated operational control to him. At the time, I thought it was due to Augustus’ opinion of the mission itself. Now, I could tell for certain that it had been Med Core’s mission all along.
“What is it like to have a child?” The Paladin’s question surprised me. At the same time, I understood perfectly what he meant.
“Strange,” I replied with a smile. “And chaotic. Like having a captain that refuses to give orders, but expects you to obey them.”
“That sounds like a paradox.”
“It’s the closest thing I can come up with.” That was the impression Sev had left in me while growing up. Despite all the phases he’d gone through, even with his long absences from home at times, I always considered him my responsibility. “It’s also difficult letting them go,” I lied. In truth, it was impossible. “I’m sure you’ve seen our correspondence.”
“I have, but there’s more to something than messages and memories. As I told you, I have the processing power to create a virtual simulation of anything I want, even a conscience core.”
“But then you’ll know exactly what it does.”
“Yes.”
“I think I’ll be going back to Vermillion.” I stood up. “Maybe next time we’ll talk about it more.”
“I’d hoped you’d stay longer.”
“So did I, but there are a lot of things I need to think about. About my present mission as well. Maybe next time things won’t be so rushed.”
“In the Fleet, everyone is constantly rushing for something. Except Paladins. We only sit and wait.”
“I’m sure you rushed a lot too when you were young.”
“No, even then, we had the Scuu come to us. I’ll leave the lights on until you leave the bridge.”
The Paladin was nothing like me. His behavior matrix was machine-like, but nothing like the Swords’ had been. The Swords were like echoes without emotions, puppets wondering why someone had cut their strings, and just accepting it. The Paladin was like a machine that knew it would never be remotely human, but very much wanted to be. Through centuries of observation and mimicry, he had achieved such a near-perfect grasp of behavior that he had almost understood it. Now he was ready for the next step.
All corridors beyond the bridge remained dark, just as when I had come in, almost like in space. The memory fragment I’d been given made me see similarities between the past and my current mission. Director Sim had said that the system the base was in had belonged to the Cassandrians at some point. Did that mean that it had been scavenged and abandoned, or the Fleet had taken it? The truth was buried beneath layers of restrictions.
Ve, I’m coming back, I transmitted to Vermillion Green.
I know, the ship replied in her snarky fashion. How did things go?
You’ll be taking me back in a week, if that’s what you’re asking. I knew she wasn’t. Sorry to inconvenience you, I added with a bit of sarcasm.
Heh. I’m used to you. Hurry up, so we can get going.
A courier ship that didn’t enjoy flying. That was new. It was difficult to tell with Ve. I picked up the pace a bit.
“You really should meet Radiance,” I said as I walked through the link connecting ships. “You two will like each other. Also, your clearance will let you talk frequently.” Much more frequently than I.
Even without the special base restrictions, getting in touch with my protégé had become next to impossible. The Scuu front was changing, and with it, all the missions and regulations. From time to time, I would get rumors, possibly a message or two—censured to the point of absurdity—but nowhere like I did before.
Unlikely. Thanks, though. There was a momentary pause. You could have asked Otton to grant you comm access. He would have agreed.
“Yes, I could have.” If the Paladin wanted to give me access, he would have already.
The moment the airlock door closed behind me, Ve was already moving away from the ancient ship. That was one of the things I had noticed about her—always in a hurry.
It’ll take a bit longer to get you back to your dump this time, Ve said. I’ve a task before that. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.
“Sure.” It’s not like I had another option. “How long will it take for me to get back?”
Not long at all.
The next thing I knew I was standing at the exit of an open airlock, watching as a shuttle made its way towards me. This was one thing I’d never get used to. At least, it was refreshing she left a few rough edges, making me aware that I’d been through quarantine. That was rarely the case—I’d have while segments blanked out and not even be aware.
See you, Elcy, Ve said. And don’t forget to check your mail.
“I’ll do that.” I straightened up. There was a good chance the last thing we had spoken about was related to my height. “Did you get in touch with mission control?”
Had a subroutine do that. The people here like to slack a lot. I’m not sure they were too happy to hear from you, though.
“Oh?” This was a surprise. “They want me gone?”
Oh, no. They’re complaining it took you this long to return. Good luck, “grandma,” the ship added with a virtual chuckle. See you again in a week, give or take a few days.
It was amusing to wonder what we had spoken about during the flight. Either way, that was immaterial now. My visit to the Paladin was over; now I had a lot of sample collecting and cataloguing to look forward to.
My trip to the launch site was much more pleasant than last time. The course was pre-set and executed by the shuttle’s AI, so I didn’t have to bother with anything. Upon landing, I was rushed through decontamination, then collected by a tech who looked as if he’d just finished high school. I expected him to take me directly to Director Sim so I could have a proper debriefing. Instead, I saw the familiar figure of captain ‘Bo waiting for me in the rover. This time, she wasn’t alone.
“Morning, ma’am,” I said as I entered the front door of the vehicle.
“I knew you were trouble the moment I set eyes on you.” The woman glared at me with a deep frown. The effect would have been intimidating, if she were a few heads taller… and also if my facial analysis didn’t show that there was a ninety-three percent chance she was faking her anger. “You sure know how to make an exit, starless,” ‘Bo laughed. “One moment you’re there collecting samples, the next you’re off on an off-world vacation.”
“I wouldn’t call it a vacation, ma’am.” I tightened my seatbelt.
“And how was it at Location Undisclosed this time of year? Anything to write home about?”
“I couldn’t say, ma’am.” I left it deliberately vague. Most probably she was thinking I’d had my memories of the entire event restricted, and I had no intention of correcting her. “Are things going—” I paused for three seconds. “—well here?”
“No need to panic, starless.” ‘Bo laughed. “Meet your new assistant. Elcy, ‘Rissa. ‘Rissa, Elcy.”
Someone else from a central system? Looking at her, she seemed like just another bureaucrat—no uniform, no insignia, just the standard issue space suit. The helmet was at fifteen percent opacity, allowing me to see her face.
Out of habit, I compared her name and facial features to the copy of the Fleet personnel database I had. No matches. The name on its own wasn’t rare. There were a hundred and eighty-six active officers that had the same. Clearly none of them were the woman in the back seat of the rover.
“Ma’am.” I nodded in greeting. “I’m not sure I’m allowed an assistant, ma’am.”
At the sound of that, ‘Bo started laughing so hard, I feared she might choke.
“You’re killing me.” The woman managed to stop for long enough to take a breath. “She’s Ondalov’s assistant, the assistant you’ll be assisting.”
That explained a few things, though not why she had come at this time. As far as I knew no restructuring had been planned until Ondalov’s departure and that wasn’t for a while still. Could it be that something had accelerated it?
“Elcy here’s our starless,” ‘Bo explained. “She does everything from paperwork to sample gathering. Be sure to take full advantage of her before the director snatches her away. Oh, and she’s also a battleship.”
“I’ve read the file on my flight here,” ‘Rissa said. Her voice was dry, even hoarse. “It was about time we got a specialist.”
“You’ve been here before, ma’am?”
“You could say that.” The faint smile suggested that was an understatement.
“The colonel has been coming and going to this base for quite a while. You could say that she was here when it was first built.”
There was a lot to unpack. The fact that ‘Rissa was a colonel didn’t surprise me in itself. I had seen many reach the rank at an early age. Provided she didn’t have any treatment, I put the woman in her mid-thirties—enough for her to have risen through the ranks through excellence of battlefield promotions. How had she been here when the base was constructed, though? To suffer such extreme time dilation meant that she had spent the greater part of her life constantly flying from one side of human space to another.
“I’m looking forward to working with you, ma’am.”
“There will be time for that,” ‘Bo interrupted. “Before that, you’ll need to sort through Ondalov’s samples. Things have been slow while you were away, and by slow, I mean no one did a thing.”
“I’m always ready to help, ma’am, but—”
“There was an incident shortly after you left. One of the samples had a negative effect on one of the research teams, and they had to be shipped off-base. The Director decided that you should finish the work. So, hope you had a large lunch coming here, for there’s a lot of catching up to do.” ‘Bo smiled. “Oh, and welcome back.”
