Being a cadet held one great advantage—unless explicitly restricted, I could go anywhere I wished, no questions asked. On a ship the size of Gregorius, people didn’t even care. The purple uniform made me unnoticeable to the point that I might as well have been invisible. All people saw was a scrawny cadet walking about aimlessly. Back at the colony, things had been similar. A few decades after I had settled in, the population had increased to the point that they could no longer know everyone by name. Going to the marketplace, I would be mistaken for a newcomer, tourist, or someone’s daughter, and occasionally given a discount. It had been mildly amusing.

The overall volume of the ship was reported to be just above three cubic kilometres, though I estimated it to be larger. In the last two days, I had spent the time between my chores and my med procedures going through new sections of the ship to get a better feel of it. For the most part, Gregorius had remained silent, only intervening when I approached a restricted area. More often, the warning came from Incandescent. The auxiliary ship had quite the attitude, just as Rad had said, but at least wasn’t against casual conversations, although he tended to go staticky on me without warning.

“Elcy, where are you?” Juul asked though the comm.

“Close to the Eastern garden, on my way to treatment,” I replied. The Commander had chosen to tell him and Kridib about the enhancement procedures, to minimize friction. On the surface, it seemed to have worked, though the fashion in which Kridib had started to avoid me suggested he had a lot of pent-up anger. The moment we were away on our mission, far from the Gregorius, there was no telling how he’d react.

“They’ll be making the announcement,” Juul continued. “The Commander thinks everything will go fine, but I’m not sure how the kids will handle it.”

“It’s just a name.” I continued towards the green section. Unlike all other ships, gardens here were their own microcosm of vegetation, like in rest and relaxation stations. For the time being, all of the ones I’d been to remain off-limits, though that was likely to change once the entire crew was aboard. “They’re unlikely to see him in person.”

“You don’t know much about people, do you…” The sentence wasn’t meant to be an insult, but that’s how it felt. “Come back here when you’re done with your stuff. I’ll hold the fort until then.”

“What about Kridib?” I asked, but he had already severed the connection. “Gregorius, what’s the location of Cadet Sapro?”

My datapad pinged. I took it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. According to the data given, Juul was in the internal communications building. It stood to reason that he was helping out the communications officers with the announcement. Normally, I would have expected it to come from the Administrator’s office, though, with it technically being a military matter, it stood to reason that the fleet would deal with it.

“Where’s Cadet Lyuk?” I asked.

Data unavailable! A message covered my screen.

For some reason, he had been granted privacy privileges, despite being just a cadet. Once the mission was over, I would request the same.

What are you hiding? I put my datapad away. Three special cadets, each with their history blanked, brought here for a specific reason. I had been given a hint as to what my purpose was, but I knew nothing about the others. Kridib despised what the mission had become to care about it, while Juul cared too much. Both seemed broken in their own different ways; more than likely, both had been made the same promise I had: “get the mission done, and your past mistakes will be forgotten.” I had to admit that from a strategic perspective, the plan was sound. No one would notice a cadet on board, and no matter what happened, we’d be transferred off in about six months, leaving the people who’d set all this in motion blameless and perfectly unknown.

The announcement started less than a minute later, just as I arrived at the med facility. No longer the grand occasion as before, it was a small snippet of news sandwiched between info on recent war developments. Almost as an afterthought, it was mentioned that a replacement candidate had already been selected and was undergoing the standard vetting process.

Some things never change, Sev.

Decades after my time, they were still using the same old tactics. To no one’s surprise, they still worked flawlessly. None of the cadets under my command tried to contact me, unlike what Juul feared. Looking around, the crew didn’t seem to care much either. A platoon of ground troops jogged by as I went up to the med facility’s entrance. Pausing a second, I took a glance at their drill instructor for future reference. Anyone who preferred to use actual exercise to Simulated Reality was definitely classified as interesting. If the stories were true, this was considered standard practice on Scuu ships way back when the fleet still sent grounds troops on such missions. No one wanted to risk having their mind hooked up to a machine that could end up getting corrupted any moment.

“Cadet?” A deep female voice said from inside.

“Apologies, ma’am.” I stepped in. The door quickly closed behind me. “It didn’t know that the ground forces were doing drills through the station.”

“Come along,” the medical assistant said. This was the first time I had seen her. So far, each visit to the med facility had been performed by a different team of specialists. In contrast, the procedure had remained roughly the same.

My first stop was the decontamination section—a small room large enough to hold one person. Taking off my clothes, I underwent a series of brief scans, after which a stream of sanitation nanites was pumped in.

“Hold your breath,” a voice said, lazily.

Closing my eyes, I held my breath and waited. The standard length of this part of the procedure was eleven seconds: enough time for the nanites to cover the entire area of my skin. Normally, people would already be unconscious at this stage and have an automated surgical unit perform the procedure. In my case, it had been decided that I didn’t need to enter temporary sleep mode, which was fortunate because it allowed me time to think.

I recalled the image of the deceased captain in my mind. Hours had gone into analysing it, yet so far I had come up with exactly as much as the official investigation: nothing. It was a certainty that the wounds had been caused by a rapid exit of internal nanites. Everything else on the matter remained unclear. I had spent hours running pattern recognition routines to determine whether there was a fractal element, but so far hadn’t found anything definitive. The notion was unsettling. As my third captain, Gibraltar, liked to say, “If something can be done once, it can be done again.” It was a pity that things didn’t go that well for him in the end.

“Breathe,” the voice said. “Once the room clears, go to the operation room.”

“Yes, sir.” Undoubtedly an innovative way to treat patients. It somewhat reminded me of the day of my retirement, when I was transferred into my human body. “Should I prep the surgical tools?” I wasn’t able to stop myself from saying. Given the circumstances, even Fleet Intelligence would show some understanding.

“Very funny, Cadet.” There was a touch of amusement in the voice’s dreariness. At least I’d made someone smile.

Outside the room, a bright green line had appeared on the floor, leading me to one of the operation sections of the facility. The equipment didn’t seem state of the art, but advanced enough to handle most medical procedures.

The operating table felt cold—halfway between the chill of space and a spring pond. Usually, this would be the time when laser scalpels would emerge, prepped to create an insertion in my skull. So far I had had my core coated in alloyed nano-plating, along with a few external filter circuits. This time, it seemed the procedure would be different.

“We’ll have to put you in sleep mode for this one,” a new voice said. “It shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

I remained motionless.

“Once that’s done, it should be easy sailing from there,” the voice continued.

“Are you putting in a shutdown failsafe?” I asked. No answer came. The silence extended to three seconds, then five. “It’s all right, I know cores are protected from tampering.” I had seen it in person when I took out the central core of a Salvage ship. He had been forgotten on a mission for over a century before we had stumbled on him. As Augustus would say, luck was on his side. I could only wonder if it would be on mine…

* * *

Classified Octanary System, temporary husk of the Salvage Ship Euclid

“So did you see any Scuu?” I asked as I continued removing the core’s protective panels. We had touched upon the topic vaguely, though Euclid had always changed the topic of the conversation.

Almost, he replied.

The answer intrigued me. I took the makeshift pair of pliers and tested them—by no means a masterpiece, but good enough for the task.

For a moment, it looked like we had him, the Salvage ship went on. All capture protocols were looking good. All measurable activity had ceased. I got the order and went to encapsulate him. When I got three hundred meters away, it imploded. The only thing I got was the husk.

“I've never seen a Scuu.” I wasn't sure whether the information he told me was classified or not, but I appreciated it all the same. “I've watched fleet recordings and simulations.” I moved into position. “A few shared fleet memories, but never the real thing.”

Consider it a blessing in disguise, the ship said. The concept felt strange. The new front breaks, but the old front bends.

“What's that?” I didn't recognise the phrase. “Is it a Salvage thing?”

Hopefully you'll never find out. There was a hint of regret in Euclid's words. I'm ready now.

Quarantine imposed.

Quarantine bypassed.

“What if I want to?” I knew the conversation was going to be viewed by the fleet command and the Salvage Authorities in depth. It was possible that the BICEFI would also get involved. Regardless, I wanted to know.

If you’re so eager, I’ll tell you, Euclid said, sounding like he was wearing a sleepy smile. Your memory will block milliseconds after I do, and in those few moments you’ll feel despair. Are you sure you want this?

“There’s no other way for me to be sure.” There was always the chance that the memory would leak through as was happening with the rest of my restricted memories; a small chance, but larger than zero by any measurement.

Things are different when fighting the Scuu. The greatest danger isn’t the enemy, but rather yourself. There aren’t many things worse than watching your crew and captain die. On the Scuu front, you might end up being the one doing the killing… or have to protect yourself as they try to kill you. Lines get blurred, and logic gets twisted in fractals. He made a moment’s pause. I was too far from the front lines to harm my crew, but I salvaged the cores of hundreds that did. I thought I was equipped to handle it, I thought I had the necessary protocols to keep the events isolated from my system, but their memories leaked through. The echo of an echo will never be comparable to the real thing, but sometimes even an echo is enough to cause damage.

“Thank you.” The notion alone felt like a knife scraping my nervous system. The only times when I had felt similar sensations was when I had lost portions of my crew. And just as before, I was filled with the desire to endure and push on. “I hope to remember that.”

Quarantine lifted.

Silence filled my mind. I let three hundred and fifteen milliseconds pass—the time required for him to enter his sleep state. Three milliseconds later, I took a deep breath and began the removal procedure. One by one, I disconnected elements of the mesh, following the preset time sequence he had told me.

What were you doing here? I wondered, knowing he wouldn't tell me. In the hour we'd spent together, we had spoken on many topics, mostly suggested by me. During all that time, he had slipped up only once.

* * *

“Cadet,” a distant echo registered in my senses. “Cadet.”

I opened my eyes, blinking several times for the image to focus. Three people in surgeon’s masks were leaning above me, one of them measuring my reactions with a response probe.

“We’re done for today, Cadet,” the person with the probe said, as his colleagues moved away. “You’re ready to go.”

Taking a few seconds, I ran a full diagnostic. I didn’t feel any different, nor could I find any new protocols added. Even so, I knew that a small electro charge had been placed inside of my skull, ready to scramble my conscience core whenever the specific conditions were met. According to fleet regulations, the device was supposed to be removed after the completion of my mission, or at the very latest upon my transfer back to my next assignment. Back when I was a ship, such restrictions hadn’t bothered me. They did now.

“What’s left?” I asked, slowly sitting up. My sense of balance was slightly off, quickly adjusting to the return to consciousness.

“Two more procedures to go.” The surgeon moved the probe away, then stepped aside so I could get up. Their bedtime manner was as good as any field doctor. No doubt I was getting special attention because of my upcoming mission. “Get dressed.”

Wrapped in operation fabric, I went to get dressed. There was the underlying feeling that, like most things aboard Gregorius, the med facility wasn’t entirely operational. Keeping in mind that the number of sectional sick bays numbered in the hundreds, it was understandable. Other than minor maintenance accidents, it was unlikely that there would be many cases that regular med bots couldn’t handle. If Aurie were here, she would say it made me special, though she interpreted nearly everything as being special. Looking back at our service together, it was a pity she had been destroyed.

My datapad was blinking as I reached the dressing room. Most of the messages were from Commander Everar, making adjustments to my daily task schedule. Apparently, going through medical procedures was no excuse not to help out in the long-distance sensor adjustment. Sometimes, it was too obvious that my superiors were taking advantage of my being a ship. I had hoped the rest would be from Sev or some of my acquaintances in the fleet, but they turned out to be generic reminders to increase my calcium intake. For some reason, every new doctor was under the impression that my bone density levels were incredibly low, despite them not having changed in the past seventy years. I guess retiree bodies weren’t meant to reenter the service.

Hey, Elcy! Radiance said, linking directly to my core as had become her habit. Did you hear the big news?

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” I replied, checking the area map of the current ship section. Up to now, I had used the garden level deck to go from the med facility to my quarters. Seeing that the secondary sensor control cluster was located at the very rear of the ship, I could easily pick a new route that let me go through several of the lower decks.

We’ll be going on a mission together! Flight Colonel Nitel just told me. We’ll be setting off in the next thirty hours.

“That’s good to know.” I hoped it would be more towards the end of the thirty hours. I still wanted to get a chance to visit a garden before we set off. “Are you done with carrying people aboard?”

I wish, Radiance semi-sighed. I know it’s supposed to be a big deal, but it’s incredibly boring. A shuttle AI could do the same. And I don’t get to see any action.

“Sometimes that’s a good thing.” A century ago, I’d have laughed at myself for saying such words. Captain Cass had helped me change my perspective somewhat. “Did anyone else see any action?”

Nah. Clarity got a few alerts, but it turned out to be nothing. The envy and disappointment in her words were palpable. We’re so far out from anything major that I doubt anything would happen. Not while Greg is anchored here. With any luck, we’re going to get things started with our mission.

“I’m not sure our mission is what you think it is.” I strongly doubted the Commander would have shared that with her, though I didn’t know how much this Flight Colonel Nitel was involved. “Are you allowed to discuss it?”

It’s need-to-know, but since you’re on the mission, it’s fine, she laughed. Well, you and Kridib, but he doesn’t count.

If nothing else, she had picked up my dislike of him. Knowing how emotional and temperamental Radiance could be, I wasn’t certain that was a positive thing.

“Either way, it’s best if we don’t talk about it for now, okay?” It was amusing to think I had been like her once. “Where are you docked? I’ve been ordered to assist with sensor adjustment, so I can pass by.”

Sorry, must get another cargo load. Ground troops again. Radiance let out a virtual frown. I’ve already brought a quarter million, and they just keep on coming. It’s not like we’ll be doing a ground invasion in this part of space.

“Follow your orders.” Unlike what I did. Besides, if command thought we needed them, they had to have a reason. “Planet purgers need armies.”

Planet purgers? The surprise in her voice made red flags pop up in my mind. I’m not a planet purger.

“I was talking about Gregorius, Rad,” I said cautiously.

First time I heard that. She hesitated for a few milliseconds. Makes sense, though. Even if there’s still nothing to purge in where we are. Must be off now. My next batch awaits, Rad said theatrically, then severed the connection.

“Until later, Rad,” I said, even if I knew she wasn’t listening.

Her attitude had somewhat changed since the first time we’d spoken; it had become more aggressive than was healthy. I was going to have a chat with her on the topic later on to find the cause of the change, But that wasn’t what concerned me at the moment. Based on her last reaction, it seemed that someone had restricted the memories of the conversations we’d had while she had flown me here. There were a dozen valid reasons for anyone with authority to have done so, yet the big question was why they hadn’t restricted mine.

Suddenly, I felt that a whole new group of players had gotten involved.