There are no flowers in space. It was Cass who had pointed it out. When I was a ship, I never gave it much thought, focusing on the trinity of key priorities: crew, ship, battle. Matter in space was either a threat or an annoyance that occupied my navigation subroutines. Flowers had no place there and I didn’t see a remote reason for them to be.

Lying on the bed of my makeshift habitat, I couldn’t stop wondering what it might have been like. The good thing about being a ship was that I didn’t have to imagine it. With the processing power I had, I could just bring them into existence into a simulation.

You always had a thing for orchid-lotuses, Cass. The shape appeared in my mind, as large as a small asteroid. I transformed the petal material into quartz, giving them a yellowing amber tint. From your first month on board, you started filling my empty decks with them. That used to annoy me so much.

That had undoubtedly been an interesting period of our coexistence. I had sent numerous protests to command, but failed to get a favorable resolution. In the end ,Cass had shown mercy, transferring the plants to the nearest station. I had never complained about flowers ever since… even when Sev had offered me a bouquet.

That was the reason you fled to university, wasn’t it? I ended the simulation. Even now, there were some memories I preferred to leave alone.

“Ten minutes to shift time,” the Major’s voice echoed in the room. Despite the many technological advancements in the last decades, the sound system remained notoriously bad. “Get prepped.”

“Always a pleasure to hear your voice, sir.” I stretched, then got up.

Since the start of the mission, the original chaos and uncertainty had been replaced by an almost military-like routine. Major Tanner was the one who made me know when a shift was to start or end—a useless task since I was better at keeping time than anyone on the Prometheus with the exception of the ship himself—and Ally would chat away during symbol analyses. There also was Varusia Coll, an AI reverse-engineering specialist. I had no idea who she was, but I could tell for certain she wasn’t on the Prometheus. She rarely spoke, mostly getting involved when a new symbol was discovered. The single time I asked about her, I was given her name and speciality before being told not to concern myself with the matter.

“We continue with twenty-nine?” I asked, sliding into my suit. A faint smell of sweat prickled my nostrils. Apparently, a shower compartment wasn’t deemed vital for the mission.

“Twenty-nine to thirty-five,” the major said.

“Roger.” He didn’t say I was behind schedule, and he didn’t have to. Some areas of quartz had turned out considerably more persistent than others, requiring additional tools to be brought down. My requests for drills, cutters, or any other remotely electronic device had been rejected. Instead I was given a vast collection of chisels and hammers and instructed to “be gentle.”

Gearing up, I ran a quick check of my suit, then left the habitat structure. As every day, the dome waited for me, covered in soft light. Half of its top was bare, revealing the smooth cobalt surface. Swinging down to my work area, I took a standard hammer from my belt and started chipping away.

“Ally,” I said as I revealed another symbol—one of the familiar duplicates. “Do you think I’ll get to cut this up today?”

“Sure,” she scoffed. The first time I had dropped the question, she’d nearly had a heart attack. With time, she had gotten more used to my humor. “Right after you dig it out and drag it onboard.”

“Any idea what it does?” Another symbol, another number to my list. “Do you think it’s a database?”

“You know as much as I do,” Ally sighed. It was obvious she was lying, but I let it slide. “The only firm fact is that it’s a perfect hemisphere.”

“What about you, AI lady? Any speculation you can share?” I brought up a visual display of the dome on my visor. Burner drones had managed to create a grid of tunnels under the base, confirming the shape. Personally, I would have wanted to check for symbols in the center of the base, but my request had been denied, as expected. “Any chance we’ve stumbled on an alien core?”

“No info means no info, Cadet,” Varusia replied. “But it isn’t impossible.”

Double negatives. I loved the way people used them, especially the ones who knew how.

“Requesting permission to remove pole twenty-nine.” I tucked the hammer into my belt. “I’ll gain some time that way.”

“Proceed with caution,” Major Tanner used the standard phrase. “Get a good view of the moment this time.”

“Roger that.” I kicked myself off the dome’s surface, landing on the pole with my full weight. A large cracking sound filled the chamber. I expected the pole to detach with just a small patch of quartz remaining, as normal. Instead, a scab twice my size peeled off, crashing to the ground.

I froze. Dozens of symbols covered the newly revealed surface. One of them I remembered seeing before.

Priority one plus fleet communication protocols. Commencing transmission.

* * *

“The unaccounted area is approximately a fifty-fifty by ten meters,” I said.

According to the Solar Breeze’s schematics, there wasn’t supposed to be anything of importance there. The storage compartment was classified as low security, which meant it likely contained utility supplies. I requested the construction blueprints. There was no indication of any reinforced structure there either. At least the dimensions matched my blind zone.

“Where are my drones?” Captain Augustus asked. “Wilco, drop everything you’re doing and secure us an escape route. We’ll need to get off fast.”

“Captain, I must insist to inform command of the new developments.” I put my weapon systems on standby. “If you suspect—”

“Where are my bots, rookie?” the captain barked.

“A shuttle is being loaded and will be at your location in five minutes twenty-three seconds.” I reran my calculations.

“Of all the useless junk!” The captain hissed. “You four—” he pointed at the troopers “—prep it!”

“Captain, I—”

“Interrupt again and I’ll dismantle you for mutiny!”

This was the first time I’d heard such a threat. The only time a ship could be charged with mutiny was when it went rogue, and there hadn’t been such a case in the history of the fleet. And yet, the voice marker in Captain Augustus’ voice left no room for speculation. Uncertain, I continued to monitor the situation in silence.

I watched as the troopers sprayed a section of the door with corrosive explosives, then stepped back, waiting for the order.

“Any readings in or out?” the captain asked.

“Nothing on long range scanners.” I set part of my subroutines on continuous scan. “Haven’t found any traces of people aboard. Scans reveal a number of blocked areas, all accounted for.”

“Let’s hope half of you is right,” he hissed. The comment was painfully true. I had failed to find life signs onboard when there obviously were. “Combat readiness. Comms off.”

Ledd Agello, private, platoon zero-zero-five, data-flow terminated—manual protocol override.

Aragasta Civ, private, platoon zero-zero-five, data-flow terminated—manual protocol override.

Specca Fibra, private, platoon zero-zero-five, data-flow terminated—manual protocol override.

L’Kay Nirro, sergeant, platoon zero-zero-five, data-flow terminated—manual protocol override.

Oyaeh Lin, private, platoon zero-zero-five, data-flow terminated—manual protocol override.

“Sorry, rookie,” captain Augustus said, as the squad disconnected from my subroutines. “Standard engagement protocols.”

I ran a priority search in the fleet’s database. The only instances of full comm shutdown were in cases of ground Scuu combat, which hasn’t been attempted in twenty-seven years—possibly because there had been no successful cases of ground invasion. There had been nine hundred and twenty-two separate attempts, from single team incursions to plant-wide invasions, all ending in failure. At present, the strategy was to bombard planets from orbit and isolate them from the Scuu network.

“Set up a one minute routine buffer,” Augustus ordered, making his way to the storage doors. “Quarantine all systems.”

“Captain, I am equipped with the latest AI countermeasures,” I said as I executed his order. “Are you about to engage the Scuu?”

“Go dark.” He ignored my question. “Keep a line open with the bots.”

Elric Augustus, ship captain, data-flow terminated—manual protocol override.

“I want you to record everything you see!” The captain pointed a finger at the bot’s camera. “Record, store, and quarantine. Got it, rookie?”

“Understood, sir.” Talking through a bot felt weird. Its sensors were far more limited than I was used to and it had no weapon systems to speak of. “Long range scans are clear, no change in activity on the Solar Breeze as far as I can tell.”

The captain nodded, then hit the storage door three times with his hand. Seven seconds passed in silence. The corrosive has started to eat into the metal, ready for charge to blast the whole door open. Everyone in the squad had moved back, weapons at the ready. Then, a response came: three distinct clings a second apart.

Augustus hit again—one strike, followed by three in rapid succession, then another separate strike. The moment he finished, he made a sign to one of the squad. I recognized the gesture—ignite it.

A shot sounded. The explosive that had made its way into the door lit up in an incandescent white. On an active ship, nanites would isolate the area, shedding the affected segments like a snakeskin. My own defense subroutines were set to constantly expunge and reinforce corroded sections, fighting off invasion attempts for minutes. With the Solar Breeze dead, breach was achieved in three-point-nine seconds.

“Start recording!” Captain Augustus said then kicked in the loose piece in.

Time exploded. The bot’s sensors gave me a single perspective of the scene, transmitted through a link not suited for this. Four people of the squad rushed into the darkness of the hold. I felt a tap on the bot’s shoulder. Switching its lights on, I went forward. The moment I did, a wave of readings overwhelmed the sensors. What the storage room lacked in light, it made up in smell particles. I could identify seven hundred and twenty-one unique traces of sweat, as well as blood, food, and other organic substances. While a thousand of my subroutines were matching the traces of DNA in the air with a list of fleet personnel, I moved the bot’s head around to create a full record of the event.

The sight was worse than a war zone. Hundreds of people were clustered in a space that could barely contain them: not all of them were alive. I moved the bot to the closest person and checked her vitals; they were weak on the brink of survival.

“Oxygen levels,” the captain asked, making his way through the barely moving crowd. A few tried to grab hold of his spacesuit as he passed.

“Air is acceptable, though not prime.” Most humans would probably throw up from the stench. Many possibly had already. “The crew appear to be severely dehydrated and starved.” I injected some probe nanites into the person’s bloodstream. DNA biometrics identified her as lieutenant Fig Emm, communications specialist. “Immune system is severely compromised, possible unknown infection.”

“Full quarantine protocols!” Captain Augustus shouted. He had reached the far end of the storage compartment. “Send five more shuttles of bots. Clear a hangar bay and have them moved there. No human contact, clear?” He looked over his shoulder.

“Understood, sir.” I redirected two hundred med bots towards my auxiliary hangar. Calculations confirmed it was enough to hold a thousand people with direct contact to shuttles. “There’s no indication the captain is onboard.” I finished with the mass DNA match. Of the people, only three were officers, the rest being part of the crew, a few security personnel, and sixteen unaccounted for. “No other survivors found on the ship so far.”

The captain didn’t answer. Instead, he bent down and pulled an object from among the bodies. The rest of the squad formed a parameter, ready to shoot at any provocation. Taking my cue, I went on silent red alert and armed my weapons as well.

“Record this,” captain Augustus held up the object for me. I zoomed in. It was a metallic cube with a seven triangle symbol etched in on the side.

Memory Restriction Imposed

* * *

“What the hell, Elcy?! Must you break everything you touch?!” Major Tanner shouted in the comm, making my ears tingle. “How did that happen?”

“I’ve been practicing.” I resorted to sarcasm. “On the positive side, it looks like I’m back on the original schedule. The entire slice is cleared. Dome surface is intact.” I zoomed in to make sure. Whoever had built the dome had done an extremely precise job. The quartz coating had probably also helped keep it in pristine condition. “One new symbol with fractal edges. Sending video.”

I expected my camera to be reset remotely to default magnification. Surprisingly, that didn’t happen. Aren’t you a beauty? For three seconds I continued zooming in, until I reached the end of the fractal properties. If I were at my previous processing capacity, I could map and analyze the entire symbol in a matter of minutes. At present, it would take hours to get a full fractal image. Seven triangles chained together. I knew I had seen it before on the Solar Breeze, just as I knew that I wasn’t supposed to have access to those memories.

“Proceeding to press the symbol.” My hand moved on its own. No one said a word to stop me. My fingers pressed against the hard cobalt surface of the dome, then pushed further. Point-three seconds later, an opening emerged on the artifact and pulled me in.