Qoe Azul, specialist, platoon zero-zero-one. Life signs ended.

This was the first time I experienced having one of my crew die. For five full milliseconds, I kept my undivided attention on the notification, reassigning all other tasks to my subroutines. The man wasn’t anyone in particular, just a standard army specialist assigned as part of my ground force. Technically, he wasn’t even under my command, just part of a ground regiment I was assigned to transport to the battlefield.

According to his personnel file, Qoe was forty-six, born on a backwater high-gravity, with no disclosed family. He had joined the fleet twenty-four years ago and remained a ground trooper ever since. I did not know Qoe outside of the three weeks’ video feed I’d archived when he had come aboard. In total, I’d sent him a hundred and eleven standard notifications, three personalized messages, and denied four requests he had made during the flight. Statistically he was unremarkable, entirely insignificant in the grand scope of things, and at the same time he was the first person I’d lost. Seven milliseconds later, twenty-eight new death notifications arrived.

“First platoon has been annihilated, sir,” I informed Augustus. “Imminent additional casualties projected.”

“Focus on your scans, rookie!” Augustus barked. “Ground can take care of their own.”

“They are part of my crew, Captain,” I reminded, while my subroutines analyzed the battlefield. The few remaining Cassandrian ships were either fleeing the system or seeking cover in the second asteroid belt. “Permission to send support minisats.”

“Not this time, rookie. Sats are for the living.”

“The ground forces are still alive, sir,” I countered. “And under your direct command. Engagement regulations state that we are supposed to support and aid all ground troops in the war theatre. Refusing to do so could be considered—”

“Don’t let lives affect the war, rookie,” Augustus said under his breath. “Let them go and move on.”

A new burst of death notifications followed, along with a fleet warning of expected enemy reinforcements. As per regulations, my priorities shifted. Sending off a mass warning to the ground forces, I closed all shuttle bays and went into emergency combat mode. Four other ships did the same, moving towards the designated perimeter location. I was denied that option. Augustus ordered me to target and engage a crippled capital ship, then went to his quarters along with his second in command.

“Nice and easy, Light Seeker,” Wilco said. “Don’t take more damage than you have to.”

“Understood, sir.” I started running combat simulations. Provided that the enemy reinforcements didn’t outnumber us by more than a factor of point-two, success was guaranteed with minimal damage. If I had successfully preempted the capital ship’s behavior, there was a ninety-eight percent chance that I avoided any additional loss of life. “Issuing battle station notifications.”

“Remember, you always lose some,” he added.

“Lose some, sir?” I ran another set of simulations. “Based on current data, no onboard losses are projected.”

“There always are losses.” Wilco’s pulse spiked. “Learn how to stop thinking about them.”

* * *

Learn how to stop thinking about them.

That was the only time Wilco had offered me advice. His file had been sealed, so I didn’t know when exactly he had joined Augustus, but I was impressed that he had beat the odds to survive until retirement. Based on my projections, his chances had been set at a hundred and fifteen to seven.

A thousand and nine had died during my first battle, mostly ground troops, as they finished mopping up the Cassandrian land presence. New orders had arrived, along with replacement troops which I took to the next contested planetary system. I still remembered all the files and faces of the first soldiers that had died, along with every other since then. On this topic, I had refused to take Augustus or Wilco’s advice. I never locked away the memories of the people of my crew that died; I only wished that there hadn’t been so many.

“Elcy?” I heard Jax ask through the comm.

“I’m here,” I replied. “Try not to move. The tunnel collapsed and you had a fall.”

“I can’t see you.”

“Give me direct suit control.” I prepared to link to his system. When the connection was established, I quickly went through the suit’s sensors.

For the most part, Jax was in pretty good shape. His suit had absorbed most of the shock and the bloodstream nanites had taken care of the rest. The suit itself wasn’t in terribly bad condition either, even if it had suffered considerable scrapes. The check complete, I rewatched the last fifteen minutes of Jax’s log.

After the tunnel had collapsed, he had managed to fall smack into the cobalt divider, twisting his body so that gravity dragged him to the opposite side of me. The shock had also made the suit engage in safety mode, flooding his bloodstream with short-term tranquilizers. The movement during the fall had been too erratic for the cameras to catch anything identifiable.

“What happened?” Jax asked, brushing the soil from his visor. Parts of his section became visible, along with a spike in his heart rate. “What is this?” I watched him stand up in real time, turning to what few had seen in their lifetime: an underground metal wall, four meters high and covered in geometrically perfect symbols, created by a race humanity didn’t have contact with.

“That, is a third contact artefact.” I smiled, and shared my video feed with him.

I had been correct about the location of the dome. What I hadn’t anticipated was that it would be much bigger than the one I had encountered last time. The improvised tunnel had turned out to be only meters from the artefact itself. When trying to determine its location, I had somehow managed to activate it, causing the layer of melted soil to crack and dropping us into a large chamber that had remained concealed for millennia. Wall-like separators divided the chamber in further sections—each including an eighth of the dome. Climbing either the dome or the walls had proved impossible, leaving me and Jax trapped apart.

Unable to reach him, I had spent the time up to his call exploring my surroundings. From what I had found, I could assume that the chamber around the dome had been created by vegetation on the artifact gradually dying out as more took its place, creating a sort of root cage throughout the centuries. Water must have then gradually washed off the dirt off the smooth cobalt surface, keeping the immediate area around dome from being covered. Our tunnel must have ended up being above one of the separators, splitting us apart during the fall. Based on the dome’s curvature, I estimated that the wall between was approximately a meter thick, fused with the rest of the artifact in homogenous fashion. The technology was impressive, to say the least, exceeding the precision that went into building my own core.

Comparing Jax’s image feed and my surroundings, one thing was obvious: the cobalt in his area was covered in symbols, and mine wasn’t. Based on my past experience, that wasn’t supposed to have been the case.

“Is this what Lux was searching for?” Jax asked, moving to examine the symbols on his side. Whatever contact training he had been through had taught him adequately, since he didn’t venture to touch them, but rather observe from a safe distance. Unlike him, I had tapped the dome several times in an attempt to activate it.

“Possibly.” I looked at my section of the dome. “Can you move a bit back so I can get a better view of the symbols?”

“Sure.” He did as I asked. “How big do you think this is?”

“Assuming it’s a sphere, enough to hold two shuttles.”

Most of the symbols were identical to the ones I’d catalogued. Five were unfamiliar, but thanks to Rad’s algorithm, I was quickly able to classify them. As Augustus liked to say: find the pattern of behavior and you’ll know every outcome. In this case, it seemed I had managed to crack the core principle of the alphabet. The symbols weren’t random symbols arranged in three-dimensional space; they were three-dimensional letters themselves. I, and the entire fleet, weren’t able to see beyond the two-dimensional snapshot of the form to understand what they really represented: an object rotated in a specific angle in local space.

“So, what now?” Jax halved his suit’s light intensity. “I don’t think we can dig this up on our own, if that was your plan.” The shaky laugh suggested he was as confident in his joke as I was.

“We don’t need to. We just have to activate it before Lux digs us out.” And prevent her from melting the planet with us on it. “Is there anything else on your end?”

“Doesn’t seem so.” Jax turned around. I could see nothing but soil. “Lots of dirt and darkness. Looking for anything in particular?”

“I dropped part of my equipment on the way down. It didn’t end up here, so it could be on your end.”

“Hold a minute, I’ll check.”

The minute turned to five, then ten. Wherever my wave probe had gotten to, it wasn’t here. One possibility was that it had fallen somewhere above on the dome itself, possibly even activating Jax’s section. After several failed attempts, we decided to call the search off and focused on other things.

The lack of connection warning on my visor disappeared. The Prometheus had managed to restore communication channels. From here on, it was a matter of time before they pinpointed out position.

“Jax, I have a favor to ask.” I started my way back to the dome. Everything I said now was likely to be monitored by Prometheus and the BICEFI. Jax must have figured out the same because he nodded. “I want you to go to the end of the separating wall and show me what you see.”

I followed suit. The cobalt wall continued on, burrowing in soil beyond the air pocket.

“Look up.” I lit the finger-flashlights of my suit and aimed them to the ceiling.

Light flickered in Jax’s view, establishing a common marker. Cassandrian ships used similar methods to regroup and coordinate during the war—a crude inefficient system that worked only with huge numbers and at exceedingly small intersystem distances. In my case, it was more than enough. Using what I had spent weeks training for in the academy, I climbed along the soil to the top of the dividing wall. The initial intention was for me to cross over to Jax’s side so I could attempt to interact with the symbols. What I saw made me reconsider.

While under Gibraltar, in the periods of boredom between combat, he would often engage in mind puzzles to pass the time. Having the full fleet database at my disposal, I would abstain from taking part, observing the officers on the bridge. The experience was always the same: predictable and dependent on the omission of a key point of information. Constantly running a dozen simulations per second, I never understood or enjoyed the practice. Being human, I now started gaining an appreciation.

“Jax, get up here.” After the collapse of the tunnel, I had assumed that we had ended up on different sides of an artefact. The truth was that I hadn’t found one sphere; I had found nine of them.

I turned off my video feed and covered the suit’s camera with my hand. Eight identical spheres, each the approximate size of the quartz-wrapped dome I had entered, separated from one another by a cage-like construction. That was the reason only the wall on Jax’s side was covered in symbols. In the center was a ninth sphere, larger than the rest. It was impossible to make out much from this distance, but the one thing I could see was a blue, glowing symbol identical to the one that I had seen during my first Salvage incident. Augustus had made certain that the artifact it was etched on went to the BICEFI.

“What’s up there?”

“I don’t know. It looks like—”“

“You couldn’t follow orders, could you?” A new feed overwrote my comm priority, blocking my channel with Jax.

Prometheus had been impressively fast in pinpointing my location and breaking through my crude defenses. Next, according to mutiny subdual protocols, he would assume complete control of my suit, using the system tranquilizers to put me out of commission. Unfortunately for him, my immediate link to the suit’s system made that challenging. The science ship had far more processing power, along with millions of subroutines to launch an attack, but there were only so many of these resources he could siphon through the space suit. Immediately, I used my single communication channel to trigger a manual shutdown.

That’s a bit pointless, Prometheus said, continuing to establish a direct link. I’ve been granted authority to quarantine you, so going out of the suit wouldn’t matter.

You wouldn’t risk getting infected. I took off my helmet. The air felt stale and stuffy, but was adequate to keep me going for a few hours.

Elcy, listen to me. The communication changed characteristics. While Prometheus’ fleet protocols were present, there was a new addition of ID markers. You haven’t broken any rules yet. Your original task was to help me locate the third-contact artifact for retrieval, and you have done so. If you continue with this, though, you will be court martialed, and this time there will be no lenience. Put your helmet on and reboot your spacesuit.

I can’t do that, Operator Lux. I almost felt honored that she had deemed me significant enough to talk to me in person. I also knew she had sent a report to the nearest BICEFI office, requesting assistance. From my run-ins with the BICEFI during the war, I knew they rarely entrusted sensitive missions to common grunts. Several teams were probably already on their way. When they arrived, they would scorch the forest above me and drill their way to the artefact. I know what you’re planning to do with the artifact.

I sincerely doubt that. There was a few seconds’ pause. Leave the location and return to Prometheus.

That is impossible. I started taking off my suit. The tunnel we used to reach the artefact collapsed. It would take you hours to drill a tunnel to us, even with a team on the ready. Unless you want to risk hitting the artefact by accident.

During my time in the war, different captains had different opinions on the strategy of stalemate. Augustus hated it, Gibraltar avoided it, and my second captain loved nothing better. Faced with a significantly inferior tactical and bargaining position, it was the most I could achieve.

Always the reckless one. A virtual frown came through the communication channel.

Maybe. One thing to keep in mind is that the artifact is much larger than the dome in my previous mission. Ten times larger.

You found a core? I experienced a wave of interest I didn’t know Lux was capable of.

Unknown for now. I folded my space suit and placed it against the wall. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to take the helmet with me. Even in its current state it was able to provide light and protection. I’ll keep you informed, provided you don’t try anything with Jax’s suit.

You got it. I still think you’re making a huge mistake.

I’m certain I am. I looked behind. There was still no sign of Jax. His time on an Escort ship had dulled his skills. The same can be said for any Ascendant. Talk to you soon, Operative Lux. I severed the connection.

Sorry about this, Sev. Maybe you’ll be luckier next time.

As much as I hated to admit it, Doctor Sim had turned out to be right. What had started as a minor annoyance, escalating to the extreme in my round of questioning half a day ago, had ended up being merited. No one could deny that I had gone rogue, and by all probability had been infected by the first artifact. On the front, I would have been removed from the fleet at first notice, yet the BICEFI had chosen not to, considering themselves too smart, as usual. There was no doubt that they had seen all the events in my memory, but had made a collective decision to ignore them. Not only that, but they had kept all information about the third contact incident unfiltered in my core. The only thing that remained was—

“Elcy?” Jax’s voice echoed in the chamber. “What’s wrong? You turned off your comm.”

“It was acting weird,” I lied. “Third contact artefacts had a bad effect on tech. Don’t touch any and let me know if your system starts to glitch.”

“What about you? You’re part tech.” The light on the edge of the wall got brighter.

“It’ll be fine.” I put on the helmet. Normally, I’d add that my core was shielded, but faced with so many unknowns, I couldn’t. There had been talk of Scuu technology that went through the standard safeguards, rendering ships’ cores inoperable. Even with my old access, I wasn’t able to get any official information confirming or denying such speculation. It was a pity that I didn’t have the time to get more info on the matter from Age… but maybe there was something else I could do.

“Jax.” I went to the edge. The cadet still had a quarter of the distance to go. “Try to re-establish connection with Prometheus.”

“Huh?” He looked up. “Is that a good idea?”

“Yes.” No, it isn’t a good idea, but circumstances make for strange alliances. There was no way of knowing the BICEFI’s grand plan regarding the artifacts, beyond destroying them, but I could tell Lux was as eager about the find as I was. Regardless of what happened, she would be willing to give me a little leeway as long as I gave her more info on the core artifact. If that were the case, she might also be willing to break a few rules. “Send a priority report to Lux and the captain. Tell them you have come across a third-contact artifact.” I turned on my helmet light. “And when you get up here send them the video feed.”

Here’s my offer, Lux. Let’s see what you’re willing to give.