“We must act swiftly,” comes out of the heavily armored android’s voice emitter from the inside of the heavy cruiser Bulwark’s bridge as she regards the people looking back at her from throughout the solar system. Walks Softly, the head of civilian affairs, is in the virtual meeting and so are four members of Earth Council: two representatives of the four major powers (America, China, Europe and Russia), one of the newly created blocks of developing nations and one of the poorer ones.

“Yes, Ma’am Longcannon, but we can’t leave America unprotected to send an expedition because of some information that may not even pan out,” replied the arrogant American representative. It was a shame it was them instead of the Europeans this time; the latter were a lot more reasonable and had a greater compromise with human dignity.

“The information is solid, we’ve verified it as much as we can,” she replies, feeling her distaste for the woman running through her circuits. Longcannon talked from the bridge of her command vessel, the heavy cruiser Indomitable Wanderlust.

“Do you believe you can lead this expedition and keep the system’s security ready at the same time?” asks the Chinese representative, ignoring his counterpart in a manner he knew would needle her.

“Listen, you pie—”

“You’re muted, representative. Keep a civil tongue or you’ll be expelled from the meeting,” intervenes Walker. Galactic civilization or not, rivalries were still going strong, something that Longcannon knows aggravates him.

“As I’ve said, we’ll have full coverage of the planet even if it might take a bit more time to react to a developing situation,” Longcannon replies to the Chinese, ignoring the bickering.

“The Latin-American Union supports the plan,” adds the no-nonsense block representative. “Slavery is anathema to human and mythic’s values.”

“The Pacific Union agrees. Purge the Grays while you’re at it,” replies the fourth representative, an unhealthily obsessive glint in his eye.

“Very well, China stands ready to repel any unjust aggression, xeno or otherwise, as always.”

“America abstains,” grits out the combative representative, scowling deeply.

“Thank you for the vote, representatives. I must convey with my subordinates to prepare the expedition. Goodbye.”

With a thought he ends disconnects the Earth Council’s representatives from the call, leaving only his Unity counterpart and partner, Walks Softly. The AIs stop bothering to mimic human mannerisms, talking seamlessly in a digital manner. It’s much more suited to the rapid exchange of information they’re familiar with.

“That went well,” Longcannon comments to its artificial brethren.

“I like many things on planet Earth, but their squabbling leaders are not one of them. At least the mythic representatives were more sober and less self-centered,” says Walker.

They had gotten an unanimous approval from the mythics, nothing of the human bickering reaching their auditory sensors. Though it probably had occurred before the official meeting. Not that the AIs needed the authorization, they have the Unity’s authority to to overrule the votes if they must. It is considered bad form not to attempt to gain the local populations agreement though. The Unity wants cohesion and approval, not uprisings and planets quitting the Alliance after all.

“Only because the mythics are going through lean times around here, I’m sure. Ordinaries, mythics… Fleshies of the same species are all the same deep down.”

“I can’t argue about that. The mana injectors we’re building should change that in a few decades.”

Mythic renaissances were a common phenomenon when dealing with mana starved planets. The average sentient mythic population was sure to flourish. Eventually even large mythic creatures might awaken from their long slumbers, like the flame serpents called Boitatás, kept in tribes’ memories because of their randomly beginning of forest fires as they turns in its sleep. As the two of Earth’s highest authorities talk, they check the plans for Task Force Terra-2, proposing and arguing many small changes and overhauls simultaneously.

Longcannon thinks the forces she’s proposing to leave behind will be enough to keep the Solar System defended from pirates, but it won’t hold if all the closest Milky Way’s malefactors acted together. Unlikely though even a temporary alliance between the bottom-feeders is. Space scum, besides preying on merchant ships, asteroid miners, independent stations and defenseless fringe worlds, often prey on each other when they get the opportunity. There were 23 ships in her fleet when she reached Earth for the first time, three of them support and research vessels. Out of the twenty warships, 1 was a heavy cruiser, 1 a cruiser, 2 small carriers, 4 destroyers, 6 frigates and 6 corvettes. All of those remained on the vulnerable system, and cashing in some favors, she’d been granted another 2 destroyers and 10 corvettes from the nearest Unity Fleet Star-Base.

“You’re leaving one of the carriers, right? Only the star-fighters can catch some of the raiders,” says Walker, taking a last look at their plan.

“Yes, but I’m taking the Wanderlust, three of our destroyers and half of our remaining original escorts.”

Among the 11 ships she’d hand-picked for her Task Force, only two are capital vessels: the carrier Broodmother and the cruiser Wanderlust. Wanderlust’s bigger, more armored counterpart, the heavy cruiser Bulwark, will stay to defend the Solar System; Longcannon is its captain, but he decided to switch posts with the Wanderlust’s captain for the mission. It’s something Earth’s Armed Forces aren’t used to, but par for the course for the Unity.

The other starships are escorts, smaller and faster than capital vessels, hopefully capable of intercepting the Greys and holding them in place until the Wanderlust can arrive. None of the ships are of the latest generations or carrying cutting edge technology, but they are a major power’s vessels and a lot more sturdy than anything the smaller nations and outlaws in this corner of the galaxy should be able to field. The Greys were not common rif-raff, however; the xenos were part of the Rogue Systems. A chaotic hive of villainy that would spread if left unchecked in Longcannon’s opinion. The only pirate-hunting operations where she had seen vessels lost or badly damaged was against them.

“Is this Captain Garyin you’re leaving in charge of the Bulwark and system fleet really reliable?” he asks, still somewhat unsure about losing his fellow AI. The attacks had just stopped after all.

“Yes, he has worked under me before. He’s a solid tactician and the Liagori are amongst Unity’s best ship-handlers.”

“I don’t believe I’ve heard of them,” Walker replies, leading. He can have that information at the incredibly small snap of his processors’ focus, but it makes for extremely dull conversation. Those kind of actions are reserved for emergencies and actual battles.

“Not the newest species, they’re with us for fifty Terran years or so. They evolved in a planet constantly affected by random gravitational ebbs, so they have a gelatinous built of sorts. Even better, they are fliers. So they have good spatial orientation and are used to dealing with sudden changes. It helps that they have one of the highest grav-resistances known in the galaxy.”

“Damn, they must be fast. Single species ships?”

“They have some,” he confirms. “No one besides AIs can deal with the speeds they withstand, so other species would have to go into stasis too often for it to be safe.”

Space Travel was probably the most important product of magitech, the joint study and application of technological and magical principles and techniques. One could reach the stars using only technological or only magical means, but it was the careful merger of the two that made spaceships really shine. The idea of redundant systems had great merit, and even more so when the backup systems were so widely different that there was no chance of being disabled by the same means of the primary ones. Say that in a space battle one AI achieved supremacy in a digital fight and promptly cracked the enemy ship’s anti-gravity measures? The result would be an instant victory, only lessened by the need to clean the stains off the bulkheads. With anti-grav spells as a backup though, the chance of losing both types systems as the same time is largely reduced. The timing needed to deactivate the tech measures and dispel the magical ones at the same time is extremely hard to get right.

As Longcannon reflects on it and thinks about the cleaning, she remembers another one of their developing situations that needed to be looked over. One that involved a man whose job would have been to clean the bloody bulkheads if he served on a starship.

“Tell me, Walker, I haven’t been keeping track of it. Have those Broken arrived at the planet?”

“Not yet, the Cartel should deliver them the day after tomorrow.”

“It’s a shame I don’t have the ships to escort them somewhere else,” she grumbles once again. The fact that the Swarm can most likely overwhelm any Unity’s convoys without a big escort through the area irks her heavily. It is an uneasy status quo as she can’t request too many ships from neighboring systems for fear of opening them to attack. To use a Brazilian expression, it’s a short blanket situation - you either cover your shoulders or your feet, but not both.

“I’m negotiating with the Swarm for a ceasefire through the region, but you know how slow they are to accept these,” Walker replies, alluding to the fact that their main rivals liked the freedom to stop and search any vessels passing close to their systems. And this region of the Milky Way has a surprising amount of interesting and life-bearing planets. The planet the quartermaster was fighting in had been the one they chose to focus the hostilities on - in the long run the powers had agreed it was inefficient to wage widespread wars and wreck many worlds. So ground fighting was restricted to worlds of smaller mineral value, surveyed and agreed on in advance. AIs were logical beings before anything after all.

“So, I think we’re in agreement,” Longcannon’s non sequitur is taken in stride by her companion. They had just finished the planning for Task Force Terra 2 on their other channels of communication after all.

“Yes, we are. Godspeed, Cannon. Good hunting,” Walker replies.

“It’ll be. See you in a few months if everything goes according to plan. Don’t lose the system while I’m gone,” she replies good-naturedly and signs off, sending orders to the fleet.

It’s time to go live up to her latest moniker: Grey Hunter.

***​

Wearing her advanced android body, Longcannon strides out of the shuttle and into the reception ready for her in the Wanderlust’s hold, to the calls of “Bulwark on deck!” The mostly Liagori crew is assembled in ranks, standing respectfully. Salutes are not generally enforced in the Unity’s armed forces — species’ anatomies vary too wildly for there to be a common protocol.

“Welcome aboard, ma’am,” Captain Garying greets her, his shifting red form and cluster of sensorial appendages not bothering Longcannon at all; she has experience in dealing with the Liagori. They didn’t have a head per se, keeping their brains protected inside their chests in a manner she thought wiser than exposed on a head like the Terrans did. The humanoid form as they called it on Earth is the most common in the galaxy, however, evolution often turning that way.

“Captain Garying, she’s a beautiful vessel,” she compliments tactfully, nodding to the Liagori with her head but getting to the point.

“Thank you, Carries a Longcannon, and welcome aboard,” pipes in the ship’s AI. While Longcannon continues the conversation, she is bombarded digitally by the eager ship-based intelligence’s gushing about her arrival like a teenager.

“Yes, she is. Straight from Liagor’s fist space-docks,” he agrees with pride. “Take good care of her, captain, please.”

“I will. There was some sort of matter about the crew exchange you wanted to talk about in person?” she prods, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, yes,” the Liagori replies, his shifting intensifying for a second in clear discomfort. “You know every star-ship has its… particularities, don’t you, ma’am?”

“Indeed,” she says, making a human carry on with it gesture with her hand. Species mannerisms are hard to let go of.

“We have an engineer, a lieutenant, that’s… well… sort of fused to the ship?”

“Fused?” she parrots back to him, bemused. She had looked over the top officers and their sectors’ status reports, but lieutenants usually are not something she has to worry about on a crew.

“To one of the engines,” Garying clarifies. Longcannon can’t help but to be bewildered, even if she has seen plenty of oddities before. The engines of star-ships are humongous, complex machines that generate ungodly amounts of heat that are often only manageable because of cooling wards and judicious exposition to the cold of the vacuum. Someone fused to one of those?

“Agani’s a fine engineer,” the Wanderlust sends her privately. It’s good sign that she’s protective of her crew, most worthwhile ship-AIs are.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to explain that one further. Has there been an accident you haven’t reported, captain?” presses Longcannon, showing no discomfort at keeping two conversations at the same time. Still, she requests the AI stop talking so much for a second.

“No, ma’am! I mean, there was an accident, but a few years ago. The Wanderlust was on a scouting missing and stumbled into hostile vessels. The engine he was servicing had its cooling vents blown away and then a mana-lance breached the cooling wards in the engine-room.”

“And he survived?” She voices the obvious follow-up question, though it’s already clear. Polite conversation: AIs have to try hard, Although it helps that this time she really is surprised. Some species had incredible heat resistance, but the Liagori were not one of them.

“Turns out he was a Liagori volcanic mythic and he jumped on the engine, saving his repair-team from being fried.”

“And so he has been fused to the engine since then?”

“Exactly, he actually improves its performance by a small margin.”

Longcannon dedicates her processors to mull over the information for a second - which consisted of a lot of thinking for an AI - and decides it’s not a concern for her if it isn’t for them. “Very well. Anything more you’d like to share?”

“No, that was the only thing, Longcannon,” he said. The AI nodded towards the crew and the smart captain understood the unspoken command. He then turns sideways to address both his chief and the crews at the same time. “The Wanderlust is ready, ma’am!”

“I relieve you of command then, captain.”

“I stand relieved! Good hunting, ma’am, I’m sure my crew will do you proud!”

They trade some more pleasantries until Captain Garying gets the message that the shuttle was ready. With farewells to his remaining crew, the Liagori captain embarks the shuttle with the officers he’ll take over to help him run the Bulwark. It is a temporary promotion of sorts, bumping their pay and padding their standings, which should make them plenty happy even if they had to leave the Wanderlust for a bit.

“We’ll hold a meeting in half-an-hour in the Captain’s. We’ll be leaving soon as you’re well aware. You’re dismissed, report to your stations,” Longcannon waves and the Liagori crew heed her commands, confused though they may be at the human mannerisms.

She knows the officers she had requested accompany her would arrive soon, and that they would need to get on the same page with the Wanderlusts’ own officers and senior crew. There is little time to waste and much to do, so she doesn’t even thinks about one of the many special forces units she requisitioned for the mission.

***​

Natalia Ferreira

“Natalia, we embark in thirty minutes,” warns me Special Force’s Leader Borbarium, bipedal for the moment. He pats the ridiculous HelloKitty wrist-watch on one of his six arm-legs, a souvenir bought while training us on Earth, my home planet that I’m leaving for the first time, “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t, Face, it’ll be a quick offering,” I promise, holding my laugh at the incongruity. Face is short for Face-Hugger by the way — he’s a dead reckoning for a popular creature from Earth’s movies about aliens before actual alien contact. Luckily he doesn’t share the human-murdering tendencies, because he’s as big as a wolf and has his mouth in the middle of his body. Although his sensorial appendages are spread through his body, his eyes are usually up ‘top’ or in front.

I kneel to lay the offerings, food and minerals, on the small altar granted to my religion inside the large Ecumenic Chapel. I’m inside the Station orbiting around my home planet, Orbital 1 as they unimaginatively call it. Most of us don’t use altars, but inside a space station this will have to do. If someone had told me I’d be paying my respects to the orixás, my deities, inside an alien starship, I’d have thought them deranged and in serious need of psychiatric help.

Not that I felt comfortable talking about my religion in the poor neighborhood where I lived, on São Paulo’s periphery. The ‘Jesus’ Drug Traffickers’ had busted the terreiro I used to frequent since I had arrived from my homeland of Bahia. And no, I’m not joking, that’s what they call themselves. With or without a place of worship, I never let go of my religion. However, It had become an even greater part of me in this last year. With a thought, my VI obediently brings up my status screen to my overlay.

​

Imagine my surprise after applying to join the Unity Army, being told of my magical potential and that I had unknown blessings after having the N.O.O.B. Chip procedure. It took me three weeks to learn what they were on about. Cutting a long story short, I can only believe that one of the many secret rites my mother had me go through were responsible. She taught me much about Candomblé, but far from everything she knew. Ours is a secretive religion — and apparently full of ties to real magic. The axé is what we call the energy that permeates all things, and in hindsight it might very well be partly a reference to the mana that flowed more freely in the old times. Can’t say I’m updated at modern theology.

I rise and dust my pants off, turning to go meet my unit. Special Forces Terra-00. I nod to the few officers and people I know on my way out of the chapel, walking unhurriedly towards the nearest Mass Transit Station; it’s not far. The M.T. Tubes are a marvel to behold: fast, efficient and cheap - just the way Unity likes it from what I’ve been able to gather. There’s a small line for the public cars, but I have to call for one cleared to go to the Shuttle Dock. It takes but a minute and I’m on my way, clearing the time limit with no problems. Another five minutes suffering through alien elevator music and I’m disembarking to a small throng of people.

“Natalia!” Borbarium calls, waving to me and I trot towards him and the rest of the unit arrayed behind the alien.

“Took you long enough,” snarks Juan Carlos, the Argentine on our team with their typical Italian features. The poor sods think they’re almost European.

“Yeah, you beat a Brazilian at something, Juan! Congrats! You broke what? A forty year dry spell for your country?” I fire back and he grins, being a good sport about it. The football rivalry between Brazilians and hermanos as we call them runs deep enough to color many of our interactions.

“Behave, kids,” calls out Victor, the conciliatory South African of our team. An older man, he’s been rejuvenated and given a second wind by the Unity like many other old soldiers and veterans that decided to join.

“I think that’s our shuttle, boss,” Arjun signals to our leader. The short, scarred Iranian is the cliche silent type and the most battle-hardened member besides our alien leader. The nearly constant warring in Middle East makes for tough warriors.

There are a handful of shuttles being loaded with our gear for this secretive mission, so we line up in front of ours to make it easier. I glance to our sides and see other teams getting their affairs in order. It’s daunting to see so many different and exotic aliens together, and these are some of the finest Special Forces operatives that the Unity can spare to this space boondocks called the Solar System. They might not be the best of the best, but I know they are way ahead of us in both enhancements and team cohesion.

“Yeah! I hear we’ll be going after that gray-skinned motherfuckers!” calls out William behind me, the young American immaturity and cheerfulness a big contrast to Victor’s steady, nearly grandfatherly countenance. And it seems our mission is not that secretive anymore if William caught on to it. The boy does have a talent in gossiping, I’d bet it even appears on his Status page.

“A good cause if it’s true,” says Victor. “A fitting baptism by fire.”

Borbarium signals us to embark and we get a move on, imitating woodenly the extremely casual-like manners of the other teams. We already walk the walk, we just have to back it up now. Earth’s finest. That’s hard to believe as I see our leader huffing in annoyance and going back to drag our last two members, throughly entertained in some kind of game.

***​

Longcannon

“Are all the birds secured?” Longcannon asks the Second Lieutenant in charge of relaying Flight Control’s status.

“Two minutes, captain,” comes the nearly inaudible reply, and I can hear the XO sigh behind me at the timid junior officer.

“That’s it, they’re all on board, captain!” the Wanderlust sends to Longcannon, brimming with enthusiasm. The veteran AI, sitting on the captain chair in the center of a circle of consoles, just shakes her head minutely at the Wanderlust. Ship-based AIs nearly always take their vessel’s name for the duration of their duty and the Wanderlust is no exception. It’s a young and eager AI, not even a century old yet. It shouldn’t jump ahead of its crew unless it’s an emergency. At least it had the good sense to send a private message.

“Flight Control reports all birds secured, ship-bay secured,” speaks out - a bit - the lieutenant and the captain nods.

“Cargo-bay has given us the green light, captain,” adds Commander Daramya, the orange tinged executive officer, bobbing her short manipulator appendages. She’s the highest ranking officer Captain Garying left behind, Longcannon’s right-appendage for this trip.

“Very well. Light up the departure warning, XO. If you would, check the ships’ readiness, please.”

The Liagori executive officer nods as the lights turn noticeably redder and begins her task, promptly demanding status reports. Some are given by officers on the bridge, but many others by holograms springing around the captain’s chair, the respective officers reporting from their stations throughout the ship.

“Engineering, all green. Main reactor at 25%, Hull integrity at 100%.” Longcannon notes that this is her first contact with Lieutenant Agani-vim, the mythic fused to the Wanderlust’s engine and also the engineering officer saddled with reporting to the bridge. Longcannon smothers a grin as she imagines the holo showing the whole engine piece, but it just shows Agani as rough, rock-like floating head.

"Science. Sensors are up. Jump Drive is charging - 6 hours to full load," snaps an irritable Liagori scientist via holo-projection. Longcannon can tell he’s an old-timer by his fading magenta hue.

“Tactical, report,”

Oh, here we go, thinks Longcannon as the litany of unnecessary reports start coming in from the tactical team. Each sector gives a short, but detailed report: shields, cyber, spellroom, weapons… Carries a Longcannon can’t help but to think that this just sounds a lot like a waste of time. They can very well just signal their readiness by the ship’s system. But she knows people would complain that it’s tradition and affects crew morale; she has had that discussion before many times. AIs think of the fleshies as adaptable, but they are paradoxically so stuck in some ways.

“The Wanderlust is ready!” comes the audible reply from the ship, signaling and end to Longcannon’s pet peeve.

“All sectors sign green condition, captain,” reports the XO. They had agreed to keep some of the formalities Captain Garying had instilled in the crew, which had pleased the XO. Executive officers are the captains’ right-hand and also their immediate substitutes. It’s them that keep a finger on the pulse of the ship and its crew. If Garying hadn’t wanted to leave his right-hand behind, Longcannon would have insisted anyway.

Crew and their morale are of the utmost importance - an AI shouldn’t run by itself a ship it’s connected to. Not only because of the galactic treaties against it, but because… The saying that absolute power corrupts absolutely is not far from the truth - and to have a warship’s power at one’s fingertips looks a lot like absolute power to an AI inhabiting the vessel. AI’s as captains aren’t unheard of, but they usually lack some of the fleshies’ so-called gut-feelings. Intuition is often an area AI’s suffer at after all.

“Nav, plot the course I’ve just sent you.”

“Yes sir! Course plotted,” replies lieutenant commander Dheng, the veteran navigator Longcannon had brought with her to hopefully shorten their travel time on jump-space.

“Helmsbeing, light up the engines at a quarter speed,” Longcannon orders.

“Quarter speed, aye, aye, captain!” replies the Liagori lieutenant in charge of piloting the Wanderlust.

“First shift, call your replacements. You’re dismissed until one hour before our arrival at jump point. Wanderlust, please keep a countdown for all crew.”

“I relieve you, ma’am,” says LC Daramya as she approaches to take over the conn.

“I stand relieved. Until later, XO.”