Estimated communication reactivation in thirty seconds.

　　The light was enough to make those on shift stir. The first few times the message had appeared, there was eagerness and curiosity, mixed with a moderate amount of fear. In the last thirty hours, all that had disappeared, replaced by the boredom of the routine.

　　"Stations," I said.

　　For the last day and half, we had been crawling in the debris field. The belt of fragments had caused some minor damage, though by no means serious. Every now and again, we`d slow down to steer clear of a gravitational anomaly, or to emerge in the hopes of receiving a transmission from the fleet.

　　"Think we`ll get something?" Corporal Viera asked. Technically, he was in charge of the squad proper, me and Kridib being outsiders. Since the start of the mission, though, he had decided to take a backseat.

　　"Maybe," I lied. We hadn`t gotten anything in the last twenty comm windows. The chances that we would now were insignificant. For all we knew, we could be the only human ship remaining in the system. "We`re in the comm window," I said as the counter on the ceiling reached zero.

　　There wasn`t a firm time when communications came back up. Sometimes it took a few minutes from the estimate; for others, it was close to an hour.

　　"What are the odds, ma`am?" a grunt asked.

　　"Point-zero-zero-three for a direct transmission," I replied. "We still could get chatter."

　　No one asked the follow-up question—what are the chances of getting infected? So far, everyone`s behavior remained within standard parameters. A single directed info burst from the Scuu could change everything in an instant, and that didn`t take into account any residual buildup. We were still clinging to the hope that the debris field provided some protection& there was nothing else we could do.

　　I removed all opacity from my helmet. Kridib did the same. For some reason, he had refused to sleep since my stunt at Marker One. He`d always sit across from me, his helmet set to full opacity, only reacting when he had to. We`d use our connection to know when communications were restored, but we`d never talk. I had made a few attempts to hook to his brain again, to no avail. The only thing I kept seeing was blackness.

　　"HQ`s grouping a fleet," someone said. "All we have to do is survive three days and they`ll come."

　　"No one`s coming for us." Viera suppressed a sigh.

　　"They`ll come for her," the grunt pointed at me. "And for what`s in the system. There`re more ship parts in this field than the entire front. Even without that alien shit, Salvage won`t let this go. Or the Gregorius."

　　Three days—the priority one response time. Anyone in the fleet who had glanced at the strategy manual knew that number. When the fleet needed to fight for a strategic resource, they had to gather as large a force as they could and send it off within three days. After that, the objective was considered lost by default. It was a logical assumption, but what wasn`t written in the manual was that the fleet had no obligation to do anything. Systems, even strategic ones, were frequently lost. Sometimes they would be abandoned, sometimes there would be a tactical retreat until a strong enough force could form. I had seen it on the Cassandrian front more times than I could count. There, no one viewed the three-day rule seriously. Reinforcements either came or they didn`t. The only thing we could rely on was being sent off from one battle to the next without rest.

　　A series of comm request protocols attempted to establish connection with my core. I accepted them, establishing my comm link with Kridib. Ten milliseconds later, the shuttle AI changed the message on the ceiling.

　　Communications restored.

　　Keep the connection open, I told Kridib. I might need human confirmation.

　　Sure. He didn`t seem happy about it.

　　"Shuttle, start a three-minute countdown," I said. "Move us to the surface."

　　"Aye, ma`am," the pilot said through comm.

　　The sound of fragments bumping off the outer hull filled the cargo section. At this point, everyone had become an expert at determining the exact moment we would exit the debris—the closer we got to the surface, the denser the fragments became. Second by second, the bumping intensified, until suddenly it vanished altogether.

　　"Check visuals," I said as I focused on passive receiving.

　　"Nothing in vicinity, ma`am," the pilot replied. "No transmission either."

　　"All external sensors?" I asked.

　　"Not seeing anything. Seems we`re safe."

　　We`re safe, but we don`t have any backup either.

　　So far, we had passed the middle of the debris ring. Initially, I had given the order to keep collecting samples as we went along. It was a stupid idea, but at least it had kept everyone`s mind off the current predicament. Kridib had backed me up. After eighteen hours, though, I had countermanded the order. There was only so much smoke and mirrors that could pass. If we were in a group of rookies, it would have been different.

　　Based on my calculations, if I risked sending a transmission, there was a thirty-nine percent chance that we attracted the attention of the Scuu. At the same time, there was a seventy-eight percent chance that the fleet received our message and responded in some fashion. Not the best odds, but worth the risk.

　　They aren`t my crew, I told myself.

　　If I were alone, I wouldn`t hesitate to send transmissions every chance I got. With a team of troopers, though, the math changed significantly. If Augustus was part of the crew, he would have ordered me to make the call, Gibraltar would have forbade it, and as for Cass& she`d likely have let me decide.

　　"Get ready for an emergency burst into the debris," I said. "On my order."

　　Kridib looked up. It was a good guess that he knew what I was planning.

　　"And get a beacon ready."

　　"What`s the plan, ma`am?" Corporal Viera asked.

　　"I`ll be sending a message to HQ. After that, we`re showing the beacon."

　　From what I knew about the grunts, there was a sixty-three percent chance that someone objected. For the next three thousand and seventy milliseconds, no one said a word. Then the reactions began. Half of the group turned to Kridib; being perceived as the "second in command," they waited for him to say the words. Two seconds later, when he made it clear he wouldn`t get involved, they turned to Viera.

　　"That`s the optimal solution." I didn`t have the time to wait them out. "We shove the beacon, I send a message, then we head off for the second planet. If the Scuu see us, chances are they ignore us until they have retaken the system."

　　"Wasn`t the mission on the first planet?" Ilian, the pilot of the group, asked.

　　"It was."

　　Big risk, Kridib said in my core. The Scuu don`t need to be close to scramble our brains.

　　We have enough food tubes to last for a week. Three if we do extreme rations. The longer we stay, the smaller our chances.

　　The fleet might come.

　　They won`t. If I send the transmission, though, they might.

　　Chaos erupted. The grunts that had been silent were now talking over each other. Like Augustus used to say, everyone had an opinion, and for the most part, it stank.

　　What`s on the planet? Kridib asked.

　　An artifact. It`s important enough for the BICEFI to send a fleet to get it. All I need is to tell them about it.

　　It`s that important?

　　That important, I replied.

　　Important enough for the fleet to sacrifice a few armadas trying to get it, or destroy it so it was out of reach of the Scuu. As far as I knew, no one had seen a third-contact dome so close to a marker system. There was a certain irony that our only hope of salvation lay in me telling Lux the exact thing I didn`t want her to know.

　　"We go with the plan," Kridib said, making all the commotion stop. I had won him over. "Set up the beacon. You—" He pointed at me "—get your message ready."

　　Two troopers scrambled to get the beacon active. Protocols demanded that there be double confirmation before it could be launched. As they did, I composed my message; I had already prepared what I wanted to say, but encrypting it, even with a simple cypher, was going to take a while.

　　"Ninety seconds till end of window," a grunt reminded.

　　The counter appeared on the shuttle ceiling. Statistically, the comm windows had lasted for that long at least.

　　"Thirty-two seconds left for the encryption." I didn`t feel like taking any chances. "How`s the beacon getting along?"

　　"Getting there, ma`am." The grunt was tapping on the panel screen. There was a high-pitched confirmation beep, after which the panel went dark. "All set."

　　"Twenty-seven seconds," I said. "Plot a direct course to the inner part of the ring, I`ll go over it later. Avoid any pearl clusters."

　　"Already ahead of you, ma`am," the pilot said. "Straight line, no anomalies. Waiting for your order."

　　The seconds counted down. From what I had observed, there was a direct link between silence and the hope-to-threat ratio of a situation. When there was a chance of success, regardless of the circumstances, everyone would focus on nothing else, as if their actions had the power to determine the outcome.

　　"Ready," I said. Immediately, everyone strapped in their seats. "Eject the beacon."

　　A loud sound, similar to a muffled engine, passed through me, followed by the confirmation message on the ceiling. A hundred milliseconds later, I transmitted my message, using the shuttle`s comm system as an amplifier. Everything was supposed to be there: our present situation, my discovery regarding the debris field, and the dome located on the planet. There was only one problem—there was a forty-one percent chance that the last statement was a lie.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

　　"Done. Emergency burst!" I shouted.

　　Gravity pushed me to the side as acceleration picked up. Furious rattling went all over the shuttle`s outer hull.

　　"Any signals, ma`am?" Viera asked.

　　"Nothing."

　　"Want me to keep close to the surface, ma`am?" the pilot shouted from the front. "Won`t be much worse than now."

　　"If there`s anything, we`ll hear the static. We`ll check during the next window." I set my helmet to full opaque. "I`ll get some rest. Talk to you in an hour."

　　After I secured my straps, I closed my eyes. I was hoping I`d get a dream about my second captain and Sword of Wands, but no dream came. When I opened my eyes again, we were an estimated hour and thirteen minutes from the next window.

　　"Kridib?" I looked around.

　　His helmet was opaque, and he wasn`t the only one. From what I could see, only three people had their visors transparent—the agreed indication that they were on shift. The moment they saw my visor turn clear, they stopped talking.

　　"Tube, ma`am?" one of the grunts asked, holding a large blue capsule.

　　"Thanks." I nodded.

　　The soldier tossed it my way. Not the best aim, but I managed to catch it without disturbing the person next to me. The ident marking specified the item as a Ration Seven food tube—all the minerals and nutrients required to keep a soldier going in the heat of battle without leaving their suit. On the Cassandrian front troopers used to call them intravenous snacks, and did everything possible to avoid consuming them. It wasn`t the taste—there was no taste—it was the slight nausea that came with the injection. I attached the food tube to the suit`s food port and issued the command. A clicking sound echoed in my ears. Seconds later, the empty tube was ejected.

　　Two weeks on those, I thought. If Radiance hadn`t been lost, we would have continued eating those until we reached the first planet of the system. Thankfully, now, we`d only endure them for half a week.

　　"I`ll check on the pilot." I tossed the tube back to the grunt. "Anything while I was out?"

　　"Nothing but bumps and silence, ma`am," the man replied.

　　"Enjoy it while it lasts." I made my way to the pilot`s cabin.

　　Technically, there were supposed to be two pilots on duty at all times. Considering that we had no chance in evading any attack done by the Scuu, I had given them some slack. Between me, the AI, and whichever of the three pilots was awake, there was enough skill to evade anything we had the means to react to.

　　"Morning, ma`am," the pilot said. He was one of the older people in the squad, a veteran combat shuttle fighter who had spent over a decade dealing with threats in human space. His record never mentioned why he had been sent to the front, and I didn`t ask. The only thing I could tell was that he didn`t mind being here; didn`t like it, either.

　　"It`s not morning, Wondrew." I took the seat next to him.

　　"It`s always morning, ma`am. Things are better when it`s morning."

　　Can`t argue with that.

　　"How`s our course?"

　　"Twenty-eight hours till the edge of the zone." He shrugged. "Give or take. Could go faster if you want me to force it."

　　"No need. We`ll need instructions before we adjust our course."

　　"What instructions?" Kridib`s voice asked, making the pilot twitch briefly.

　　Still using your sound suppressors?

　　"Fuck, kid!" The pilot turned around from his seat. It was clear he had a whole lot more to say, but managed to restrain himself soon enough.

　　"What instructions?" the corporal repeated.

　　"Coordinates." I looked up and over my shoulder. "If we don`t get them in the next three windows, things might be a bit difficult."

　　"You said that wouldn`t matter."

　　"It shouldn`t," I lied. "I want to have backup options."

　　If I were a human, there wouldn`t be a soul on the shuttle that would have believed me. Being a ship, though, made things seem much more realistic. I had often wondered why ships were allowed freedom to the degree they were. Granted, when I was in my old husk, there were a lot more restrictions, as well as periodic thought checks to make sure I wasn`t in danger of going rogue. Back then, I had only lied to decrease stress among officers, or if instructed. After retiring, I found that I could do it with a far greater ease& especially when third-contact things were concerned.

　　"What options?" There was an edge in Kridib`s voice.

　　I calculated the odds. I could tell him that no one on the shuttle was cleared for the info, and it would be the truth, but that wasn`t going to go well. In a best-case scenario, morale would fall to the point that someone aboard would do something stupid. At worst, Kridib might try to send a bullet through my core.

　　"If we don`t get a response, I`ll link in the Scuu network."

　　"Holy shit," I heard the pilot whisper.

　　"I`ve done it before."

　　Rigel had shown me. Back on the prison planet I had seen the exact configuration he had used—the shape and position of every rod, the pyramids he had collected from the Scuu probes, as well as the fractal sequence needed to activate it.

　　"As long as I get the Scuu artifacts, it`ll be easy," I added. "I`ll take an auxiliary shuttle and move a safe distance away. If I mess it up, you should be okay."

　　"And the side effects?" Kridib asked.

　　"There won`t be any."

　　He still seemed hesitant.

　　"I`m not Rigel. It`ll be safe. I`ll just see what I need to, then get out. It`s better than any other alternative."

　　"You keep repeating that."

　　"Because I have the knowledge of facts you don`t and have the processing power to take them into consideration," I snapped. In that moment, I felt like the epitome of fleet bureaucracy and I hated it.

　　My entire existence I had seen people express the same opinions& I had expressed them. It was a running joke that fleet bureaucracy couldn`t be trusted. Everyone knew it was cumbersome, ineffective, and random to the point that it became absurd. What if under all that idiocy, there was a plan in place? The fleet rarely gave reasons for their orders. Things that I had viewed as illogical made sense once I had learned about the third-contact artifacts. Separate elements now seemed connected, and all that was with the scant amount of knowledge I had managed to obtain thanks to the mind scalpel code that Age had given me. Did the shuttle crew view me the same way? Most likely.

　　"If there`s no change, you won`t make it past a week," I continued. "You know how the fleet reacts to scavengers."

　　"Where do we get the artifacts?" the pilot asked, breaking the tension. We both looked at him. "You said you need artifacts to make this thing work. Where do you get those?"

　　"Look around, Wondrew. We`re surrounded by Scuu artifacts." I smiled. "All we must do is get them."

　　"Holy shit&"

　　There was no transmission during the next window nor the one that followed. With each one we missed, I watched the stress rise. The jokes came first, with a hint of sourness in them, the fake laughs, stories of the past, then reminiscing. Then came the bitterness, the angry looks, soon hidden behind full opacity settings. Now that we were approaching the third window, there was only silence. As Augustus had taught me, even when silent, people whispered.

　　"Odds?" Kridib asked.

　　"Seven percent." We should have started gathering rods. "Maybe less."

　　Estimated communication reactivation in thirty seconds.

　　The message appeared as before.

　　"At least we`re at single digit odds," Corporal Viera muttered. "Prep up. We`re heading out."

　　The procedure was the same as before. The shuttle made its way through the surface layer of debris. Once there, we waited. The counter reached zero, then went on, counting the amount of time after the estimation. Statistically, there was no reason for anyone to behave any differently than before. We had gone through this fourteen times so far, and yet one simple fact had changed everyone`s attitude more than I had calculated. Before, they were seeking any news about what was going on in the system. After I had told them about my transmission, they felt they were owed a message from HQ.

　　"What if there`s no message?" a grunt asked.

　　"We check the next window," Kridib replied. "Same as before."

　　I had gone through the plan in detail with him via our mind link during the last two comm windows. That hadn`t swayed him. He had made it clear he opposed the idea, leading to a compromise. If there was no response from the fleet by the third window, we`d go with my plan. It was as if he wanted to die on the shuttle& just like the time he had faced the Scuu spinner. The worst part was that I could feel him pleading for me to do what his brain implant wouldn`t let him—kill him and get it over with.

　　"Fifteen minutes," the pilot on shift said. "Want me to go back in, ma`am?"

　　"Give it half an hour," I replied. "If comms are still severed by then, take us back in." And then we can start with the plan.

　　"Fifteen more minutes, aye, ma`am."

　　The new frontier breaks, the old front bends, I said to myself.

　　It was a true statement, though not entirely correct. The Scuu front didn`t bend; it twisted slowly, bit by bit, until reality itself seemed different. All priorities, reasoning, even the perception of reality had changed to the point that the past didn`t seem real. This front was its own microcosm, one that some weren`t able to leave.

　　When the Administrator had made her offer a month ago, it had seemed so straightforward. I knew there would be dark op elements; I had grown accustomed to them. It had started as a simple mission aboard an experimental station ship class. An exploration mission, she had said. Even back then, I suspected it was code for a prelude to war with the third-contact race. What I couldn`t have predicted, even with my former processing power, was the effect the Scuu would have on the mission. It was like attempting to move in a straight line through a system of orbiting gravity wells—even with all the precautions, they pulled me towards them until the initial trajectory was gone, and the only thing I could do was strive to escape from one well while moving to the next. The former captain`s death, the mission to get a new captain, Lux`s involvement, even the star marker and the discovery of the Shields& none of that had anything to do with the reason I was assigned here, and at the same time it did. It was like multiple overlapping realities, affecting each other but at the same time separated.

　　Twenty minutes past estimated communication reactivation.

　　The message on the ceiling changed, written in bright red letters. Even the AI knew our prospects were bad. Everyone in the shuttle department was tense. I saw Kridib activate his sound suppressors, then slowly move his hand in the direction of his sidearm holster. Based on my simulation, he could easily take half of the team out before a response. If I tried to interfere, the amount of casualties was likely to be reduced to three, with me among them.

　　Twenty-one minutes and still nothing. There was a thirty-nine percent chance that the tension would blow over once the half hour was up. It was almost as likely that things would result in a full riot.

　　Communications restored.

　　I heard several grunts exhale in their comms. A millisecond later, I received fleet communication protocols. The ident was masked, but the authorization was marked as coming from Fleet Intelligence. Also, it wasn`t encrypted.

　　"Open message from Fleet Intelligence," the shuttle`s AI said, patching into everyone`s comm. "General priority one announcement. The star system has been classified as non-entry. Communications from within are to be blocked until further notice. All in-system ships are to remain dark for the next ninety-six hours."

　　The orders seemed generally vague in the best fleet tradition, as if it were a ready response. I could see the real message. My transmission had been received, possibly along with other ones. The information had been considered valuable enough for the fleet to classify and isolate the system. At the same time, the estimated threat kept them from outright entering the system until they had amassed a large enough armada. Until then, we were on our own.

　　"Get us back in the belt," I said. "We won`t be getting help."

　　The pilot obeyed without confirming the order.

　　"Well, we got a message," a grunt said. "What now?"

　　"You heard the order," Viera said through his teeth. "We go dark and wait for four days. We`re starting food rations. Check the tubes. One per two days."

　　"There`s no guarantee they`ll come by then," I stated the obvious. "The tubes are unlikely to last us& but there`s another solution."

　　"What?" the corporal snapped briskly, standing up. "Another plan? We saw what the last one did. I`m not—"

　　"She wants to build a Scuu device," Kridib interrupted. "The same one we found on the planet."

　　Normally I`d intervene, but this time I decided to wait a few thousand milliseconds. All of them had been part of that mission and were privy to a number of confidential details. As far as they were concerned, they knew more about the incident than I did.

　　"There`s probably junk in the Scuu remains. We search through the debris, build a device, and plug her in. Then we hope for the best."

　　"That`s the plan?" Viera turned towards me.

　　"That`s the plan."

　　"You`re crazy! That thing will burn our minds. Even if it doesn`t, it`ll get every Scuu to our position. You can`t expect I`ll risk any of my men to—"

　　"You won`t be risking anything. I`ll gather the artifacts and assemble the device. You`ll just keep a lookout. Can`t be worse than what we`re in already."

　　"It always can be worse," the man whispered. By the sound of his voice, I could tell I had one.

　　He`s not wrong, Kridib said. There were only three Scuu ships round the planet. With the amount here, we can all die or become puppets.

　　That`s what you`re for. If anything unexpected happens, you`ll shoot my core. That`s why you`re on the mission.

　　Kridib severed the link. Based on my observation there was an eighty-seven percent chance I was correct. It was very likely he had tried to kill me during Mission Orpheus, until his orders had changed. If I failed, he had a chance to finish the job. For the sake of both of us, if the time came, I hoped he would be more reliable than back on the planet.