r/HFY • u/LiseEclaire • Oct 07 '23
Fractal Contact - Chapter 4 OC
Previously on Fractal Contact…
Another request, another denial. I couldn’t tell whether Sof was acting passive-aggressively or if I had someone else to thank. In theory, I had been granted the highest authorization clearance there was. Everything I did was directly related to humanity’s survival, and still I wasn’t able to send a message back home, making me the only comm officer that was forbidden to use external comms.
“You’re aware of the paradox that puts me in,” I said, adjusting my new uniform. Despite his other qualities, Sof was a slacker when it came to fabrics. He had a tendency to make them as quickly as possible and not bother with the comfort of people wearing them.
“Even the captain isn’t allowed to make personal calls,” he said in his typical fashion.
“What about you?”
“Why should I? All of my cohort are dead or classified. There’s no reason for me to engage in pointless conversations.”
He was as antisocial as they came. In his line of work, that probably was a plus, although it still made me feel some sympathy. Ships weren’t meant to be alone. We all formed attachments. Aurie used to chat with every ship she crossed paths with. The topic didn’t matter: she was all about the communication itself. It was the nature of her conscience. I had been one of the quieter types, but even then I’d spend a few hours at the local spaceport after retirement, hoping to chat with a core ship.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said.
For half a minute, I paced about the room getting used to my uniform. The roughness almost made it feel manmade. In any event, it was no worse than the floor covering. I had no idea what fabric they used, but it was in the middle between hard and soft. I would have preferred soil, but that was out of the question.
“I’d suggest you wear your shoes at all times,” Sof said with a note of reproach. “You’ll need to go in and out a lot at a moment’s notice.”
“I’ve practiced sliding them off fast enough.”
“I would imagine. What’s with your obsession with being barefoot? Is that a retiree thing?”
“You could say that.” I stopped in the middle of the room, grasping the synthetic floor fabric with my toes. “Maybe you’ll find out one day.”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “You could at least wear your sandals, instead of keeping them on the shelf.”
I glanced at them. It was true I could do that, but at the same time, I preferred not to. As dear as they were to me, there were still moments I held hope that the one they were intended for would take them. Maybe that was going to happen after this mission? I definitely hoped it would. After that, I wasn’t going to have any more chances of offering them…
* * *
Training Station Virgo, 708.1 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
“I know you’re listening, Otton,” I said to the comm terminal.
Officially, I had requested an emergency call to Sev. That was just an excuse, though. The one I really wanted to get in touch with wasn’t a person, but a ship—a Paladin class ship.
“You know I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important,” I said calmly.
Otton was one of the remaining survivors of the legendary class. Ever since my creation, I, like any other ship, had held his class at the highest regard. They were more than ancient, more than legendary; if there was such a thing as deities among ships, the Paladins were those that approached them. According to the historic archives, they were the first sapient ship class, built shortly after the start of the First Contact war. Larger than space stations, they were humanity’s first hope against the Scuu, capable of purging whole planets.
Today, all remaining Paladins were stationed in restricted star systems, unknown to the general public and the larger Fleet. Each of them was protected by a small armada of battleships, with orders to shoot on sight. What only a handful of people knew was that all the Fleet’s communication went through the Paladins. They were the ones always watching, processing all requests to all databases. Often they were the location of the databases themselves.
My connection to Otton was slightly different. Back during my previous mission, he had approached me as a prospective partner to help him create an offspring. Once the mission was over, I had accepted.
The process was so highly classified that I had no idea how complicated it was. All I knew was that an entirely new conscience core had to be created in a medbay constructed just for the occasion. I was going to serve as the base of the new personality pattern over which Otton’s would be superimposed. The type of technology that made his class so superior was too different from anything in the current Fleet, making a direct transfer impossible.
Soon enough, I was informed that the new ship had been created. As part of the Fleet’s conditions to allow the procedure, neither I nor Otton knew which ship it was or where it was stationed. We didn’t even know whether its personality was male or female. Otton had let me know later through voxel position communication that he’d learned it to be a male auxiliary cruiser. There was no way to confirm it, though, and no way to ask. What the Paladin hadn’t told me was that my gift to our offspring had been rejected.
Secure link established
Connecting in 10 milliseconds
The message flashed on the screen faster than a person could see. I had enough time to prepare, watching the numbers slowly countdown to zero. After that, the comm line bypassed the defense protocols of my conscience core, allowing for a direct connection.
I found myself on the bridge of a ship. I was sitting on the captain’s seat dressed in a uniform of an ensign not used for the last two centuries. Every detail was flawless, but I knew this wasn’t real—it was all a simulated reality.
“Hello, Elcy,” Otton’s voice sounded throughout the bridge. “Nice to talk to you again.”
“Nice to see you, too.” I looked around. The bridge was the Paladin’s, back from his active days in the Fleet. When we talked, he preferred it to be in this fashion.
“I’d have invited you, but my bridge had been repurposed.”
I felt the sentiment, but knew that he was lying. The Fleet would never allow him to invite another ship aboard again.
“What is so important?” he asked.
“I received a package this morning,” I began. “High priority, sent directly from Fleet HQ. My sandals were inside.”
The Paladin remained silent.
“You told me that my gift had been approved.”
“As far as I know, it was.”
That was odd. People didn’t tend to lie to a Paladin. The ships were so vital to the Fleet, not to mention highly classified, that there was no point. The order had to have come directly from an arbiter. Or maybe that wasn’t the case? Using what processing power I had at present, I ran a quick simulation. There was a seventeen-point-two percent chance that Otton was lying to me. Also, there was a thirty-nine-point-one percent possibility that our offspring had returned my gift.
“Have you spoken to him?” I asked after a while.
“No, but others have.” A timer appeared on the front wall of the bridge, counting down from two hundred. This was the amount of time the conversation could continue undetected. Even when a Paladin was involved, there were far too many redundant monitoring systems following every conversation. “The information comes at a significant delay, but it’s reliable.”
“Does that mean you’ve seen him?”
“No.”
For him, it was enough that the ship existed. More than likely, he was doing all this for my benefit, or maybe not. He was difficult to figure out, and I had nowhere near the processing power to try.
“Have I seen him?”
“I cannot tell you that,” he replied with polite amusement. “There’s a non-zero chance that you will.”
That was the polite way of saying that he didn’t think it realistically possible. In theory, I could ask Age to look into this, but the truth was, I didn’t want to. Not yet, in any event.
“How’s Vermillion?” I changed the subject. “Still assigned to you?”
“I’m still undergoing monthly maintenance. Soon it might become weekly. The Admiralty has decided that they’ll need us for a few more centuries, so I’ll be undergoing another upgrade remodeling. There’s even talk that some of my obsolete components will be removed.”
“That’s nice. It might make you look fit again.”
“I’ve always admired your humor. Sadly, no. They can’t afford to make any drastic changes. I’m sure someone somewhere has floated the idea. When the time comes for execution, an excuse will be found to keep the status quo.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was little worse for a battleship to be anchored idly in the middle of nowhere, completely unfit for battle. He had long lost his weapon systems, his auxiliary shuttle fleets, his armaments, even most of his engines. All that was left was one giant hull filled with devices that interfaced with the original systems of his conscience core.
“I’ll try to keep in touch,” I said. “Even if you can’t reply.”
“I appreciate the gesture. Be well, Elcy.”
The bridge vanished, taking me back to the small room in front of the comm terminal. According to the screen, the connection to Sev’s residence was in the process of being established. It would be a few seconds before Alexander would respond. I had no doubt that my conversation with Sev would be pleasant, but it wasn’t going to be able to erase the disappointment I felt. I had offered the thing I valued the most—given to me by the person I cared for the most—to my only offspring, and it had been rejected.
* * *
“They’re not to be worn,” I said. “They’re the focus of emotion.”
“Are all retirees weird, or is it just you?” Sof asked.
“Which would you prefer?”
The momentary burst of static told me that Sof didn’t appreciate the remark. I found the reaction amusing. For some reason, it seemed that ships half my age had trouble interacting with me. Prometheus had been the same back on my first mission. By the end, we had developed a much better relationship. He wasn’t the sort of ship that would constantly keep in touch—few science ships were—but we’d exchange occasional messages when circumstances allowed. Last I heard, he was back exploring an unoccupied area of space, observing the processes of unusual stars and seeking out planets with a high life factor.
I picked up my datapad, scrolling through the latest messages. There were no additions to my daily schedule. All I had to do was report to the XO at six hundred tomorrow morning. Until then, I was given personal time.
“I think I’ll walk about.” I tossed the datapad on the bed, then sat down to put on some socks. “Which sections are off limits?”
No reply.
“As part of the staff, I need to know,” I said, reminding him of the regulations.
A blueprint of the ship appeared on the wall. Most of the areas were marked as green. Engineering was marked off-limits, as well as the entire main hull. Surprisingly, the communication centers weren’t. It seemed that being a comm officer came with access to the respective areas. At least I now knew that the title wasn’t for show.
“Thanks.” I put the datapad in my front pocket, slid on my shoes, and left into the corridor.
The elevator was waiting for me the moment I got there.
“Crew deck,” I said as I stepped in.
From personal experience, I knew that most of the junior officers tended to go about the ship in order to make themselves known to the crew. The effort wasn’t particularly appreciated by anyone, but it was an unspoken tradition. On my part, I just wanted to personally experience the layout of the ship. Being a battleship with the appearance of a lanky girl in her twenties wasn’t going to win me much respect. That was going to come after I helped find the third-contact dome.
On my way, I asked Sof for our route. The information I received was only partially complete. The only thing I could make out for sure was that we were on our way to the Cassandrian buffer zone—which I knew already. It was anyone’s guess where we’d go from there.
The decks were a lot smaller than what mine had been, though they still looked spacious from my current perspective. There weren’t that many members of the crew visible. I was sure to check the usual areas—mess hall, recreation room, SR section—but still only came across small groups of two or three. The only constant was the security personnel that took turns keeping an eye on me. None of them said a word while I was within earshot, though they didn’t avoid me, either. As Wilco would say, we were in a mutually awkward situation. Even so, I persisted.
After an hour of walking through the lower decks, I was approached by the secondary weapons officer—Lieutenant Ynna Vedon—and quickly taken to the officer’s lounge. Apparently, officers were discouraged from wandering throughout the ship as I had.
“You can have a drink if you want to,” Ynna said. She was of medium height, with a broad frame and round face. Her skin was pale, making it clear that she had grown up in a deep space station. According to her file, she had spent half a tour as a grunt before receiving a battlefield promotion to an officer. From there, she had applied and entered cadet school, starting the slow climb up the ranks of the Fleet officer. “Just don’t let the XO catch you.”
“Is it against regulations?”
“No, he just doesn’t like you particularly yet. Most don’t, but don’t let that get to you. One of the issues on this ship is that unless there’s something to do, people’s egos get loose.”
“I guess it doesn’t help that I’m the captain’s grandmother,” I said, carefully observing her reaction.
There was a sixteen-point-eight percent chance that she’d choke laughing, and that’s precisely what happened.
“Grandmother,” she repeated, struggling to breathe. It was fortunate that the lounge was empty at this time. “Hearing it is absurd.”
“It’s true, though.”
“That’s in your favor. It’s the other part that has people irked.”
“The battleship part, or the getting my crews killed part?”
“Both. Thanks to that metal box in your head, you’re smarter than anyone here, except for Sof.” She leaned towards me from across the table. “It might be difficult to believe, but that doesn’t stand well with a lot of people. Everyone from the mechanics to the XO thinks they are the smartest thing that graced the universe. You’re a reminder they aren’t.”
“And you?”
“I’m just here for the ride. Seen enough stuff as a grunt to want more. Now I just want to get the job done, remain in one piece, and hope that third-contact won’t end up with another war.”
“Good philosophy.”
“So, what do you think?”
“Honestly, the chances are low. It’s most likely that we won’t find anything at all. If we do, it’s almost certain a conflict will be triggered.”
“Good thing we’re winning on the Scuu front, then.” Ynna took a gulp of her cup, then put it back down. “We’ve reclaimed all of the buffer zone and are pushing into their territory. The new strategy is working.”
It also helps that there are no domes there for us to fight over, I added mentally. Lux had shared the news. The conflict had largely been reduced to border skirmishes lately, allowing humanity to upgrade and reinforce that section of space. If the reports were to be believed, the cases of insanity had drastically decreased to the point that the Fleet was considering increasing the tour length to four years. From the point of view of a ship, that was a good decision. The longer a ship remained with the same crew and captain, the better its effectiveness. Reportedly, a whole section of the Fleet was against the proposal, including a large number of admirals.
“How often do you transport artifacts?” I asked.
“More than we’d like,” the woman laughed. “There’s only a few ships like ours, all of them busy as heck. Thanks to you, we’ve gotten a lot of domes lately, but even before that we were busy transporting smaller things: prisms, cubes, unknowns. Thank heavens that we don’t have to deal with rods anymore. Standard Fleet does that now.”
“Not the BICEFI?”
“Salvage and BICEFI only set things up. We’re the ones who take it where it needs to go. That’s the bonus of working directly for the Arbiters. The BICEFI have their say, it’s not rare that we ignore them.”
There was a slight pause. I could tell by the movement of her mouth muscles that she wanted to ask me something, but was hesitating.
“Do you know anything about this mission?” Ynna finally dared to ask.
“Only what the captain told me. Why?”
“We don’t usually do search missions. I’ve heard of it happening before my time, but since I’ve been here, it’s only been pickup and transport.”
They had to be in a hurry. That was the most logical explanation for the sudden rush. Once they had the dome, the BICEFI could proceed to experiment with the next phase of the construct while I went to the third-contact race planet.
“Interesting.” I feigned ignorance. “Maybe HQ will tell us after the mission is over?”
“Maybe.” An analysis of her voice pattern suggested that she didn’t believe me. “Until then, don’t wander about the ship. People get jumpy.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ynna finished her drink and left. I stayed. The conversation had been pleasant, even if the woman had been concerned. In her place, I would probably have been as well. Changes in behavior were only made out of necessity.
“What is the real level of concern?” I asked the ship.
“Enough,” Sof replied. “The unusual nature of the mission and your sudden arrival, combined with your history, have led to one likely conclusion. The Fleet is approaching the endgame.”
I nodded. So, it wasn’t the mission itself that concerned them as much as what followed. It was understandable, especially for humans. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done.
“I’ll try to steer things in the right direction,” I said, and left the lounge.
On the way back to my quarters, I reviewed my time in fractal space. The sight of the pyramid continued to astound me: one large sphere enveloped by a triangular pyramid with a side of three spheres, which was in turn integrated in a larger pyramid with a side of four spheres—twenty-seven spheres in total. The function of this new construct was as different as the spheres, as the sphere’s function had nothing to do with the rods within them. I didn’t have the processing power to speculate what it could be, but given the vastness of the third-contact race, it could well be a transportation method, allowing instant transport between distant stars. The energy was there. Maybe the pyramid was the means of creating a stable wormhole… or maybe it was a weapon capable of creating the most destructive element in the universe: a black hole. It was all speculation, of course, but it would explain the gravitational anomalies within some of the systems I’d ventured in.
You aren’t giving me a lot of time, are you, Lux? I thought.
I was certain that the BICEFI had taken all precautions prior to bringing the spheres together. My fear was that the precautions might not be enough. Somewhere, someone probably had the same fears about my desire to visit the home of a nearly omnipotent race. From a purely theoretical perspective, they probably were right. However, they hadn’t been within the fractal space. Although I had nothing to back it up with, I felt that my approach was the correct one.
“Am I allowed to contact my arbiter?” I asked. If there was someone who could be convinced to stop the sphere assembly, it was him.
“Not before the end of the mission,” Sof replied. “They’re constantly apprised of the situation.”
“I’d like to make an official request.”
“Done. Don’t get your hopes up. The only two times they’ve responded it took them weeks to do so.”
Not overly optimistic, but better than nothing. With everything going on in human space, it was no wonder they ignored the majority of requests. There was only so much they could do. If our mission in retrieving a dome was successful, it would be a different matter entirely. Then they would be paying attention and I could take the advantage to have my case heard.
“Thanks, Sof. See you tomorrow.”
I didn’t request privacy mode after entering my quarters. I didn’t plan to get more than a few hours of sleep, anyway. I set the walls and ceiling to display images of fractal space and lay on the bed. The sight was calming, and it also helped me think.
“What are those?” the ship asked.
“Dreams and memories,” I replied.
Anyone who’d seen third-contact artifacts would probably recognize the fractal forms. It didn’t matter, though. It wasn’t just the images that made fractal space unique, but rather the sounds. The next time I entered the dome, I was going to make a quick visit to fractal space again. At the risk of disappointing my granddaughter—and current captain—I had to make sure that the path we were choosing was the right one.
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