Ten Years Earlier, Aboard the Alecto

Far from Cassandre's adventures, ten years ago, two admirals were conducting a routine inspection aboard an isolated, disarmed vessel. Though this interlude may appear unrelated to our main narrative, the fates of these past and future figures will soon intertwine.

The Admiralty Council had five members, of whom three, in the opinion of the other two, were doing absolutely nothing, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Ravzan wore his blue and gold uniform crisply; his white hair was slicked back, his movements economical, always seeming about to say something without ever murmuring it. Legend had it that he had never undergone any genetic enhancement, and that he still occasionally fell ill, even displaying the marks of aging as early as sixty.

Ravzan regarded his counterpart, well, his superior, as he presided over the council, with the mindset one reserves for a necessary evil. This superior was Tohil, who since his appointment had grown plump and ruddy like a peasant from ancient times, and whose collar, adorned with five stars, seemed to beg to be undone so he could breathe. In a way, Tohil was the worst kind of admiral: he had a dual reputation for charging in headfirst and flying into rages when criticized for itrages he would forget the very next second.

Yet if there were such a thing as a judge of character, he would be absolved: Tohil was a war hero, the kind who charged the front lines with his soldiers screaming that rest would come in the After, and who knew how to make the right call. He was also not fundamentally xenophobic, even if he never held back from ranting crudely about the Xenos' inability to understand our world, which, in a society where an entire stiff-lipped administration praised our non-human allies while secretly thinking the worst of them, was actually refreshing. In many ways, Tohil was the opposite of Ravzan, and liked to imagine that together they formed a wise and balanced two-headed being.

A war was raging in a section of space on the border between the HS and the League of Antioch, more precisely around Caliban-1, a grim and insignificant rock shrouded in clouds as opaque as they were suffocating. The reason for the war never really interested the military, the entire army operates on how, not why. The Stellar Fleet maintained minor skirmishes along this border. Military command had politely stated that this conflict was far too anecdotal for the Admiralty Council, and Tohil, after shouting his head off and hurling a table down a hallway, failing to break a window with it, had abruptly accepted the matter and moved on. He had swallowed the fact that, in the eyes of the HS Council, the Admiralty Council was merely a pre-After retirement home for old glories whose opinions would always matter less than those of the AIs.

On the agenda that day, the admiral duo was reviewing a decommissioned ship: the Alecto, so old it belonged to classes no longer taught in military school. In this case, an "Anicroche"a stellar corvette with no shields, designed to jump into battlefields unexpectedly, strike a weak point with a missile volley, then vanish just as fast. The Alecto bore the clean lines of a bygone era, a wide, fearsome prow that struck fear before it struck hulls, a steel coloring that spoke to mass production, and sleek curves along its flanks for better movement through thin atmospheres. It was the kind of ship found in adventure novels.

Tohil was especially thrilled by the visit, having once served as the Alecto's captain, now repurposed as both a museum and a scientific lab. "Thrilled" wasn't even enough: he was awestruck. As they moved through corridors lined with walls aglow from bioluminescent plants, he couldn't stop gushing:

"Tell me, Rav, who's the captain? Did he make all these changes? Damn, I was on the Endymion Ananké ten days ago, and I swear, this good old Alecto, even if I barely recognize her, looks straight out of drydock." (He rapped on the wall.) "Everything looks brand new."

Ravzan inhaled to respond, but as usual, Tohil turned his head like a pointer dog. A Xenoa creature resembling a wingless wasp the size of a large dog, was advancing down the corridor, reading something on a portable terminal with its large single eye. The Xeno paused, stood upright, and saluted the admirals with dignified composure.

"…Uh," Tohil murmured. "Are you a sailor?"

A smooth, pleasant voice echoed in their minds: "I am a seconded personnel. My name here is Gamma. At your service."

With an irritated wave, Tohil dismissed it. Once out of earshot, he grumbled to Ravzan… a Xeno, a telepath… what if it's drilled into our minds and extracted everything confidential? A point down for our brilliant captain. Whose name is?

"Andreï."

"Andreï what?"

"Just Andreï."

"I expected a name-name, if you know what I mean. One of those intellectuals who plant flowers on battlefields and turn Anicroches into museums."

A sailor appeared and saluted the Admirals. Due to a grim accident during his early years, Ravzan's body had been reinforced with circuits, and protocol required ships to deactivate any devices emitting certain magnetic fields that could interfere with his internal mechanics. He was assured that this order had been carried out, and Tohil dismissed the sailor again with an inelegant wave.

"Any major element in his career? The Captain's?"

"A significant one: he was enrolled in the Lodovico program."

"Oh hell," said Tohil, squinting, "I only remember the trial, with the Transient. Never been so glad not to be in the loop. Oh."

The doors opened silently onto a large rooma hangar where once devastating missiles had been stored. Now, in three-dimensional cubicles of white and blue hues, rather young crew members, perhaps scientists, were busy with aquariums and terrariums.

The admirals approached two women in officer uniforms, separated by a considerable age gap. The younger was barely an adult, with short hair and radiant energy. The older had sharp cheekbones, penetrating eyes, and most notably, a gleaming brooch shaped like the letter Psi, unmistakable: a graduate of Psi University, able to read minds, though bound not to.

They introduced themselves with a salute: the shorter, younger one was Geneva; the tall and relaxed one, Pallas.

"How many telepaths on board?" asked Tohil without introducing himself.

"Three, including the Xenos," replied Pallas calmly, hands clasped behind her back.

Tohil glanced at Ravzan, a look meaning three too many.

"Why three?"

"You'd best ask the Captain."

"Is he a good captain?" Tohil interrupted.

"The best!" Geneva replied with enthusiasm.

"Yes, I imagine you haven't known that many. What's your role here, Petty Officer Geneva?"

"Botany."

"So, as a botany specialist, you consider Andreï an excellent captain?" "And an excellent biologist."

Silence fell at the incongruity of the statement. Pallas kept her gaze steady.

"Captain Andreï ensures everyone stays very motivated," she said. "People see me as a telepath, but the basis of Psi training is empathy. We assess crew morale to bring out the best." "Sounds like a cult to me," concluded Tohil.

Ravzan thought, and Tohil probably did too, that a good military crew, unfortunately, operated ideally like a cult. The admirals asked Pallas to take them to the famous Andreï, and she did so while discreetly extending the route through the ship's recently completed, remarkable renovations: the panoramic command and piloting post, the gleaming reactor hulls, the map room where the oldest and most beautiful ones were paper-based and framed on the wall. A vessel out of an adventure novel.

At the end of a hallway, Pallas let a door open and slipped away.

Behind the door was a vast, nearly empty room, a sort of office; behind the desk, a bay window overlooking the research lab. On the desk, pages scribbled with archaic equations. And, pencil in hand, collar unbuttoned, stood a man whose nose was too long and slightly too hooked to be a hero from an adventure novel, but was probably the Captain.

He had trouble emerging from his calculations, eyes vague, stood up and nearly stumbled as he pushed back his chair. His face, and especially his eyes, wore the mask of an ancient, genetic sadness, as if his ancestors had been mysteriously cursed. He was also preternaturally calm.

After a formal salute, the Admirals shook hands with him. Ravzan began to stammer a comment, but Tohil cut in:

"My friend, that was one hell of a visit! Sit down and tell me what you're working on. These calculations… equations? I don't get a thing when it comes to math."

"Nothing, I'm sorry, Admiral."

"First, don't apologize. Second, let me state more formally: you're not going to hide anything from us."

"At your command. Just as we're meant to do daily physical exercises, I also exercise my mind."

"You're not ordinary, that's for sure. Ravzan, what were the three key points from his file again?"

"No family na…"

"Rav and I thought you were one of those name-name types."

"Your judgment is correct. I used to have a family name. And another given name, in fact. I removed both, some time ago. Personal reasons."

"No problem. Wars aren't lost over identity quirks. Second point, Rav? I mean, Admiral Ravzan."

"Lodovico."

"Ah, you were in the Lodovico program."

If it were possible, Andreï's face became even more closed. He was truly motionless.

"Nothing to say about it?"

"Nothing."

"Fine. Third point?"

"A mind of steel and a heart of gold," said Ravzan, managing at last to get a full sentence in without interruption.

"What the hell kind of poet writes the Fleet's profiles?" Tohil barked.

"It's flattering, and I wish it were true. Or untrue, now that I think of it."

"Because your heart of gold will be your downfall?"

"Because steel breaks, sooner or later, under too much pressure. If I had to choose, I'd rather have a mind of gold."

"Alright, let's stop with the poetry and metallurgy and move to the concrete stuff. A telepath? A Xeno? Really, Andreï?"

"Since we're already a testing ground, I thought," said Andreï, "let's test everything."

"A Xeno got into my head, Captain. He might be walking around with all my secrets now."

"Telepathy only captures perfectly formulated thoughts in your mind…"

"Yes, yes, I got - we got the lecture, Admiral Ravzan thinks like I do - we sat through the seminar at Psi University. But what works for humans, does it work for Xenos?"

Andreï remained still.

"I need a telepathic Xeno to communicate with another creature. A Xeno called Gentle Sun."

"Another one?!"

"Our third telepath. Except this one can't communicate…only… let's say, control. A massive neural entity weighing two tons, unable to move, see, or speak. Its species is called the Free, because thought sets them free."

"More effective than an AI?" asked Ravzan.

"The project aims to dispense with Leonardo."

Tohil and Ravzan stared at each other in disbelief. A Xeno to replace the computer planet ?

"We're not there yet," added the Captain, so as not to sound mad.

"No eyes, no legs, no mouth? How do they live?" asked Tohil.

"It has ten trillion neurons, interconnected up to a hundred times each. The results are very promising. The Free live on a nameless planet, slightly toxic for us, reachable with a… well, never mind the details. Gentle Sun is a bit of an adventurer and volunteered to act as ambassador on Prospero. He ended up getting bored, and I had the good fortune to be introduced to this being… very intelligent, though a bit of a dreamer. Oh, and on their planet, they take mental control of other species, like small rodents, that bring them water and biomass for survival."

"That sounds like a major security flaw. And a Captain who doesn't seem too concerned about keeping his post."

Tohil clapped his hands, but with a fatherly smile.

"Andreï, Andreï, Andreï. Some things are off, but I love the Alecto. I like to believe she brings good luck."

There it was, thought Ravzan. The Council President just wanted to be admired. Tohil feigned thoughtfulness, but was really waiting for this moment to recount his exploits to a rookie.

"You take risks because you want to make history with your name. That's what happened to me. Aboard this very ship! Did you know I once captained her?"

"If my memory serves," Andreï replied with formal caution only - he seemed well informed, "colonists on Calchas-3 had discovered a Transient machine… a matter reconfigurator, and were considering, let's say, autonomy."

"Exactly. A Transient device capable of producing bombs and unimaginable weapons, just by dropping a bunch of damn rocks into it. And Calchas-3 was a mining complex, half-populated by suspended citizens trying to regain their citizenship through labor. In two days, they'd set up a network of satellites armed with lasers around the yellow planet. I led a squadron of three Anicroches…we made a static jump right into the atmosphere, down to the millimeter. Imagine it: that shark-mouth from hell appearing in the sky! Those punks must've thought the Transients had come to collect. One single strike ! No more infernal machine, no more problem."

Silence fell, and Ravzan grew uneasy at the lack of general enthusiasm, especially from Andreï. Tohil was taken aback:

"No comment?"

"Admiral, I don't know what to say."

"Alright, fine, I see, you don't agree. We won't rewrite history. You wouldn't have done the same. You'd have sent in your damn telepaths, is that it?" (his voice rose sharply, more than a little) "Come on, say it! Andreï, the brilliant captain!"

"I don't consider myself a pacifist, Admiral. And I don't wish to make history with my name. Quite the opposite. But since you're freely inviting a comment, I believe the use of violence is always a failure. In the Calchas-3 crisis, it was resorted to very swiftly."

"You're in the fucking Stellar Fleet, Andreï! We don't transport fruit in these ships! Well, none except this one. I knew you were a name-name, a goddamn Earth intellectual."

Andreï held his gaze. Tohil, for a moment, thought the Captain believed himself untouchable - like he was the President of the HS's nephew. Maybe he was. After all, an admiral could have him dismissed. That silent arrogance… Tohil hated it.

"You are in the ARMY!" he bellowed. "Military force is a tool used to resolve situations through strength and violence. But I suppose all this is far too basic for you. You're one of those geniuses so brilliant they've lost touch with reality!"

"That's possible," Andreï answered, still impassive.

Tohil, too, began to calm. He stood up, walked around his chair, leaned on it.

"If that's what you think, tell me plainly I acted wrongly in how I resolved the Calchas-3 crisis."

"That is my deep conviction."

"Thank you for your answer. It lets me state my own deep conviction: you don't belong here. The Stellar Fleet has no use for pacifist moralizers who disregard the fundamentals of security and confidentiality. What do you say to that, Andreï?"

The captain still showed no reaction. For a moment, Ravzan wondered if he was even human…perhaps he was a Xeno. Maybe Tohil was right. Maybe Andreï was insane.

In any case, that silence sharpened the already raw and paranoid anger of the President of the Admiralty. Ignoring Ravzan's presence, lost in fury, he snarled with hatred:

"Enjoy your final mission, Andreï. I'll be requesting your dismissal immediately. May the Blind Gods see to it that we never meet again."

Even the door that closed behind him - though automatic - seemed to slam with rage.