39-NK-17's search + 38-RL-06's execution

Eyelids fluttering under a cognition hood 39-NK-17 was outside itself. Through its neurological link to the ship it searched the vastness beyond for the smallest glimpse of which it searched. Background radiation from distant stars stroked by as the vessel slowly rotated about its axis. A day prior it had been part of an armada sent to destroy a Concordate fleet. Whereas the operation had succeeded it had also failed. The mission had called for the utter decimation of the fleet, yet after an appropriate display of force three vessels had escaped their comrades’ fate. This could not be permitted, the stratagem, as it was, relied initially on complete surprise and should but one of the escapees be allowed to contact their precious Concordate the pacification process may fail altogether. So it was that 39-NK-17 had been dispatched with close to a-hundred other vessels to seek out and destroy the remnants of the fleet. It pushed their sensors to their maximum range but still, nothing.

39-NK-17 was not surprised by this however. One of the ships to have fled had been identified as KL-2311 – otherwise known as Gayatri. It had proceeded to go through the files belonging to its commander, the possession of which was the result of its efforts years earlier. It had discovered the current commander was one Avhakla. The man’s disciplinary record had leapt out at it at first. “Conviction,” it had read “for wanton disobedience, mutiny, degradation of duty, and leading of those under his command into an aggressive campaign which, had it not been subdued, would have led to open war.” It then went on to mention, “Re-instated: to the rank of Captain; for services rendered both to the Consortium and Concardate and other meritorious behaviour.” It also read that he was more than competent, in fact revelled, in guerrilla tactics. This was why 39-NK-17 was not surprised now that, despite its best efforts, it was not able to locate the remaining ships. Reading on it found that Avhakla was “motivated by an unwavering sense of duty, towards the Consortium as well as those serving underneath him.” In this 39-NK-17 had formulated a new course of action. It would wait. Wait for this Avhakla to make a move for the Consortium, for surely a man reportedly as devout as he would sooner or later have to fulfil what he saw as his duty and head toward Consortium space. Then it would execute its mandate and eliminate the escapees, for that was its “duty”. 39-NK-17 then severed the neurological link. Despite the ever pressing need to search for the escapees it had to accept the limitations of its human body, it had to sleep, something it had not done in the days running up to the attack. A chill ran through its body as it disconnected from the cognition hood. Wiry tendrils let go of its bio-engineered brain and slid unpleasantly from out its ears and nostrils.

39-NK-17 also found sleep an unpleasant experience. Unexplained visions, strange phantasms awaited it there. “Dreams” the humans called them. This was a cause for concern to it. Many of its counterparts, the same make and model as it, had reported experiencing “dreams” shortly before malfunctioning. Many of its type to be recalled, including itself, but there had been no fault found with 39-NK-17. Indeed it had surpassed itself in gathering information in the Consortium, information that had proved invaluable, pass codes, secret locations, strategic strengths and weaknesses. It had been this information which the pacification had been partly planned around. For the best part of a century agents had been sent to the Concordate in order to infiltrate, observe and gather information. This had necessitated the creation of agents that were actually capable of blending in with the different societies and cultures that made up the Concordate. Humans, Baoloceans, Shimivans, Hu’mae’qi, Krrick among others had had their DNA synthesised. Synthetics were developed, identical in almost every form, even down to their neurological make up. Changes had been made where they would best benefit these agents. They had been overhauled, made with superior computation abilities, advanced strength, endurance and the ability to interact directly with software. Thus 39-NK-17 had been assigned to Arya’Shakta, a true test of an infiltrator’s programming, and had been one of the main coordinators in the network there. That was until the outbreak of malfunctions had compromised the operation and revealed the network, along with the various others that had been established throughout the Concordate. This in effect had led to war, but 39-NK-17’s creator’s whereabouts where not known to the Concordate. So they had set up a bastion of defence in the expanse beyond their boarders, the same defence which had just been all but annihilated.

Walking over to the display tablet mounted on the opposing wall it went through various read outs and check list that would have taken an actual human days to complete within a couple of minutes. Calculations, course adjustments were fed through to the ships supercomputer and relayed to the others. Within the blink of its eyelids eighty-eight affirmed their new commands. One ship however, did not respond. It saw that the ship that hadn’t responded was controlled personally by another synthetic, 38-RL-06. 39-NK-17 proceeded to put through a communiqué, it had to wait forty-nine seconds before it got a response.

A voice came over the intercom. “Yes?”

“38-RL-06 why have you not responded to your orders?”

There was a brief pause. “My apologies, commander. Some of my vessel’s equipment seems to have malfunctioned. I shall rectify this matter immediately.”

“Very well, may I suggest, however, that in future you do not allow your equipment to ‘malfunction’”.

Another pause. “Yes 39-NK-17, you are correct. I shall not allow this to occur in future.”

“Good,” it said. “Then I shall leave you to your duties” and with that it ended the communiqué.

38-RL-06’s behaviour was strange. Of the eight synthetics assigned to its command 38-RL-06 stood out. The tone of its voice, the fact that it even had a tone of voice, was peculiar, its behaviour was reminiscent of a personality. Perhaps its inhibitor programming was malfunctioning, for what was certain to it now was that the communication equipment on 38-RL-06’s ship was not.

This could be further examined later, 39-NK-17 concluded, placing the vessel on auto-pilot and walking over to its bed which lay in the centre of the room, just a few yards from the cognition hood. The mattress was firm, the sheet thin, barely enough to disguise the cold of the room. “Lights off” it said in a monotone and was bathed in darkness. Almost immediately it found its body and mind gladly surrendering to slumber. 39-NK-17’s last calculation was to ascertain whether or not dreams awaited it there. But there was no calculation, it had found, that could account for dreams.

Angry voices pursued him down a dark, narrow corridor. They bayed for the blood which coursed through his now thrusting heart. Lungs burning, sweat pouring, stomach lurching. Suddenly something caught his feet and sent him tumbling. Quickly picking himself up and looking back to see what it was he saw a body laying there. It was stiff, its mouth open, eyes empty. It was then he realised it was a child. Looking into her blue eyes he saw there was nothing left of her. He was no longer moved by the sense to flee, but by a curious desire to stay. Her lips were already growing blue. He felt his stomach contort and wither. Surely, he thought to himself, she should be playing. It felt then that something took hold of his chest and dragged him backward with such force it left him breathless. Coughing and spluttering he found himself on all fours alone in an empty room. Yet he was not alone, cloaked figures stepped out from the shadow that masked the corners of the room. Their faces were drawn and pale poking out from the hoods that almost swallowed them. As one they tilted back their heads, opened their mouths from which they began to utter a high pitched wail. It was agony; he tore at his ears wishing to make it stop. Above this wretched noise came one more terrible, that of a woman screaming; begging for help, to be saved, only to be answered by a more deafening silence. He felt himself falling again. This time he was confronted by a sphere of pure white light. It burned his flesh, the smell filled his nostrils. He knew it, somehow, to be monstrous and yet that it had to be confronted. As he stood before it the light began to ripple violently before finally it expanded forth consuming him and all that he was, the wailing of the hooded figures tearing at him once again...

The wailing developed into a whirring, siren like noise. 39-NK-17 opened its eyes and quickly sat up. The siren sound wasn’t in its dreams, it was the sensor alarm. Leaping out of bed it headed straight to the cognition hood and pulled it over its head. Ignoring the displeasure at having the various tendrils creep into its cranium it immediately looked toward the region of space where the ship had detected something. Looking through the network of readouts the sensors had compiled 39-NK-17 quickly saw what had been found. A trace, a faint one, but a trace none the less that was identical to the reactor signature of the average Concordate capital ship. Through the cognition hood it sent commands to the other ships to prepare themselves for combat operations and jump coordinates. They were to be ready in ten minutes. It then set its own ship to preparing itself. 39-NK-17 felt a ripple course through its veins then. It had felt this sensation before; the sudden acceleration of the heart, the skin tingling slightly, the lungs increasing their intake. Catching a view of itself in the reflective surface of the wash basin as it walked by it paused. Its pupils had dilated to. These were the signs, it knew, of an adrenalin burst, being a sign in itself that it was experiencing “excitement”. Excitement at pursuing and engaging with the escapees.

This wasn’t proper it decided. One should be indifferent during a course of action, indeed in all aspects of operation, in order to best follow commands. 39-NK-17 took a few moments to calm itself, taking some slow breaths. Looking back in mirror its pupils had returned to their usual diameter. Something held it there then, but it didn’t know what. It felt as though the dark expanse surrounded by the brown of its iris were drawing it in. The brown colour of the iris itself was not a solid one. The closer it looked the more it saw the undulating tissue and colour that it was composed of. Dark shades of brown, tiny rivulets so light they were almost yellow, and the slightest hint of a green hue around its outermost edge. Drawing back 39-NK-17 took in its otherwise featureless face. But now it noticed changes in it. There were grey circles under its eyes and dark, thick stubble edged around its chin and cheeks and wrinkles in its forehead. A tone sounded in the background, a warble that told it there was an incoming communication. It headed over to the display tablet and touched the screen to accept. A separate display now came up on the screen.

“Designate 38-RL-06,” it stated recognising the figure that now took up the screen. “Why are you contacting me, is your vessel not operational?”

38-RL-06, also constructed in the form of a human male, shook his head. “No, my ship is fully operational.”

“Then what is your purpose for making contact? We are to jump in two-hundred and one point seven six seconds.” 38-RL-06 shifted uneasily in its tight frame. “Well?”

“I,” he faltered. “I do not think I will be able to lead my squadron effectively in the coming engagement.”

39-NK-17 felt its eyebrows try to bunch themselves into a frown but resisted the urge. “Explain.”

38-RL-06 shifted uneasily again. “M-m-my,” he stuttered nervously. “My thoughts are distracting me.”

“Your thoughts?” 39-NK-17 couldn’t help but raise a disapproving eyebrow now.

38-RL-06’s voice shook this time, “Yes, my thoughts.”

39-NK-17 evaluated this for a moment. “You will lead your squadron as ordered,” it said. “To do any different would hinder our progress in the pursuit. Once the escapees have been disposed of you will board a shuttle and come to my vessel. Do you understand?”

“Yes, commander.” It replied.

“Good.” 39-NK-17 ended the conversation.

This certainly was inappropriate. There was no doubt to 39-NK-17 that something would have to be done about 38-RL-06 now. Various calculations sped through its brain but it could not come to one that was fully conclusive. It found itself left with two; either 38-RL-06 would have to have his inhibitor programming evaluated for faults or, he would have to be put down. Since the initial malfunctions the policy on those who had problems with their programming was very simple. Extermination. This seemed to becoming the more likely conclusion as 39-NK-17 went over the calculations again, for it had detected something extremely incriminating and dangerous even in their conversation. The way 38-RL-06 had said “my thoughts,” had rung with something particularly unacceptable, and human. Pride.

38-RL-06’s execution: (Bacground for this one, 39-NK-17 had Avahkla and his ships cornered but he engineered a way to escape by "sacrificing" himself by piloting one of the ships and blowing it up for a distraction, 38-RL-06 could have prevented it but is sick of taking orders to kill and maim with no good cause.)

39-NK-17 searched for any glimpse of the two ships. There was none. The radiation from the one that had been destroyed was masking their trajectory. The realization drew slowly on it now that it was quite probable that its mission had failed. Not yet however, it figured, at least not completely, there was a chance. The ships’ captains would most likely be still taking the most direct route back to their territories. Given the known limits of both ships’ jump capacity it surmised that if, indeed, they were taking the most direct route, and adding on the limiting capabilities for their jump engines they would have to pause before jumping again. 39-NK-17’s calculations brought that pause to within a one parsec region of the planet known as Iaessk. A gamble to be sure, but it was the only course of action left to it.

Information of this was sent to the other synthetics as well as orders to prepare themselves and their vessels. It did not wait for an affirmative, for surely they would cite regulations that pointed toward the mission’s failure, and that was unacceptable. There were more pressing matters besides their disapproval. 38-RL-06 had disobeyed an order, had he not then perhaps the mission would have already ended in success, as it stood 38-RL-06 would have to be dealt with.

“Designate 38-RL-06, you are to report to my vessel immediately,” it said. When there was no reply it repeated. “38-RL-06, report to my vessel immediately.” Still no reply. “Very well,” it breathed calmly. “I shall come to you.”

Disengaging from the cognition hood it strolled to the back of the bridge. Two doors, which before had been indistinguishable from the rest of the room, parted as it approached revealing a lift. As it stepped in and the doors hissed shut it said, “Hanger bay”. There was a jolt in its stomach and a second later the doors hissed open again. The bay was hard at work, autonomously repairing damaged fighters. A shuttle’s ramp lowered for it and as it entered it found the cockpit already prepared for flight. Making a few final preparations it took hold of the controls and ordered the bay doors to open. Once they were the gape presented a panoramic view of the aftermath of the brief but tumultuous battle. As it piloted the shuttle out it had to be wary of large fragments of vessels destroyed or damaged in the fighting. It wasn’t sure yet of the actual number of vessels rendered inoperable but from its vantage point it counted eight. However it couldn’t dwell upon this as it drew upon the ship commanded by 38-RL-06. Sending the appropriate pass codes the ships hanger opened for it. It touched down and waited for the hanger to re-pressurise. Once it was 39-NK-17 ordered the lift to the bridge. The doors opened. It saw 38-RL-06 staring at a video display that took up the whole of the bridge’s front wall. Before the screen stood 38-RL-06, hands clasped in front of him. The display’s left corner was dominated by the moon, which itself partly obscured the planet beyond. The other ships patrolled the region between it and the star in the lower right corner, their diamond shaped bodies revolving slowly. 39-NK-17 went to speak but was cut short by 38-RL-06.

“Can you see it?” he asked.

“See what?” 39-NK-17 squinted its eyes at the brightness of the star as it took a few steps toward 38-RL-06.

“The beauty of it,” he almost whispered. “How the light plays across surfaces, look how it transforms the moon, barren and dark and then the slow transfiguration to the light, the casting of shadows on craters and the ships; they look like they’re dancing, don’t they?”

“They are performing manoeuvres to test for battle readiness, not dancing.” It chastised drawing closer.

“Don’t tell me you can’t see it!” he admonished turning to face it, a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

“Clearly you and I see something completely different in this display,” it said.

“You’re wrong,” 38-RL-06 turned to face it again. “You don’t see anything.”

“There is nothing wrong with my visual sensors,” it commented. “They are working at optimum efficiency.

38-RL-06 laughed deeply at this, his shoulders rose and fell as he did. “Oh I do not doubt that you don’t see it, you fail to see it.”

“I do not understand what you are talking about,” it stated.

“I know you don’t,” he sighed.

“This conversation has no value,” it said. “Screen off,” it commanded and the display disappeared.

39-NK-17 had drawn level with 38-RL-06 now, he turned to face it. It saw that he too had bags under his eyes and stubble growing on his face, but his eyes, his blue eyes, something lurked within them, they were different from its own not in colour but in something that it could not pin point. It noticed now also that his left wrist was marked by a character tattoo.

38-RL-06, noticing its gaze remarked, “I got it on Jnana, where I was stationed. Do you know what it means?”

“I am fluent in Jnaese as I am all other Consortium languages; it says alive.”

“I’m sure you know what it says,” he cajoled, “but again I’m sure you fail to know its significance.”

“Enlighten me,” it tested.

“That is something you have to do for yourself,” he smiled.

The smile was wiped of his face when 39-NK-17 drew a pistol from its utility belt. The pigmentation of his face it observed, turned paler, a physical symptom it knew, of fear.

“Your inhibitor programming has malfunctioned,” it said coolly, “irrecoverably so. As a result you must be terminated.”

38-RL-06 shook visibly, his eyes wide. As he did he took in 39-NK-17’s face. “You,” he said, voice wavering. “It’s happening to you too.”

“What would that be?”

“You’ve started to dream haven’t you? You’ve not been sleeping well, I can see,” hope sprang across his face now. “You don’t have to do this, you know. We can escape, run away. The Consortium would take us in, I know they would, once they knew what has happened to us they would want to help us, and have us help them in return!”

This was beyond anything 39-NK-17 had expected to hear. “We do not want their help,” it answered. “They are why we engage in conflict now. Have you forgotten the reason why you were created?”

“No,” 38-RL-06’s answered, voice wavering. “I resent it,” he spat, eyes full of, what it recognised all too well as malice.

“Then I shall deliver you from that which you detest,” it said.

“ No! Stop! Wait!..” he screamed just as 39-NK-17 raised the pistol and discharged it. Crimson began to soak through 38-RL-06’s white overalls. He clutched at his left breast, as he fell to his knees. “I’m dying,” he said. He looked up at it, an untold number of calculations passing behind his eyes. “I’m dying,” he repeated, his face didn’t seem to know what emotion to make, but the one that came through in his voice was a hint of awe. Holding out his blood soaked hands in front of him 38-RL-06 slumped to the floor eyes still wide. 39-NK-17 discharged the weapon twice more at his head spattering grey tissue against the walls. When it was certain that he was indeed deceased it turned and headed for the elevator. Once in its shuttle it barely waited for the hanger doors to open before speeding out. Enough time had been wasted in conversation, it now had to concentrate on preparing its ships to make for Iaessk. Once back in its own bridge it tugged the cognition hood over its head. Quickly it reassigned the ships in 38-RL-06’s squadron to the remaining synthetics. Damage reports were waiting for it. Ten ships were reported as inoperable while fourteen others were labelled as critically damaged.

How had this happened? They had been cornered, statistically there was no way for them to escape. Then it factored in the variable of what had occurred in the battle, the average result of escape increased from naught-point-naught four one percent to forty-one percent. A hundred fold increase. It appeared that of all the calculations 39-NK-17 had performed it had not factored peoples’ willingness to sacrifice themselves for others. Or at least an individual’s, and it could only conclude of one person it knew of that would have performed such a feat.

“Avahkla.” It whispered.

“Yes?” a voice answered that had not come through the cognition network.

39-NK-17 quickly removed the hood and looked behind to see Avhakla exiting the lift. “You!”

“Me,” Avahkla smiled.

Holding a helmet he tried to disentangle his beard from it. Once he’d accomplished this he walked up to it looking about the bridge as he did, the squeaking of his extra-vehicular suit and footfalls the only sound in the room. “Bit dull in here,” he commented taking in the pure white room that was devoid of anything remotely homely. There was a white mattress, a white display hood, an information tablet and a wash basin. That was it.

“How did you get aboard?” 39-NK-17 demanded.

Avahkla beamed back at it. “Oh it wasn’t too hard, I mean you did go and leave the back door open while you were away on your bloody business,” he gestured with a finger at it. Looking down it noticed some blood had spattered its overalls. How could it have done such a thing as to leave the hanger bay wide open! It was a mistake that was all too easily rectified however. It went to pull the pistol back out of its holster only to find it wasn’t there. “Looking for this?” he asked cheekily holding up the pistol between a thumb and fore-finger. “I picked your pocket as you stepped off your shuttle,” he smiled. “A skill learned a lifetime ago, but still quite useful apparently,” he said examining the weapon. 39-NK-17 took a step towards him. “Oh no you don’t,” he said quickly levelling the pistol at it.

“State your purpose,” it said.

“My purpose,” Avahkla said now with all the authority of a respected captain, “is to end this war.”

Avahkla's plan

Silence. Pure and utter in its quiet serenity. All around stars winked and flickered while the green, turquoise gases of a nebula stirred in its slow grace as it nursed new stars to life. At that moment three ships blurred out of the dark as though chased by demons. They slowed to a crawling pace as they glided the nebula; the coloured gases twirled and seemed to dance upon their hulls. The vessels belonged to The Concordat, an alliance of five races: Shimivans, Hu’mae’qe, Baolacua, Krrick and Humans. The ships were named Gayatri, Ravi and Hshphiiq, all three of them bore the marks of battle. Gayatri and Ravi were sisters, both were the latest Bhanu-class battleships, constructed in the grand shipyards over Kalika by the Humans. Hshphiiq had been built at Shimi by the Shimivans; she was slightly older than her companions at nearly seven decades but was still as nimble. Her appearance was that of a Bphal hornet from her mother world, she went as far as to sport its red and black stripes.

Ravi bore the worst of the damage; her sail shaped body was wrought with lacerations, atmosphere leaked from a couple of the worst. A shuttle left from both Hshphiiq and Ravi and headed toward Gayatri. Her name, which ran up her bow, was scuffed by blast damage, although her yard number (KL-2319) was unscathed. They flew into the hanger which bustled with activity. Deck hands worked feverishly to repair damaged fighter craft or scavenging parts from those that were beyond being salvaged. Aboard the two shuttles were the ships’ captains, they greeted each other briefly before being guided through the ship to the conference room. They made a left just before the main doors that led to the bridge. Two marines stood to attention as they walked into the room. It was oval shaped and decorated with various paintings and artefacts. Some of the paintings were of previous ships to have borne the name Gayatri, the largest being of the ship that had first brought the name to prominence. She and her crew had served with distinction in the terrible war against the Shivas’narak almost two millennia ago. Since then it had been considered among the highest privileges and an honours to be bestowed with her command.

In the centre of the room stood a stone table moulded from the molten rock of Vha’chi. At its head sat the Vice-Admiral, a man who many considered a first among equals, Avhakla. Rising silently from his seat he bowed to the captains, the rest of his officers following suit. They bowed in return and sat when Avhakla gestured for them to do so.

“Thank-you, sirs, for meeting with me at such short notice,” he said adjusting his ceremonial blue robes. “I know you must be eager to return to your vessels.”

“I am indeed,” Fshqui interrupted, the Shimivan captain of Hshphiiq. “I hardly sssee the point when we could conduct thisss meeting via hologram, we wassste precsiousss time.” Fshqui’s forked tongue stuck out of his serpentine face and fluttered in the air momentarily before withdrawing; a sign of distaste amongst his species.

“I understand your dissent Fshqui. My reason for calling you both here is because holograms, useful as they are, do not fully give you the measure of a being. I wanted to know the officers now under my command.”

“Under your command!” The reptile growled slightly in his throat.

“Yes Fshqui, my command.” Avhakla did not raise his voice but stared directly with his green eyes at the Shimivan as though he were the only one in the room, his speech certain and uncompromising. “I will be blunt with you; we do not have luxury of time to waste with petty squabbles. I will have your obedience; I demand it unflinchingly from you both now, as you both must do so with your crews. Our predicament dictates that much at least, Fshqui I must know, are you going to have a problem with this?”

The captain was silent for a moment and then replied. “No, sssir, I will not. I apologissse for my insssubordination. The eventsss of today have rattled m ssslightly but I can asssure you that I will submit to you hencsse forth.”

Avahkla bowed his head in thanks. “Good. Believe me, I am just as moved by what has passed as you, I think we all are,” murmurs of agreement passed through the room. “We cannot, however, let our emotions distract us from our mission.” Collectively everyone in the room seemed to lean forward now, eager to know what Avhakla had formulated. “An act of war has been committed against us today. We must steal ourselves to the fact that in the coming weeks, months, perhaps years even, will be unlike anything most of us have ever experienced.” Avahkla adjusted his robes again. “I fear that what we have just experienced will be repeated across realms of the Concordat. Obviously this is no random excursion of vindictiveness; this is an all out formulated offensive. We know their spies lived amongst our societies for a time, examining, prying for weaknesses. Well it would seem they have found them, and exploited them quite effectively, our computer systems rendered inoperable, our ships and even a battle station obliterated, and they did it with ease. If I were in command of weapons that could render my opponents so in effective I wouldn’t stop and wait for them to regroup.” Avahkla paused, everyone in the room hung on his every word now waiting for him to make his point. “I put it to you that what we have experienced has not just happened to us, it’s my bet that all throughout the Concordat the virus that they sent to our computers has spread and caused unknowable chaos. And into that chaos, I’ll also hazard to guess, bowls their impressive armada.”

“So what can we do?” a young officer asked loudly.

Avahkla smiled at the question, his eyes twinkled for a second like the stars that surrounded them. “We must make it back to Concordat space, we have managed to find a weakness in the virus and that information must be delivered, no matter what it may cost us.” He let the statement sink in for a second. “I have no doubt that the enemy will have the same attitude to preventing us from returning to our home with such a pungent deterrent to them. So our main objective, as it is, must be to evade and escape whatever they send against us. There is no alternative, we must succeed.” Again there were murmurs of agreement, even some spattering of applause.

“Now I must know the condition of your vessels,” he said addressing the two captains.

Yavha, the captain of Ravi spoke first, bowing his shaven head. “Ravi’s situation is grim, Ishvara Avahkla,” like the table at which they all sat Yavha was also from Vha’chi. He spoke with a gruffness typical of his world and was covered head to toe in the ceremonial tattoos that were common place there. “Many of our systems are still malfunctioning from the after effects of the virus, others were overloaded during our escape, including our force dampeners, fortunately the life support system is still at optimum capacity.” Avahkla noticed the young man’s face grimace slightly as he continued to list the damages to his vessel. “Our hull has been breached in multiple places, we would not do well, sir, should we encounter the enemy again,” he gazed down at a tablet computer in his hands. “And we still don’t know if the super-structure has been compromised. Furthermore our reactor breached during the escape, only the best efforts of my engineers prevented a meltdown.” He placed the tablet down firmly and sighed heavily. “To be honest sir, it’s a miracle we made it this far.”

Avahkla took this in then motioned for Fshqui to speak. “The ssituation on Hshphiiq iss alsso unfavourable, sssir, although we fair better than my colleague,” his tongue lashed out and wet one of his eyes. “Our main complaint is our hull, ssome of our sssystemss are alsso ssstill malfunctioning becausse of the virusss but with time we ssshould be able to remedy thisss.”

Avahkla nodded. “Thank-you gentlemen,” he stood and bowed to them. “For now carry on with your efforts to repair your vessels, I want reports every hour. I would also request that you have reconnaissance craft fly out and scan the area for approaching ships. The nebula may distort our reactor signatures but it won’t mask them completely, sooner or later the enemy will find us.” Fshqui and Yavha stood bowing back to Avahkla as did the others present who then began to stream out of the room. Once Avahkla was alone he walked casually over to the picture of the original Gayatri, noticing it was slightly askew he adjusted it so that it hung level once more. “It seems once more,” he said stoically, “that your name is once again destined for great things.”

Avhaya had her hands clasped behind her back as she walked though Gayatri’s command centre. It was built much like an amphitheatre around the captain’s chair and central data table. She made various observations about the multitude of activities around the three tiered work stations. Generally pleased with the progress being made she turned to look at the main view screen at the front of the bridge. In its frame Ravi and Hshphiiq hung quiescently. Glancing closer at Ravi, being the closer of the two, Avhaya noticed that atmosphere was still leaking from her; she counted at least four fonts of escaping gases. As she gazed at it she saw miniscule figures, engineers and damage control teams in their space-suits, working to plug the breaches. A shuttle crossed her gaze now heading toward Ravi’s hanger, Yavha would be aboard it she knew.

The sliding of doors and the stamping of boots to attention snapped her out of her musings as Avahkla ambled into the room which immediately took notice. He looked out of place among all the uniformed officers and servicemen with his robes draped over him. Indeed it was his quirky behaviour, along with his history, that had earned his fame and infamy not only within the navy but the society of the Consortium at large. He was known as being a maverick and an idealist, for having a high regard for chivalry, for being impulsive and for loyalty, not always to the Consortium’s government but unwaveringly so to the ideals on which it had been founded. Smiling kindly at Avhaya he made his way over to her acknowledging briefly those who quickly saluted before returning to the duties.

Drawing up next to her to also look through the view screen he asked simply, “Avhaya, how are things?”

“Engineering reports all systems operational. The flight deck reports ready and repairs on the hull are progressing well, sir,” she answered dutifully handing him a read out that she’d compiled.

Avahkla regarded it quietly for a moment stroking his peppered beard thoughtfully as he did. “Good,” he purred. “Very good, but that is not what I asked, I meant how are things with you,” he set his eyes on her now pensively. “You seem distracted.”

“No, sir, I can assure you I am focussed on my duties.”

“Come now, Avhaya, we both know that’s not entirely true,” she shifted anxiously under his searching eyes now. “Walk with me,” he beckoned to her. “He’li,” he called up to the second officer.

“Yes, sir?” the Hu’mae’qe’s head peered over a bank of computers.

“You have the bridge, deploy recon teams I don’t want to be caught napping should those dreadnaughts show up again.”

“Aye sir.”

Together they traversed a few winding hallways as others hurried about their tasks. They came to a wide set door which Avahkla entered a code for and it swung open revealing his personal quarters. Avhaya barged past Avahkla and waited for him to close the door.

“Vice-Admiral I must protest!” she objected.

“Avhaya what have I told you about calling me that when we don’t have company?”

“But sir!”

“Avhaya,” he warned.

“Fine! Grandfather, this is highly unprofessional!” she could feel herself going slightly red with anger.

“That’s better,” he smiled as he walked round his desk and sitting at it. “Please, sit,” he said pleasantly when she remained standing. She sighed and did so. Avahkla reached down and opened a draw taking out a wooden box. He opened it and took in a deep breath through his nose with his eyes closed wistfully. Reaching over the desk he held it under Avhaya’s nose for her to smell, shaking it lightly at her when at first she refused to wincing at it. When she saw he wouldn’t take it back she humoured and smelt the contents, the aromatic aroma filling her nostrils with a scent of flowers and perfume. He then proceeded prepare a cup each with an elegant tea set that was sat on the side of the desk. Once finished he handed hers over. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said. “Now, what is the problem?”

“My problem,” she said, setting her cup down harshly causing the dark amber liquid to slop over the rim, “is that you insist on treating me like your granddaughter instead of one of your officers!”

“And what is wrong with that?” he asked dabbing at the spill with the sleeve of his robes nonchalantly.

“What’s wrong with that!” she almost raged. “It’s aggravating, it’s unprofessional...it’s not fair!” They’d had this argument before. Ever since he had taken her for his apprentice she’d not felt right about being Gayatri’s first officer. True she recognised what a great opportunity and honour it was to serve aboard Gayatri along one of the navy’s greatest commanders, but the fact that she was his granddaughter did her a disservice. There were whispers over her assignment, that it was less to do with merit and more to do with favouritism, and what irked Avhaya more than anything was that she wanted her career to be seen as one she sculpted for herself, not built upon the favour of kin.

“Avhaya I’ve heard your grievances before, this is not what troubles you now,” he took a lingering sip of his tea and smacked his lips savouring the flavour.

She made a fist annoyed that he could read her so easily. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said firmly. “We are wasting our time here. “

“Non-sense,” he said. “You, like it or not, are my first officer, I cannot very well command my own ship as well as watch over two others effectively. Therefore I need you at your best, and that will not happen while you’re distracted,” he reasoned. “And you’re not drinking your tea.” Avahkla nodded at it eagerly with his green eyes. She helf her cup in her hands and smelt it warily. Her grandfather mirrored her actions, watching her with a boyish expectation. Avhaya couldn’t help the corner of her mouth twitch a smile. She took a gulp, almost spitting it out when its bitter-sweetness washed over her taste-buds.

“This isn’t Shaktan tea!” she spluttered.

Avahkla huffed distastefully at her. “You expect me to drink that flavourless tripe! No, this is from Jnana.”

“But then you’ve drugged me!” she shouted, standing suddenly, enraged that he would do such a thing to her and the sheer height of his irresponsibility.

“Rubbish,” he waved a dismissive hand. “I drank this as a child and it never did me any harm. Drink.”

Calming quickly, no doubt a sign of the tea taking affect, sat again and took a tentative sip. Now she could feel the physical effects, her muscles relaxing, and her skin tingling slightly. She took a few more sips and the drink’s psycho-active reaction began to set in. Her thoughts became less convoluted, her worries seemingly benign. Colours and shapes became brighter, more vivid. The patterns on the cup from which she drank seemed to flow and criss-cross into each other sharing a never ending affinity. Looking around the room, which had always looked cluttered to her, took on a more quixotic appearance. A large amphora stood in one corner of the pentagonal room. It depicted the first Festival of Lights on Jnana, the planet her grandfather had come to call home. Along one of the walls an assortment of flowers and shrubs bloomed and grew, their varying bouquet’s filling the room and her nostrils agreeably, so vivid were their fragrances to her now that she thought she could almost see them wafting over to her now. She fancied that each odour would have its own colour if she could. Her eyes turned wondrously to the desk now, itself carved from a behemoth Je’nyia tree, noticing two pictures framed in platinum. One was of a middle aged Avahkla with a blooming family, he stood with her grandmother, uncle and mother who cradled Avhaya as an infant. The second was of a far younger Avahkla, barely an adult, amid a crowd of others, most not much older, some younger still. She knew that many had died untimely deaths not long after the picture had been taken. They had perished when her grandfather and his fellows had risen up and fled the oppressive state of Upandhana. She often found herself surprised when she remembered the hardship of her grandfather’s early years when she saw that his smile was still as vivacious and youthful as ever. Avhaya realized soberly for a moment that she had allowed her mind to drift and shook her head to re-order herself only causing colours and patterns to blur together confusingly.

Noticing her dazed expression Avahkla reached into a different draw and leant over the table. “Here,” he said holding out a wrinkled brown tendril, she regarded it with scepticism. “Don’t worry, it’s a Satva root, it will calm the effects.” She accepted and started to chew on it. Sipping from his tea again he confessed, “I forgot your tolerance wouldn’t be as high as mine. You know, I find it charming that the root of the very plant that would intoxicate you so would counter act its effects,” he smiled softly.

“Avhaya found herself becoming agitated again. “Is this going anywhere? If not I request that you allow me to return to my duties.”

“I have already told you the point, Avhaya. As soon as you’ve told me what is bothering you you may return to your duties and perform them properly.”

He’d stepped to far now, not only was he wasting time but now he was insulting her work. “Grandfather this won’t do!” she yelled. “You are keeping me from my tasks and neglecting your own at the worst possible time!” Avahkla’s expression did not change, calmly he handed back to her the data tablet she’d handed him earlier. He’d marked out a number of errors she’d made while compiling her reports, none of them by themselves were potentially disastrous but all together they were terribly misinforming to any commander relying on the information handed to them. She stared at them ashamed. “You should never have taken me as your apprentice,” she said quietly, eyes transfixed on the tablet. “There are others who could do better, I’m not ready, I...”

“Avhaya,” he snapped suddenly, his tone harsh, “I don’t ever want to hear you being so defeatist. You have performed admirably, I know what you are capable of so I implore you, what is it that has you so distracted?”

Beaten Avhaya sighed, “Alright, I’ll tell you.”