included.
Finlay fiddled with her display for a few seconds, pointedly ignoring Kusikov at Comms. Curious, Serengeti tapped into her station, found she’d focused in on the ship in question and pulled its data feed onto her screen so she could parse through the ocean of information it had on offer.
“See? Like I said—not an—” Finlay blinked and leaned forward, taking another look. “Ho-lee-shit,” she breathed. “He’s right, Captain. That’s an Aphelion out there, alright.”
Kusikov smiled in victory. “Told you.”
Finlay gave him a dirty look.
“Focus, Finlay,” Henricksen growled.
“Yes, sir.”
Finlay flushed and faced around, tapping busily at her station, sneaking glances now and then at the windows in front of her.
Quite the collection out there—a hodge-podge of vessels of various classes and designations that bore only a passing resemblance to a military fleet. Oh the Aphelion— Parallax, its beacon named it—had been built as a ship of war. An ancient one admittedly, and severely outclassed by the Valkyries and Dreadnoughts the Meridian Alliance brought with them. Even the Titans and Auroras were better equipped, their guns more powerful, their AIs several generations newer than what the Aphelion had on board. And Serengeti spotted Sunstorms and Scimitars scattered throughout the fleet, even a few Cyclone-class cruisers sprinkled here and there, but the bulk of the fleet had never been designed for combat. Merchant ships and retrofitted passenger vessels floated alongside ore haulers, canister containers, and other working-class ships.
“Jesus,” Finlay breathed, panning Number Four’s camera around. “Look at ‘em.” She zoomed in on a slab-sided rectangle off Serengeti’s port side. “Where’d they find that hunk of junk?” She frowned at her panel, tapped in a few places and then looked up at the schematic showing in the window. “Huh. No name.”
Just a series of numbers and letters repeating over and over again in the feed it threw at the stars.
“What do you suppose it is?” Finlay wondered, pulling the camera in tighter. “I’ve never even seen a ship like that.”
“Golem,” Kusikov told her, nodding at Number Four’s feed. “Major throwback. Long-range hauler, probably built a couple of centuries ago. Thought they were myth, honestly.” Kusikov rubbed his chin, devouring the Golem with his eyes. “It’s got jump drives, though. Looks like early plasma burners—buggy as hell.”
They were also pre-AI. The Aphelion was a wonder of modern technology compared to that Golem out there.
“Heard rumors the DSR was running cloned copies of those glitchy, gen seven AIs. But pre -AI?” Kusikov shook his head in disbelief. “Never imagined they’d resort to something like that.”
“Scrounging up non-AI ships to fill out their ranks. Foregoing ship’s intelligence entirely and relying solely on human crews.” Finlay shuddered. “Scary. Truly scary.”
“Finlay!” Henricksen smacked the panel in front of him. “What did I say?”
Finlay flinched and whirled around, eyes wide, a spot of color blooming on each cheek. “I—I—I—”
“What did I say?”
“I—Focus. Sir.”
“Right. Focus. Do your damn job. But instead you and your boyfriend over there are mooning over that collection of scrap heaps the DSR calls a fleet.”
“I didn’t—He’s not—” Finlay stammered.
“Look. We’re not dating, we just—”
“Shut it, Kusikov!”
Kusikov froze, mouth hanging open beneath the comms visor covering his eyes. A flush of anger crept across his cheeks, suffusing his face. “Like I’d waste my time—”
“You wanna think real hard before you finish that sentence,” Henricksen said quietly. “ Real hard.”
Kusikov ignored the warning. Either that or he just didn’t get it. “I’m just trying to explain—”
“I can relieve you if you want,” Henricksen interrupted. He cocked his head to one side, giving Kusikov an
Finlay fiddled with her display for a few seconds, pointedly ignoring Kusikov at Comms. Curious, Serengeti tapped into her station, found she’d focused in on the ship in question and pulled its data feed onto her screen so she could parse through the ocean of information it had on offer.
“See? Like I said—not an—” Finlay blinked and leaned forward, taking another look. “Ho-lee-shit,” she breathed. “He’s right, Captain. That’s an Aphelion out there, alright.”
Kusikov smiled in victory. “Told you.”
Finlay gave him a dirty look.
“Focus, Finlay,” Henricksen growled.
“Yes, sir.”
Finlay flushed and faced around, tapping busily at her station, sneaking glances now and then at the windows in front of her.
Quite the collection out there—a hodge-podge of vessels of various classes and designations that bore only a passing resemblance to a military fleet. Oh the Aphelion— Parallax, its beacon named it—had been built as a ship of war. An ancient one admittedly, and severely outclassed by the Valkyries and Dreadnoughts the Meridian Alliance brought with them. Even the Titans and Auroras were better equipped, their guns more powerful, their AIs several generations newer than what the Aphelion had on board. And Serengeti spotted Sunstorms and Scimitars scattered throughout the fleet, even a few Cyclone-class cruisers sprinkled here and there, but the bulk of the fleet had never been designed for combat. Merchant ships and retrofitted passenger vessels floated alongside ore haulers, canister containers, and other working-class ships.
“Jesus,” Finlay breathed, panning Number Four’s camera around. “Look at ‘em.” She zoomed in on a slab-sided rectangle off Serengeti’s port side. “Where’d they find that hunk of junk?” She frowned at her panel, tapped in a few places and then looked up at the schematic showing in the window. “Huh. No name.”
Just a series of numbers and letters repeating over and over again in the feed it threw at the stars.
“What do you suppose it is?” Finlay wondered, pulling the camera in tighter. “I’ve never even seen a ship like that.”
“Golem,” Kusikov told her, nodding at Number Four’s feed. “Major throwback. Long-range hauler, probably built a couple of centuries ago. Thought they were myth, honestly.” Kusikov rubbed his chin, devouring the Golem with his eyes. “It’s got jump drives, though. Looks like early plasma burners—buggy as hell.”
They were also pre-AI. The Aphelion was a wonder of modern technology compared to that Golem out there.
“Heard rumors the DSR was running cloned copies of those glitchy, gen seven AIs. But pre -AI?” Kusikov shook his head in disbelief. “Never imagined they’d resort to something like that.”
“Scrounging up non-AI ships to fill out their ranks. Foregoing ship’s intelligence entirely and relying solely on human crews.” Finlay shuddered. “Scary. Truly scary.”
“Finlay!” Henricksen smacked the panel in front of him. “What did I say?”
Finlay flinched and whirled around, eyes wide, a spot of color blooming on each cheek. “I—I—I—”
“What did I say?”
“I—Focus. Sir.”
“Right. Focus. Do your damn job. But instead you and your boyfriend over there are mooning over that collection of scrap heaps the DSR calls a fleet.”
“I didn’t—He’s not—” Finlay stammered.
“Look. We’re not dating, we just—”
“Shut it, Kusikov!”
Kusikov froze, mouth hanging open beneath the comms visor covering his eyes. A flush of anger crept across his cheeks, suffusing his face. “Like I’d waste my time—”
“You wanna think real hard before you finish that sentence,” Henricksen said quietly. “ Real hard.”
Kusikov ignored the warning. Either that or he just didn’t get it. “I’m just trying to explain—”
“I can relieve you if you want,” Henricksen interrupted. He cocked his head to one side, giving Kusikov an
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