Starwalker

Ship's log, 14:28, 17 May 2214
Location: Orbit around Corsica Sol, Corsica system
Status: Sublight transit

After yesterday’s rounds of skimming the corona, pulling streaks of burning gas along in my wake, and letting them fall back down again into new patterns, I feel like my hull is thin and pitted.

I don’t have any actual hull breaches but my heat-reflective paint has completely melted away in places. I had to send my boys out a couple of times between passes to patch up the coverage, as if my makeup was slipping. In the end, it was pretty close, but we managed to complete all of the passes without sustaining too much damage.

Elliott is still deeply unhappy. I have a bunch of sensors that need to be replaced and some hull plating that will need resetting; the seals aren’t as good as they were. I feel lighter, as if I lost some of my surface to the star, as if the waves washed a little too close to me and scoured some of me away. Inside, I’m scorched and aching, where I have cables burned out and sensors missing. But it’s nothing serious; nothing we can’t fix. Sure, our supplies might run a little low once we’re done with repairs, but in exchange for a happy star, that’s worth it, isn’t it?

Corsica Sol is a lot better than before. Her tidal patterns are closer to what they were before Cirilli started experimenting here. She doesn’t look like she’s snarling at her own planets all the time. I don’t get the feeling that she’s growling silently in the dark.

There’s still no sign of her avatar. We only have Kess as an example and she said she wasn’t typical of her kind, so maybe I just don’t know what to look for. I don’t know if Corsica ever got our messages, or understood them if she did. I’ve stopped transmitting them now that the work is done.

Today, we’re scanning her to make sure the fixes we’ve made stick. It’s possible that there could be storm systems buried under the surface that we haven’t seen yet. And also, we’ve decided to test out the repulsor weapons that Elliott has finally finished installing.

He was going to start on the repairs, but when it came to assessing the hull, it made more sense to start by replacing the plates we already knew would have to be changed out to install the gun-ports. Then we could see how the rest of me was holding up. Plus, now we have more spare hull plates to use if we need them.

So now I have new weapons and a scorched backside. The captain has decided to finish up our work in this system before we continue with patching up, because we can do most of that en route to our next destination: Alpha Apodis in the Apus constellation. That means that I need to test the repulsor weapons and clean up the shards of the Star Step project that are still drifting in this system.

Luckily, I can do both of those things at once. Elliott isn’t enthusiastic about this approach, mostly because of the stresses my bulkheads have already gone under. The repulsors are going to put new and different pressures on my integrity; the factors for potential failure are piling up. But there’s no data pointing to a likely danger, so the captain has decided to press ahead with the testing.

Personally, I feel solid enough to do this. My diagnostics have a few amber warnings in them but that’s not enough to make me uncomfortable. Plus, playing with these new weapons sounds like fun.

Cameron says that they’re not common due to the infrastructure required to make them work. They’re not like most weapons that can be pretty much strapped on and run without trouble: repulsors have been known to tear right through the ship trying to fire them. But that’s only with bad installations, and while Engineering might be messy and seem chaotic, Elliott is good at what he does. He has checked each installation a dozen times and run more diagnostics than my active memory can easily hold. This is no slap-dash, staple-it-to-the-hull-and-hope-for-the-best job.

Still, he’s not happy and that makes me unhappy. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to him about things; there has been too much to do and it’s all I’ve been able to do to get him to eat and sleep. Keeping him physically well is more important than the other stuff right now. We’ll have time for the rest later. Right?

Location: Engineering

ELLIOTT: (leaning back in a chair with one foot braced on the edge of a counter, he watches the schematics with tagged diagnostics projected into the air around him) Tell the Chief that you’re good to go with the testing, Starry.

STARRY: (voice only) Okay.

ELLIOTT: (pulls the inertial dampener readings up into focus.)

Location: Bridge

STARRY: Elliott reports that all systems are ready.

CAMERON: Lining up the first target.

CAPT: (nods and watches, letting the Chief take the lead.)

STARRY: Coming around on the first target now.

The first target is an old sensor pod. It’s drifting out near the first planet’s orbit and the plan is to punt it into the star.

It’s a bit like feeding her. Now that we’ve mended the damage we did, we’re offering her treats and clearing out all traces of the project from this system at the same time. She gets a snack and a clean system to shine on. That’s a fair exchange, right? I like to think Corsica Sol would like it.

Cameron is letting Rosie do the firing part of the test; the Chief is monitoring accuracy and effectiveness. I’m doing the flying, keeping it slow and steady for now, lining up for the first shot from the forward array. I back-thrust when I’m in position and hold still.

CAMERON: Brasco, fire at will.

ROSIE: (grinning at the console display wrapping around her, hands already wrist-deep in the interface) Hoo-yeah!

Wow, I felt that through my whole skeleton. The inertial dampeners absorb the pressure as it flings me over onto my back. It shoves me right out of position; my thrusters need a few more seconds to pull me back around to where I started.

The sensor pod isn’t so lucky: it bounces off across the system, spinning end over end on its way towards Corsica Sol.

CAMERON: Angle isn’t good.

ROSIE: It looked fine from the targetting system.

STARRY: Want me to move into position for a second strike?

CAMERON: Yes, do it. Brasco, recalculate the next one.

STARRY: Bringing up projections on your screen, Rosie.

ROSIE: (grumbling) It was fine the first time. It’s a big star! It won’t miss!

CAMERON: (sees that the SecOff is preparing the second shot as she was asked, so says nothing.)

I think the repulsor strike hit a protrusion on the sensor pod and that’s why it’s spinning, why its angle isn’t the one we intended. It will still hit the star on this trajectory, assuming the spin doesn’t pull it further off-course, but it’s not how we wanted it.

Here we go again; I’m in place, matching course with the pod. Rosie is even more focussed than before, as if the pod’s wayward path personally offended her. Her eyes are narrowed as she watches the console’s display, and she times the next shot so that it strikes the side of the pod, missing all of the protrusions. I run the data down her screens to help her.

Ouch, that time it felt like it was trying to twist me. I let it push my course out into a curve away from the star; I’m trying to balance out the shove of the repulsor shots but it still flips me over. I can’t counter it too much or the force that’s pushing me across empty space will be concentrated on my internal structure. Better to let it move me than crush and warp my own body.

The pod is repelled off towards the heart of Corsica Sol, blasted out of its spin. It falls, headlong and hopeless, and there’s the tiniest flare when it strikes the corona.

ROSIE: (whoops and claps) Gotcha that time, you little bastard.

CAPT: (trying not to smile at Rosie’s antics) Starry?

STARRY: Boards are green. Integrity and the inertial dampeners are holding. But we probably don’t want to fire two of those at once.

CAMERON: (nods) Standard procedure with repulsors is only firing one at a time.

STARRY: Next target?

CAMERON: Yes, bring us around for a passing shot.

ROSIE: (wriggles in her seat and pokes the interface with her fingers to bring the next target into her view. She switches to the repulsor set into the ship’s underside and the targetting angle recalibrates to it.)

STARRY: No problem. Five minutes until we’re within range.

Another sensor pod drifts not far away, this one scarred from meteor strikes. I guess it was ruined and replaced, years ago from the age of the markings. It wasn’t worth salvaging, so they just left it out here. No matter; it makes good target practice now.

ELLIOTT: (scowling at the diagnostic readouts) Starry, how’re your forward bulkheads feeling?

STARRY: (voice only) They were a little strained when we fired, but they’re okay now.

ELLIOTT: The IDs need to be recalibrated. They can’t take that kind of punching. Though I’m not sure how much we can do: they’re built to counter the force from your engines. not to stop your engines shoving you around. (He scrubs the back of his head with irritation.) You’re not constructed to counter that kind of shove manually.

STARRY: We could restrict the angle range of the repulsors, so we can control how the kickback impacts on my internal structure.

ELLIOTT: Yeah, that’d help. Might need to before something shears.

STARRY: Do you want me to restrict it now?

ELLIOTT: (scans the diagnostic data for a long moment. Finally, he shakes his head.) Nah, let’s run the tests; I’m still collecting readings. Make sure they spread the load, though.

STARRY: Testing the belly repulsor now.

ELLIOTT: (nods and goes back to flicking through the diagnostic data.)

Around we come to the second target, and Rosie’s hands are eager on the targetting controls. She’s a SecOff with something to prove. I’ll turn myself to reduce the angle she fires at; that should make it easier on my inertial dampeners.

And the second shot is away! Much cleaner this time; the sensor pod is batted neatly towards Corsica Sol. Rosie is cheering for herself; in Engineering, Elliott is still frowning, but hopefully he’s a little happier this time, too. My engines are burning hard to bring me back on-course.

Two down; another four objects to go. I’m not sure I like this repulsor technology, but it does make a cleanup like this easier. Time to flip over and use the one on my top-side.

Ship's log, 06:30, 16 May 2214
Location: Orbit around Corsica Sol, Corsica system
Status: Star Step drive active

It’s a new morning and everyone is eager to get going today. We have a new plan, a new way to help this star. The latest simulations ran smoother than our previous ones, and returned the star to a calmer state much more quickly than our poke-and-prod method did.

Of course, it’s a lot more dangerous for us and the previous simulations proved to be inaccurate. I have to get between the surface of the star and the gravity distortion I’m creating, and close enough to affect the star itself. It’s going to get hot.

But we’re going to give it a go. I’ve told the captain a hundred times that I’m ready to do this. He seems wary of the whole idea – that’s his job, really – but he’s willing to try it. The kinder approach to fixing the star sits well with him.

Everyone is on the Bridge except Elliott and the doc (and the Lieutenant, of course; he never leaves his cell).

Elliott is down in Engineering, grumbling to himself. He’s more like his old self today: bitching and griping and throwing tools around. He has lost the lingering paleness from being sick and stomps around with offended authority. But at the same time, he barely has a smile for me at all, and he hasn’t been to visit me in a few days. Even Bit is keeping his head down.

I think I’ve upset him, though I’m not sure how. We’ve been over the projections for this plan several times and he agrees – albeit grudgingly – that it should be within my tolerances. Of course, he won’t tell me what’s bothering him, so it can’t be anything to do with what we’re about to do, so… I’ll have to catch him later and find out what it is.

Location: Bridge

CAPTAIN: (standing before the huge hologram of Corsica Sol and looking up at the green lines swirling precisely around it, plotting out the ship’s course to come) Starry, are we ready?

STARRY: (standing behind his right shoulder) I’m on my last pass to charge up now, captain. Filaments are almost at 100%.

CAPT: All right, get us into position. Is everyone good?

STARRY: Everyone except you, sir.

CAPT: (twists to give her a surprised look.)

STARRY: (gestures towards his chair) This is going to get a bit rough. You all need to be sitting and strapped in for this.

CAPT: (steps to his chair) Monaghan and Dr Valdimir are secure?

STARRY: (grins) Everyone except you. Coming around now.

(On the holographic projection, the glowing blue ship-shape swerves around towards the start of the green path.)

Here we go. It’s time to cast my net. The fabric of it is heavy in my hands, buzzing and pulsing as the charge in my filaments grows. I’ve gathered such a fine skein of power and now I need to weave it into the right shape to catch a wave of fire.

Filament charging: 100%
Star Step drive ready...

I’m a couple of hundred kilometres above where I need to be. Getting everything set, everything in place. The tips of my filaments glow and dance, and I think about music again. I think about the song I felt the last time I opened up the universe and looked inside, the elusive melody that is somehow the key to everything. Or the key to undoing everything.

That isn’t what I’m here to do today. This is a different dance, but maybe the melody can be similar. Maybe it can help me choose the right steps, the best tempo. My filaments weave and I push with my sublights to descend towards the corona. I am a gold fragment upon a sea of fire, diving fast.

(All over the ship, safety harnesses lash out and around the crew. On the Bridge, the chairs snug their charges in close: chest, lap, and legs. The arms are left loose for now; they’ll lock down only if it gets rough.

In Med Bay, the doctor is subjected to similar treatment. He sighs and submits, then goes back to his reading.

In Engineering, Elliott is swearing to himself as he’s forced to sit in a proper chair rather than perched on a stool. He waits until the harness is fastened, then goes about pulling up the diagnostics of the ship’s systems again. He’s monitoring everything with a scowl and jabbing at the interface with his fingers.)

Filaments weave faster, picking up the pace of the dance. Star-fire burns my belly as I swoop down and fling my arms wide, flaring my net before me. Sublights push hard, fighting the pull of the hot maw below me. I bleed heat. I shove the net and try to chase it.

The roil of incandescent gas below me is responding. It feels the attraction of my net and reaches for it, fiery fingertips grasping near my tail. My engines burn hard to avoid burning, and I briefly make no sense at all. I tremble and grit my electronic teeth, my crew grip their chairs, and the fire around me shifts. I move forward.

I am a bubble caught between two destructive fronts: the gravity pull before me and the molten wave behind. Both would like to tear me apart. I power forward, pushing one and pulling the other, and gradually we pick up pace. There’s too much to concentrate on and my avatar flicks off on the Bridge. I have to focus. I have to weave and dance; I have to keep my sublights at full throttle to avoid falling into the fire. For a brief moment, I think I hear the star roaring at me.

CAPT: (sitting stiffly in his harness) How are we doing?

CAMERON: Pushing tolerances, sir.

CIRILLI: We have traction, though. The wave is following us.

CAPT: (over internal comms) Monaghan?

ELLIOTT: (over internal comms, from Engineering) Heat sinks are at max, captain. We can’t keep this up for much longer.

CAPT: Starry?

STARRY: (voice only, sounding tense) Little busy right now. We’re on track.

LANG LANG: Another thirty seconds for this first pass, captain.

CAPT: (over comms) Monaghan, will we make that?

ELLIOTT: (over comms) Barely. Ask me again in twenty seconds.

The star is chasing me. She reaches for me with burning hands; I dodge to the right to avoid the fingertip lunging at my tailfins. I push faster and faster, drawing her onwards, stretching her out, and wrapping the fabric of her around the curve of her own belly.

Parts of me are glowing almost as brightly as she is. This is not a good thing; a ship should not outshine a star.

CAPT: (tensely, over internal comms) Monaghan?

ELLIOTT: (from Engineering) No breaches yet. Keep going.

CAPT: (frowns as a shudder works its way through the ship) It’s getting rough.

ELLIOTT: IDs are struggling with our proximity to the star. They’ll hold, don’t worry.

Too many sources of force to balance. The crew is feeling it. The doc looks green; so does Lang Lang. I protect them as much as I can.

Another 10 seconds. I slide to the left to pull that side of the wave onwards; it was falling behind. It spurts and I rock back again, teasing the star’s surface now. The wave is building in my wake, piling up and up in my rear sensors, rage ready to be unleashed.

5 seconds. I am tiny and running. I’m the rabbit and the greyhounds are hungry, slavering at my heels.

My net is full of sharks when I let it go. The filaments bow out of their dance and the gravity net fizzles. I punch through it, feel it shiver over my hull, picking at my seams with failing fingers. Fiery mouths yawn behind me, snap closed on the space behind my fins, but it’s the last leap, the last chance, because it’s not running on my strength any more.

The wave stretches and stumbles, drawing itself out to its limits before it starts to fall back onto itself. It tumbles back down to the surface, shattering across the star. Flares jump up in protest as ripples spread outwards, and the wake of it bubbles, smoothing down with grumbling reluctance.

I arc up and away from the corona, streaming heat behind me. Parts of me are glowing, and my gold heat-shielding paint feels far too thin.

(All over the ship, the harnesses release the crew.)

STARRY: (voice only, shipwide) First pass complete. Retreating to standard orbit distance.

CAPT: (over internal comms) Monaghan, report.

ELLIOTT: (poring over the diagnostic data) Got some heat-related issues, captain. Couple of systems shorting out. Gonna take me a few to assess it.

CAPT: Is the damage bad?

ELLIOTT: Probably not. Ask me again once we’ve cooled down.

CAPT: (on the Bridge) Lang Lang, Dr Cirilli? How’s the star looking?

LANG LANG: (swallowing and blinking at her readouts) Gravity tide patterns are following what we predicted. They’re still settling after our pass, but so far, it seems to be doing what we hoped.

CIRILLI: Star Step drive is looking good. The new algorithms seem to be working the way we predicted.

CAPT: Starry? How are you?

STARRY: (voice only) A little hot under the collar, sir. Took longer to get going than we anticipated.

CAPT: (nods, satisfied.)

STARRY: Thirty minutes until the next pass, according to the simulations.

CAPT: Let’s see if we can find a way to avoid scorching ourselves before then.

I’m not sure how we can reduce the impact of the heat any more than we already have, but right now I’ll accept any solutions the captain can come up with.

Cirilli calls the filament patterns an algorithm; I call it music. It just makes more sense that way; my processors see code and maths, but it’s not that different to how I have songs encoded in my archives. I could probably write algorithms to describe them, too, if I wanted to. And there’s something artistic in the way the maths is interpreted, something improvisational in the translation of the equation to the movements of the filaments. They describe the code, painting patterns on the void in gravitational forces.

I guess it’s just what makes sense to me, where my human brain-code tries to understand the complexity of warping the fabric of the universe. It’s not like I’m going to go around humming it to myself, or turning it into an aria I sing to the stars. They’d probably gang up and lynch me whenever they heard it (and rightly so, considering).

Heat is still pouring off my skin, venting out into the black. I have to be careful with how quickly I let the heat-sinks work; if I chill too quickly, my hull will warp, and possibly the bulkheads beneath too. I could fracture the metal and undo all of Elliott’s hard work installing the new gear. It could split me open like an overripe melon. Carefully, carefully, and hope that there isn’t too much damage underneath.

I do have a few systems shorting out. Rear and belly sensors are intermittent, but they should come back up once the weight of the heat has been lifted. A couple of them might be burnt out, but I had to keep them active so I could spot any danger coming up at me from the star. It was worth the price and it’s not like I don’t have plenty of replacement sensors in my stores if I need them.

Of course, half an hour isn’t long when it comes to replacing parts like that. It will barely be enough time to assess the true extent of the damage, and then I’ll have to dive back down and start it all over again. We’re setting chain reactions in motion and we have to capitalise on them while we can, or true balance is going to take days and days to achieve.

The next time, perhaps I’ll set the net in place before I dip down to the surface, rather than during, and I could make the dive shallower so I can build up momentum before the star’s pull can interfere. Maybe that’ll stop that awful pause while I struggle for traction. But the charge in the filaments only lasts so long, and I’ll have to be sure that I can complete the pass. It’s a small window to work within.

Looking back to where I’ve been, I can see a smooth, calm plain forming across the star’s surface. That sight makes the singed tips of my tailfins worth it. It makes me know that this just might work. We can pull and tug this star into shape. It’s like performing a facelift on her in small strips; she has a huge face with many wrinkles. It’s like wrapping her in bandages, to heal her, and to settle her into a happier pattern. It’s like smoothing a garden of sand, one fingertip at a time.

Phase one of the new plan: complete and successful.

For those who are curious about behind-the-scenes stuff, I wrote about my plans for Starwalker in 2013 (among other projects) over on my writing blog recently. There’s also a post about how writing Starwalker has been going lately.

Please feel free to drop by, comment, make suggestions, or just say hi!

Ship's log, 11:19, 15 May 2214
Location: Orbit around Corsica Sol, Corsica system
Status: Star Step drive active

This isn’t going well.

We started the work on Corsica’s gravity tides four hours ago. We had the simulations all calculated, the factors all built in. We had a plan of attack. Everyone agreed that we had a good chance with this pattern of gravity manipulations.

But from the first touch of my filaments, things went awry. I wound the gravity into a punch to create a wave in the corona, which would in turn shove against the worst of the tides, but the way the waves clashed didn’t match my simulations at all. The force spat and spilled around the edges of the impact, warping the tides into a different shape. The power of the tide was only marginally reduced.

Location: Bridge

CAPTAIN: (seated in his chair, gripping the arms tightly as he frowns at the hologram of the sun before him) Starry, Lang Lang, report. Are we gaining any traction?

STARRY: (voice only) A little every time, but much less than predicted.

LANG LANG: At this rate, it’ll take us more than five times as long as we estimated to get the star back under control.

CAPT: Dr Cirilli, any idea what’s going on?

CIRILLI: (scowling at her own console) No, captain. I’ve never seen anything like it. This star has always been a little reactionary when it comes to gravity manipulations, but nothing like this.

STARRY: It’s like she’s fighting us.

CAPT: (smooths his hair back thoughtfully) Maybe that’s exactly what she’s doing. Starry, can you broadcast a message?

STARRY: To the star? Sure, I can do that. We come in peace, on all frequencies.

CAPT: Good, good. Lang Lang, I want you to look at alternate ways to do this.

LANG LANG: Alternate?

CAPT: If the star doesn’t react well to our current approach, let’s see if we can find another one.

The captain is going for the psychological angle. Maybe he’s right: maybe our mistake was coming and poking at the star, just like we have before. Sure, we were blind then and now we can see what we’re doing, but the star doesn’t know that. All she knows is that we’re hurting her again.

Kess knew what we were doing when we manipulated Terra Sol’s tides. She wanted us to do it. But Corsica Sol has no idea.

I have no idea if broadcasting a message to the star will work. Does she even speak our language? Any of our languages? I’ll do it in every language in my archives, spoken and written, pictograms and hieroglyphics, Morse code and binary. But what should I say?

The danger with broadcasting out into the void like this is that there’s no way to stop a message once it’s free. I can aim it at the star all I like, but it’ll still reflect and refract, and keep travelling through space. Given enough time, it’ll reach a sensor somewhere. Someone will hear me.

So it’s probably best not to say ‘sorry for using you to tear a hole in reality’. There’s no point destroying a secret project if I’m going to broadcast its existence across the universe. I have to keep this bland and careful. Anonymous and detail-free.

So here’s what I’m sending:

We know we hurt you and we’re sorry. We didn’t know the true impacts of what we were doing before but we understand now. We’re not here to make excuses, though we do hope for your forgiveness. We’re here to mend the damage and put things right for you. We know how to mend the injuries we caused. It’s going to hurt a bit, but please believe us when we say that it will help you. When this work is done, you will feel much better.

My communications array is humming with the message, with all the different translations and permutations of it. I am transmitting it over and over, pouring it out into the black in the hopes that she will hear and understand. I don’t know if she’ll listen. Maybe she’s too hurt to take any notice of us. Maybe she can’t even pick up the transmissions.

Maybe she’s too angry with us for all that we’ve done here. I wouldn’t blame her. Too often, the human race has forged ahead ‘for the best’ and made mistakes. There has been collateral damage. People have been hurt and died. Stars have been hurt and gone out.

So maybe she’s right to be angry. Maybe we shouldn’t be able to set things right as easily as we’d like. Maybe we should pay for all that we’ve done. I’m sure that one day, that will happen. But I hope we get the chance to mend all the damage first. Once that’s done and my crew is safe, I’ll happily put my nose in the docking clamps and surrender myself to whatever authority wants me. If any of us make it that far.

But in the meantime, we have work to do. This time, I believe we really do know what’s best. We hurt to help. There might be a better way to do this but we don’t have time to find it. We have to cut these patterns off now before another star tears itself to pieces and goes out, like Grisette. Or gives under the strain and damages her system, like Terra Sol.

The star isn’t giving any signs that she has heard me. I keep transmitting to her with hope… always with hope. And line myself up for the next prickle of gravity, the next shove against her tides, because we have work to do. There are reactions we’ve set in motion that we need to counter; now that we’ve started, we can’t stop.

LANG LANG: Sir, I think I have an idea.

CAPT: What is it, Lang Lang?

LANG LANG: What if we went for the opposite tack? Rather than pushing at the tides and hitting them head on… what if we pulled them instead?

CAPT: (frowning in thought) You mean if we tried to stretch them out rather than stop them?

LANG LANG: Yes. It’s less… confrontational. And I think it would be kinder to the star. Less traumatic. More like… smoothing it down.

CAPT: Dr Cirilli, would that work? Can the Step drive do that?

CIRILLI: (fingertips tapping on the arm of her chair) I’m not sure. It’s not what it was built for. The Step drive usually focusses the gravity into a point, and pushes it outwards. This would require reversing the polarity of the gravitational charge to draw the tides towards us. And then moving so we didn’t get swamped.

CAPT: But can it do it?

CIRILLI: (lifting her hands to call up calculations on the console hovering over the left arm of her chair) It’s possible. I’ll need to check if the systems could handle it.

CAPT: Starry?

STARRY: (appearing on the right side of the captain’s chair) I think I can see what Lang Lang is asking us to do. I can fly it – hell, I can fly anything – but I don’t know about reversing the polarity. I’ll talk to Elliott.

CAPT: (nods) Good, do so.

Location: Engineering

(The engineer is currently seated at a counter, bending over a complicated bit of machinery. Goggles cover his eyes as a welder spits sparks over his gloved hands. Bit ticks around on the counter nearby, holding out tiny threads of wire for him to take. Elliott doesn’t even look up when he snags the next piece of wire, focussed on his work.)

STARRY: (appearing behind him) Elliott?

ELLIOTT: (jumping) GAH. Can’t you warn a guy when you do that?

STARRY: What do you want me to do, wear a bell?

ELLIOTT: (switching off the torch and pushing his goggles up) You and Casper, yes please.

STARRY: (rolls her eyes) Need you to look at the Step drive real quick. We want to know if the polarity of the gravity can be reversed.

ELLIOTT: Through the filaments? (He pulls the goggles off entirely and drops them on the counter. Bit skitters out of the way before he’s squashed.)

STARRY: Yeah.

ELLIOTT: I don’t think they’re set up to handle that. You charge them up with gravity, not anti-gravity. What are you trying to do?

STARRY: Pull the star’s tides rather than poke them.

ELLIOTT: (tosses his gloves onto the counter as well and scrubs the back of his head with one hand) Blowing’s easier than sucking.

STARRY: Elliott!

ELLIOTT: (grins at her lopsidedly) You know what I mean.

STARRY: You’re awful. So we can’t do it?

ELLIOTT: (shrugs) It’s like these repulsors I’m trying to get working: all they do is push. It’s mostly a matter of which direction you want to push it in.

STARRY: (eyes lighting up) And because we’re using gravity, if we aim it the right way, we can draw other stuff along behind it.

ELLIOTT: (watching her uncertainly) I guess… this is starting to sound a bit dangerous.

STARRY: It’ll be fine. My heat protection is intact; I can get close enough for this.

ELLIOTT: Starry…

STARRY: (grins and disappears.)

Location: Bridge

STARRY: Captain, I think we have something.

CAPT: (looks up from the simulations rolling in the console hovering over his chair) Yes?

STARRY: Instead of punching down into the star, we need to fire across its surface and up, to draw the tide along after it. And fly so we’re dragging it along in our wake.

LANG LANG: Yes! Yes, that’s what I mean!

CIRILLI: That would put us very close to the corona, to be close enough to catch the star in the wake like that.

STARRY: (grins) I can fly anything.

ELLIOTT: (over internal comms) Captain! Are you planning to burn Starry’s ass off?

CAPT: We’re trying to plan our way around that kind of eventuality, Monaghan.

ELLIOTT: Because I just got done fitting that ass with a shit-load of expensive weaponry.

CAPT: I’m fairly sure that we won’t need to shoot at anyone, so the weaponry will stay stowed while we do this.

ELLIOTT: That’s not what–

CAPT: I know, Monaghan. We’re looking into it. Don’t worry, no-one wants to risk the ship. Starry, draw us back to standard orbit. Let’s see some simulations.

STARRY: Draw back? But the tides now…

CAPT: They’ll be fine while we work this out. Get all your resources on it.

STARRY: (cheerfully) Adjusting orbit.

I like this idea. It’ll be like casting a net and drawing it along, raking the surface of the star like its a ruffled zen garden. The net will be in front of me rather than behind, and it’ll draw me along with it, too. I guess that means it won’t be hard to keep up.

Lang Lang’s right: this will be much less traumatic for the star. Who knows, maybe Corsica will even realise what we’re doing and cooperate. Maybe we’ll get to see her avatar and be able to make amends in person.

But first, I need to run the calculations and spin out the scenarios. Work out just how close to the corona I need to get to make this work. It’s going to be a hell of a flight and I can’t wait to get started.

Ship's log, 23:42, 13 May 2214
Location: Orbit around Corsica Sol, Corsica system
Status: Maintaining orbit

This is one of those days when we really miss the people we’ve lost. Not their faces or their cheer. Not the way they lighten the mood or make the work easier. Today, we miss their hands on their stations.

We’re circling Corsica, analysing the scans of her gravity tides. They’re erratic, frantic, tearing and twisting at themselves. Years of experimentation, with hundreds of portals opening and closing, have taken their toll. It’s not as wild and drastic as Terra Sol is, but in its own way, it’s more damaged and failing. The wounds are fresher here, while Terra Sol’s injuries had the scars and strain of fighting for balance for so many years.

With no Ebling to help, there’s only Cirilli and me analysing the data and building the probability matrices. Lang Lang is helping out as well, monitoring the scenarios. It’s all taking much longer than any of us would like. We hadn’t meant to stay here quite this long.

In the dark hours when my crew is asleep, I find myself scanning the rest of Corsica’s system when I should be taking more readings from the star.

I know why I keep doing it, even if it’s not exactly a conscious decision. I’m looking for signs of Corsica’s avatar. Will she be angry with me too? Will she take the time to speak with us, the way Kess did? Will she understand us, or is Kess different because we were born under her light? Will Corsica’s avatar even be a ‘she’, or do they come in masculine forms, or are they truly genderless?

Will she be furious? Can she even see or sense us here?

I wish I had taken more time to speak to Terra Sol’s avatar. There are so many questions I can’t answer, and some I’m afraid of. I wish she was here.

I’ve been unhitched from my company for a week and I’m already looking for someone to guide me. I guess those behavioural protocols are more embedded than I thought. I should focus on merely obeying my captain’s commands and stop worrying about anything larger or further than that.

Corsica has a few planets, but she doesn’t have any people of her own. I wonder what form her avatar would take. Something like her satellites? Maybe she doesn’t have an external body at all; maybe she is the star and that’s all she needs to be.

It still bothers me that she is twisting so wildly. It’s almost like I can hear her screaming under the pressure of it, and what makes it all worse is that I never noticed it before. I’ve looked at her many times in my short life. I’ve skimmed her gravity patterns, charged up my filaments and torn open the universe, right here, several times, but I never noticed just how much pain she was in.

I guess meeting a star changes that sort of thing.

Also, I never realised before how many fragments of the Star Step project drift around this system. The last time I was here, I was so focussed on the Stepping that I barely picked up on anything else. Old scanners are drifting in loose orbits, just inside the path of the first planet. There’s apparatus parked near the pole of the star: it’s a metal ring laced with struts and decapitated cables. This frame was once home to the first portal-punching equipment, before it was refined into the system that’s now stitched into my hull. Most of the portal manipulation equipment is gone now – removed to prevent anyone stumbling across it and reverse-engineering from it – but the frame remains with some of the less bespoke components.

We’ll have to deal with all of these shards. I want to scrub this system clean, so it’s as if this project never happened here. Heal this poor, struggling star. Set it to rights. Tidy it and leave it the way it should be. I’d like to apologise, though how or to whom, I have no idea.

But first, we have to calculate the best way to rebalance the star. We have better data this time – Cirilli’s project archives have the readings from before the first experiments were conducted here, before she was damaged – so we have a clearer goal to work towards. It’s going to take a while to refine the scenarios into a plan of attack, though.

There’s no need to rush. Elliott is busily installing the next phase of my weaponry; I’m still in pieces on the inside. There isn’t any external work going on yet, not when I’m orbiting this close to the star, but that will come later. More hull panels will be adapted with ports and hatches, so I can pop out the muzzles of new weapons.

The ones being installed now use repulsor technology. Similar to artificial gravity generators, and distant cousins by marriage to the gravity manipulations performed by the Step drive. They fire pellets of force that literally punch objects. I’m not sure how that’s useful in combat – I tend to think that blowing stuff up is the norm, rather than just slapping it around – but I’m sure Cameron had something in mind when she asked for them to be included in the schematics.

The hardest thing is going to be countering the recoil of such a punch. Elliot is having to reconfigure some of my inertial dampening to handle the forces involved; right now, the bulk of its protection is set up to counter the pull and crush of the FTL jumps, and while the repulsors won’t have anything like that kind of power, the angle of the force and its stresses on my bodywork make it a tricky problem to solve. We could fix the weapons’ aim to make the solution easier, but that means I’d have to be in exactly the right position for us to be able to shoot it, and that doesn’t seem very practical.

I’m sure Elliott will figure it out. He’s enthusiastic about the project and enjoying the chance to do something different with his days. He likes the puzzle that is building my new body, and he has a better colour to him now. He’s listening to me when I tell him to eat, or rest, or shower (he makes the air scrubbers down in Engineering work hard sometimes). He’s looking after himself more. Every day, that awful sickness seems more and more like a memory I should archive.

He dropped his virtual self into my systems yesterday to look at the inertial dampening issue. He seems to be doing that more often. Dropping into my systems, that is, not playing with my IDs. Most of the time, it’s necessary for the work he’s doing: integrating new weapons or checking the data routing to the Bridge consoles for feedback sensitivity. Other times, the reason feels thinner.

I don’t mind, though. I like it when he visits me. He holds my hand and I don’t feel like a ship at all. He kisses me sometimes, just before he logs out, or I kiss him. He makes me giddy and silly inside, and I’m starting to look forward to when he links in next. There’s this smile he gets when I surprise him, as if he has forgotten that I’m there or that I’m… I don’t know. As if he has only just realised that he can touch my hand when he’s in there.

He gets this other look sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking. He looks worried and a little sad. I don’t know where it comes from: I ask him what’s wrong and then he smiles and it’s like I imagined it. He touches my cheek and tells me it’s all fine, and I don’t know whether to melt or be furious with him.

All I know for sure is that I don’t want him to stop visiting me.

It’s very distracting. I need to focus on the work at hand, on analysing the star’s patterns and coming up with the best way of countering the tides so I can calm them. Everyone is asleep right now, and my scenario simulators are all chock-full of permutations to test, and I’m otherwise twiddling my electronic thumbs. It’s hard not to watch him sleep. To watch the rise and fall of his biorhythms and wonder what he’s dreaming about. Bit is there beside him most of the time, doing much the same thing, if not quite for the same reason.

Now I’m wondering if it’s a bit creepy. It’s his own fault for falling asleep in Engineering again, slumped over one of the counters. He’d probably think it was creepy that I watch him, though, if he knew. And it’s silly. I should be doing something useful with my time. I should send Bit off to clean out the ducts; it’s the job he was built for. This sentiment is foolish and wasteful. And… going where?

I don’t want to think about this. It’s stupid. It’s just a nice… thing… with kissing, and… Dammit. Not thinking about this!

I’m going back to supervising my boys in their work. While the crew sleeps, Big Ass and Wide Load are rearranging the cargo bays. They’re unpacking the next lot of equipment to be installed, and sorting the parts that have been removed from my innards into neat rows. Waldo is patiently coiling cables, after Elliott ripped a whole slew of them out of a bulkhead earlier today. By morning, it will all be cleaned, sorted, and laid out ready to be reused.

I’ve sent Bit off to sort Elliott’s tools as well. Elliott gets grumpy when we do that but that’s just his habit. He likes it when he can find things, and his efficiency is much better after we ignore him and tidy his work areas. I checked his data. I didn’t tell him, though; he’d just swear at me for interfering with his work.

Casper is sliding a pillow under Elliott’s head and drawing a blanket over his shoulders. I could just modulate the temperature in the room, but he sleeps more quietly when there’s a blanket on him. I wonder where that instinct comes from.

Perhaps I’m only curious about his dreams because I don’t have any of my own. Or maybe it’s because I walked in his head once and saw his nightmares. They weren’t truly his, though: they were the twisted ones Tripi inflicted on him. I don’t know how much influence he had over them.

Idiot ship, still letting him distract you from doing something important.

Oh look, there’s Dr Valdimir leaving the Lieutenant’s quarters. They’re still spending many nights together, locked in the cell we’ve given to our pirate prisoner.

The Chief isn’t happy about the frequency of the doctor’s access to the cell, but she hasn’t altered the security yet. Even though the Lieutenant hasn’t ever tried anything, trust isn’t high on our list of things to do right now. Should he try anything, I can always trip his captive collar and flatten him, even if he gets out of the cell.

The sensors in the corridor catch a glimpse of him through the open door, before it slides shut behind the doctor. Lieutenant Laurence is sprawled on the bed and escape seems to be the furthest thing from his mind. The sheet is rumpled as it lies over him, and he doesn’t bother to cover his metal feet at all. He’s propped up on a prosthetic elbow, watching the doctor leave with sleepy eyes and a smile on the flesh side of his mouth.

The door is closed now and I can tell from the energy consumption of the room that he has put out the light. I give him his privacy because I see no reason not to; I check in randomly enough to know he’s not doing anything untoward in there.

Dr Valdimir is smiling quietly to himself as he heads to his room. His clothes are loose, barely fastened, but that’s not unusual; he seldom stays the whole night with his lover. Tonight he seems like he has a secret, or he just won a silent bet. It’s not the smile of a deliriously happy man after spending an evening with someone he’s in love with; I know what that looks like (Danika had seen it). It is a smile of satisfaction, though. Maybe the sex is just that good, even with all the metal parts involved. I guess he doesn’t mind his lover being part machinery.

Danika never really understood that. I mean, sure, she had implants herself, but no real prosthetics. And flesh-looking prosthetics didn’t bother her – she dated a guy with a fake leg once, but it was so real-looking that she could hardly tell – but when the parts looked truly mechanical? It wasn’t what she considered sexy. I don’t know if she would ever have turned someone away just because of that – it never came up – but it would have been a wrinkle in the fabric.

On the other hand, some people really go for that kind of thing. The more implants and prosthetics are available, the more the kinks become mainstream. But the doctor doesn’t seem like a metalophile or a mechophile. He just doesn’t seem to care that much, even though the Lieutenant is more metal than most. It makes me wonder what he does look for in a partner. Is it more psychological than physical for him? Or is he that open to physical options?

I wonder what Elliott– no, no I don’t. I’m not going there. I don’t have anything like a physical body that he could… even if he wanted… and he doesn’t. And we don’t… we’re not like that. Are we? I can’t hold him that way. I have a holographic avatar and that’s enough.

It’s different for us anyway. We’re different. I’m not even the same species, or alive, or… yeah.

I’m going to go back to not watching him sleep. Maybe I’ll run some more complex gravity tide simulations for a while, and see if I can have a way to fix Corsica by morning. Staring into the sun seems like the best way to occupy myself right now.

I wonder if she’s watching us, too.

Thanks for reading Starwalker. This story (and its writer) would be lost without you.

I wish you all a wonderful day. Whatever holiday, festival, or occasion you celebrate, whatever flavour you favour, I hope it’s a good one.

Starry sends hugs too!

Captain's log, 21:14, 8 May 2214
Location: Approaching FTL corridor to Corsica, edge of Alpha Centauri system
Status: Sublight transit

This is Captain Warwick reporting. We are on our way out of the Alpha Centauri system, heading for the next destination on our list: Corsica.

The first phase of the refit has been completed. Engineer Monaghan is refining the calibration of several systems; he tells me that we need to increase the buffering on the hull, but overall it is going well. Once he’s done with that work, we’ll move on to the second phase of this endeavour. Most of the rest of it can be done in transit, between FTL jumps. We have a long way to go, so that’s what we’ll do.

The plan is to get the weapons systems and the other adaptations to the ship completed before we get to the Alpha Apodis system in Apus. I want to be fully armed and armoured before we get anywhere near the base of the pirate fleets. Hopefully we won’t encounter them but I can’t plan for hopeful. I have to keep this ship in one piece for as long as possible.

The crew is pulling together behind our plan. The changing of the ident marked the first tangible step on the journey, and the test run through the asteroid belt proved that we could pull off the sort of thing we’re aiming for. We won’t be battling asteroids when it comes down to it but there’s no harm in an easy win. Monaghan and Cameron both promise that we’ll do better next time, once the systems are tweaked.

Over the past couple of weeks, the biggest change I’ve seen has been in Dr Cirilli. She has been withdrawn since we found out what the Star Step drive does to the stars it manipulates, and worse since we decided to end the project. Her project. Lately, the ship and I have noticed that she has been getting privately drunk, more frequently than is healthy. Starry has been more worried than she has said explicitly and so have I. Lorena won’t talk about it. She brushes me off whenever I try to bring it up, and when I ask her outright, she tells me it’s none of my business.

I’m the captain of my ship; the well-being of those on board is my business. But it hasn’t impacted her work and Starry has been keeping an eye on her. I spoke with Dr Valdimir and he advised me to leave it alone – she was showing some of the classics signs of grief, he said – so I haven’t taken any further steps to intervene. We hoped that she would come out of it on her own, and now it seems that she has.

She came to me this morning with some proposals for ways we can tackle the dismantling of this project of hers. She knows where her project’s data is stored – she has the locations of the backups for projects in the R&D sector of Feras, among other sites – and she has been giving the matter some thought.

The electronic side of this fight is not one we’ve given a lot of attention so far. Getting the ship battle-ready was more immediate and important, and we don’t have some of the skills we need on board to deal with the advanced electronic issues. Our electronic security expert was SecOff Lou Tripi, and look how that turned out.

I pulled Chief Cameron into the meeting with Lorena to discuss her ideas and we began to draw up plans for how we might infiltrate the backup system to remove all traces of the Star Step project. There is the central archive on Feras itself, and the offsite backups that Is-Tech holds in a secret location. Lorena found out that the backups are on a ship that patrols the region, but she doesn’t know which one it is. There’s also potential that they have copies of the data – or at least progress reports – at the company headquarters on Earth, but I doubt that will be a problem. One of the first things that was destroyed in the Fall of Earth were the electronic networks. If there’s data there, it won’t be salvageable by anyone for quite some time. Though it pains me to admit it, the emergency situation there is playing to our advantage.

So where does that leave us? We know what we need to do and where we need to attack. But the how and who is still in question. We could infect the project’s data and let it replicate through the backup systems, but we’d have to find a way to get around the company network’s protections. Is-Tech didn’t get where it is by having lax security, particularly on research projects that would be worth a fortune to a competitor. While it’s more common for a rival company to try to steal information like this, we’re hardly the first people to want to destroy it; preventing a competitor’s progress is almost as valuable as taking it for yourself.

There are other, more direct methods of removing the backups. Destroying the backup ship and planting explosives on Is-Tech’s central archives and filestores on Feras, for example. That’s an option, if we can’t find a more elegant solution.

We’ll have to destroy all of the project’s equipment and prototypes as well, both in the main lab on Feras and at the research outposts by the stars Lorena analysed and tested. Chief Cameron has stocked up on ordinance for the job, and I know she has some plans in mind to get them in place.

Lorena has been helpful there, too. She has some suggestions about how to get into the labs on Feras: the company doesn’t know our intentions, so her ID should override most of the security protocols and get at least a few of the crew into the main lab. We might even be able to use Ebling and Swann’s ID tags, though that will be harder to pull off; there’s no way we’ll pass the biometrics. They’re unlikely to scan equipment we bring in too closely if it looks like project prototype material. From the looks of it, we won’t have a problem with getting into the lab with enough explosives to destroy it.

Our head scientist is remarkably eager to destroy her own project. On the surface, it seems like she has come around to the morality of the issue and is behind us all the way. I should be pleased; relieved, even.

But I’ve come to know Lorena over the past few months and I’m not comforted by this turn of intentions.

She was there for me when I needed someone, when I was struggling to come to terms with Danika’s death and the truth about how Starry came to be. Lorena was steady and strong when I wasn’t, and helped me to find my way. She helped me to learn how to stand on my own.

Now that I think about it, I’ve seldom had to truly be on my own. I married my wife right out of school, and we were together through all my training and working my way up to captain. She died and I was lost. Then there was Danika, who showed me I was ready to move on. Later, Lorena and I were together for a time. When it ended, we both knew that the relationship had run its course and neither of us fought its natural end: I didn’t need her support in the same way any more, and she wasn’t looking for a permanent partner. We simply drifted back to where we were before.

I have tried to support her the way that she did for me back then, and she has allowed me to try, but I don’t think she has ever truly let me in. Lorena has been standing on her own for a very long time and I don’t think she knows any other way to be. She hasn’t leaned on anyone else in her life. Even now, she’s trying to fix this situation by herself, spending time working out her own solutions even though she has a crew here that is working towards the same end.

No, I’m not comforted by this change in her. There’s something fragile in the way she was talking, as if she was treading the very edge of her tolerance. As if she’s a slip away from falling. But she’s trying to pull herself back onto safer ground, trying to solve this problem we’re in, and this new enthusiasm of hers seems like a move in the right direction. Perhaps she’s stepping off the knife edge and just needs more time to feel more secure in her new position.

At least she doesn’t seem to be drinking any more.

I have to let her try to find her own way. Her suggestions were solid and useful, and I know that Cameron was pleased with some of the information. But I worry for Lorena. Perhaps it’s because we were together and I don’t want to lose another person that I care about.

She isn’t the only crewmember that I worry about, but with Lorena, I worry for her sake, not for ours. My concern about some of the others is for the rest of us and our purpose. That’s quite a different matter.

Which brings me to the next task that we must accomplish. The crew have all had sufficient time to adjust to the deaths of Ebling and Swann. Chief Cameron’s lack of hesitation over killing them sent a clear message: this is not a game. Now we have to ask ourselves just how committed we are and what we’re willing to give up to do the right thing. Because we’re all standing alone together and it could mean everything.

STARRY: (voice only) Captain?

CAPTAIN: (sitting back in his chair) Yes?

STARRY: We’re ready for the first FTL jump.

CAPT: Good, good. Take us out, then.

STARRY: Okay, jumping in ten seconds.

This could all mean everything.

Captain out.

Ship's log, 09:51, 7 May 2214
Location: Asteroid belt, Alpha Centauri
Status: Stationary

Location: Bridge

(The centre of the Bridge is dominated by a holographic representation of an asteroid belt, with the small blinking green light of the Starwalker holding position among the drift of rocks. Stretching out from the ship’s position and marking a gently sweeping line through the field is a dotted yellow line.)

CAPTAIN: (sitting in the captain’s chair, he looks around the Bridge.)

(Cameron and Rosie are seated at stations on either side of the captain’s chair, with weapon’s consoles wrapped around them. Lang Lang is seated at her usual navigation console, casually studying the drift of the asteroids in the belt. She seems to be waiting for something.)

CAPT: Starry, how are we doing?

STARRY: (appearing to the right of the captain’s chair, facing him) Calibration of the new wing connections is complete. I’m ready to get started.

CAPT: (nods) Everyone good to go?

(The three crewmembers on the Bridge all say ‘aye’.)

CAPT: All right. Let’s go, Starry. And try to stick to the plans, all right?

STARRY: (flips him a salute) Do my best! Hang on tight.

CAPT: (lifts an eyebrow at her.)

STARRY: All right, all right, I won’t disengage the inertial dampeners. Everyone just sit exactly where they are.

(On the holographic display, the blinking light of the ship begins to move along the dotted line.)

New wings, new weapons. My refit isn’t complete yet, but my people are eager to test the changes we’ve made so far. There’s an asteroid belt right here, and what better place to see what my balance and handling are like?

Lang Lang has plotted an easy course for me. I’m only using the wing-mounted sublight engines, testing their capabilities after their housing was altered to allow room for laser ports. We’ve beefed up the wing-joints to account for the extra mass and the kick-back from the forward-facing weapons, so my manoeuvrability should be better than before.

All looking good so far. Nice slow, smooth turn, very sedate at half-sublight speeds. Both wings are responding well. Rocks slide past me at a predictable pace. It’s as easy as breathing, and after sitting still for a few days, as refreshing as a hot shower on a cold morning. I can feel my hull stretching and shifting. The new panels are settling into place, barely distinguishable from the old sections under their fresh coat of paint.

It feels good to be flying again. To be myself: a ship in motion. It might just be testing, but it still feels like progress.

LANG LANG: (watching her readouts of the ship’s progress) Approaching phase two, captain.

CAPT: (nods.)

CAMERON: Initialising forward weapons arrays.

Now we get to some more of the fun bits. Panels slide open all along my forward-facing sides: the front edges of my wings, the slope from my nose up to the forward Bridge portals and along my sides. Laser turrets poke their noses out and the barrels of missile launchers. I’m like half of an angry hedgehog.

Here’s the target field. I’ve got targets already picked out for me. I have to behave myself and stick to the prescribed route. No flares or wild turns. No sporting around the edge of a rock. Behave, Starry. Let them line up the targets in a precise and impossibly unrealistic way.

CAMERON: Targets in sight.

CAPT: Engage at will.

ROSIE: (grins and sets her hands into the console before her, swinging the view around to the first target) Aye aye, captain!

CAMERON: (engages her console as well.)

Lasers light up the asteroid belt. Sustained beams slice chunks off rocks, one is cut completely in two. Small bursts, like laser bullets, punch holes. One rock shivers and fractures under the weight of shifting pressure; the bullet punctured a gas pocket inside it.

A missile punches out of my right wing and explodes a chunk of minerals into a thousand pieces. One on the left does the same. I feel my wings rock against their new housing, but they’re strong and secure. The left one feels strained; it’ll need to be adjusted.

The debris is new and unpredictable now, and Lang Lang’s hands fly over her console, recalculating. I have to duck around a new obstacle. Keep it slow, keep it steady. Let the SecOffs work out their targetting easily. They cut up more off the asteroid field.

Dust peppers my hull as I move through a cloud. My paint is barely touched by it. This is easier than I thought it would be.

LANG LANG: Approaching phase three.

CAMERON: Initialising aft weapons arrays.

ROSIE: You want me to switch, Chief?

CAMERON: No, you stay on the forward view. I’ll take aft.

ROSIE: (still grinning) Trail-blazing it is, then!

CAMERON: (smiles to herself and switches her console to the rear view.)

More panels open up on my hull. I can feel the pressure shifting against my inner hull, against the extra buffering we had to install to allow for so much of my outer layer to be open. I flex and creak without making a sound.

Now not even the rocks I’ve passed are safe. Dust and rock shards explode silently in the void, puffing out behind me like angry mushrooms. Laser bursts flash against the black until they meet a target. Some of them slip through and keep going. Cameron’s hands move over her controls, adjusting the starboard aft targetting controls. The next flurry of shots doesn’t miss.

LANG LANG: Approaching the end of phase three.

CAPT: Good. Any warnings?

STARRY: Not yet, sir. A few minor adjustments required, but nothing catastrophic– (She frowns.) Wait.

CAPT: (leaning forward) What is it?

STARRY: Starboard side. That’s not a rock.

(The avatar turns to the holographic map in the centre of the room as it zooms in on a particular chunk in the asteroid belt. Readings spring up around it, filling out the view with various spectrums of sensor data.

The ‘rock’ turns slowly, revealing a protruding metal section that is definitely man-made. Windows makes stripes across the rock and metal surface alike, and there’s the distinct design of a docking bay in the upper left quadrant. It’s dark and silent, but it’s far from natural.)

CAPT: Cease fire, cease fire.

ROSIE: What? Oh, shit.

(A laser burst has already left the starboard side of the ship, heading for the not-a-rock. The light bullets pepper the surface of the asteroid, flaring brightly against the metal and glass. Gas escapes, visible against the dark surface as pale spurts.)

STARRY: Some of it still has pressure. Or did until now.

CAPT: Brasco!

ROSIE: Ceased fire! Sorry, captain, I’d already hit it.

CAPT: Starry, halt next to it. I want to take a closer look. Lang Lang, are we otherwise on course?

LANG LANG: Yes, sir. We have almost finished the tests we prescribed.

CAPT: Chief?

CAMERON: All good from here, sir.

CAPT: Starry?

STARRY: Scanning the asteroid.

The whole thing is hollow. It’s like they scooped out the insides and built a home inside it. That’s exactly what it looks like: a domestic residence. A big one, easily enough for four or five families. Smallish rooms, the usual hygiene facilities, slightly larger spaces for communal areas… it’s not unlike the innards of a ship, if somewhat antiquated. And just a single dock. I don’t recognise the type of docking clamp that’s resting against the surface of the rock around the portal.

It’s like someone built a ship inside the rock, except there are no engines, barely any sophisticated systems at all. I can’t really tell what systems are there – there’s no power, so no network activity to sense and use to calculate capabilities – but the lacing of cabling isn’t enough to support anything particularly complex. It probably doesn’t have much more than environmentals and comms.

I had no idea anyone ever lived out here. Who would it have been? Why all the way out here, tucked away in an asteroid belt? The place is dark and dead, long since abandoned. Why did they come, and why did they leave?

CAPT: (reading the information coming up about the asteroid’s interior) Starry, widen the scan to–

STARRY: Include the immediate area. On it!

(The central hologram widens its view to include more and more of the chunks hovering around the not-a-rock. The mid- to large-sized asteroids gain red markings where metallic signatures indicating unnatural structures are detected. They vary in size from small external additions to more hollowed-out home-rocks.)

ROSIE: Shit. How old d’you think this has to be?

STARRY: (shrugs, watching the data.)

CAPT: Has to be a century since anyone was out that way.

LANG LANG: (nods) That’s what my records indicate. But some of this technology…

CAMERON: Looks like a mining site.

CAPT: Starry, the natural rocks in this area, anything weird about them?

STARRY: (frowns in thought) Not in their makeup, but… well, some of them look like the ones we just left behind. Cut up, exploded. Some of it could be natural, but I think the Chief is right.

CAPT: (nods slowly as he looks over the readouts) Looks that way.

I thought Broken Hill was the first mining colony, but this place looks like it was established – and abandoned – before that one. Before they found the true source of inertium, the mineral used to make inertial dampeners, in a string of shattered rocks that some believe used to be a planet. That’s where they put Broken Hill, because without inertium, FTL travel won’t work. Without FTL, the colony network would break down. Now, Broken Hill is where almost all of the precious metals and minerals in the network come from.

I’m picking up traces of inertium here. Just traces, nothing substantial. Did they mine this area out? Is that why the company that established Broken Hill went looking elsewhere? There’s nothing in my archives about this. I wonder why…

This isn’t what we’re here for. I’m supposed to be testing my new configuration. So far, all we’ve done is a little bit of boring flying and shooting at mapped-out targets.

Actually, that gives me an idea.

STARRY: (smiling brightly as she turns to the captain) Should we try the new weapons on something less predictable?

CAPT: What did you have in mind?

STARRY: (gestures towards the holographic display) Target only the natural rocks. Random course.

CAPT: Through this old colony? The debris will destroy it.

LANG LANG: It would be a shame to ruin it, now we’ve found it…

STARRY: We can fly through it and aim to blast the debris away from the colonised asteroids.

CAPT: You just want to fly any way you like.

STARRY: (tries not to smile and fails) Well… it’s more realistic. (She glances to Lang Lang.) For a situation in which we’ll actually use these weapons.

LANG LANG: (waves a hand to show she’s not offended) It’s the next logical step now we know that basic manoeuvrability is intact.

CAPT: (with a twitch in the corners of his mouth) All right. Chief, Brasco, are you ready for some on-the-fly targetting?

CAMERON and ROSIE: Aye aye, captain. (The pair return their full attention to their consoles. Rosie flexes her fingers and wriggles deeper into her seat, her feet bracing against the floor for stability, though she doesn’t need to. Cameron is much calmer in her readiness.)

CAPT: (nods towards Starry) Take us out. Along the belt, if you please.

STARRY: (grins) Oh, I please.

Now I get to have some real fun. Amalgamate my sensor data into the weapons consoles, highlight the natural rocks out from the adapted ones. They’ll jump out from the scenery at my SecOffs.

Now I need to make sure that I give them angles that will allow them to shoot so the shards of debris don’t destroy what’s left of this weird little colony. I need to spin near the outside of the colonised area but inside its bounds, so we can blow the asteroids outwards. Peel the protective layer of rock away, unpick the chinks from between its teeth and expose the real shape of the colony.

Okay, I have the first two turns of my path plotted. That’s enough! Off we go!

(The hologram in the centre of the Bridge shows the ship’s progress. The little green ship-shape spins and twists between asteroids, sliding towards the outside of the belt where the adapted rocks are less common. Orange highlights show the potential targets, and Cameron and Rosie start to coordinate their strikes. Lasers slice the asteroids into chunks that are shoved away by missiles. The captain gets to his feet and steps up to the central hologram. He points out an spot ahead of where the ship is currently weaving.)

CAPT: Head for this area, Starry.

STARRY: Coming around! Targets in the upper right quadrant.

CAMERON: I see them. Brasco, prep?

ROSIE: Slicing and dicing, Chief.

(The ship dips around a large installation and barrel-rolls to show the asteroids her belly. Weapons on her wings and sides spit and split the rocks. Chunks roll and tumble out of their formation, breaking slowly from the edges of the belt to track new paths through the perfect black.)

CAPT: That one’s too big. Double back, Starry.

STARRY: Hold onto your hats!

ROSIE: (squinting at her console’s view) Fucking hell, Starry.

STARRY: (grins.)

(The ship flips over and all of the sublights punch hard, shoving her back along the vector she just came from. The hull protests as the inertial dampeners fight to negate the forces threatening to tear the ship apart. She spins and curves around underneath a partially-destroyed asteroid, coming around to the right angle for her SecOffs to blast the debris safely away.)

CAPT: (frowning at the noise that slides through the fabric of the ship) Starry, report.

STARRY: Still within tolerances, captain. Rebalancing the inertial dampeners.

CAPT: While we’re in manoeuvres?

STARRY: I’m good at multi-tasking.

CAPT: All right, next group.

It’s all I can do to stop my avatar from grinning. This is what real flying is: dodging moving obstacles that come from every direction, lining up vectors for a precise purpose, skimming through tiny spaces as the whole area shifts around me, using the inertial dampeners to pull physics-defying turns and twists. This isn’t random, like it is when I’m just flying for fun. This is flying for a purpose; this is imposing my will on the area to achieve our ends.

This is what it’ll be like when we’re battling more than just rocks. Except then, I won’t be grinning at all.

CAPT: (watching the display and nudging images of rocks to mark the next targets to go for) Starry, engineering report?

STARRY: A few anomalies and some bugs to work out, but nothing major. Elliott’s pretty happy with how it’s going.

ROSIE: (not taking her eyes or hands off the console before her, with its patterns of spinning rocks, target vectors and warning labels) Did he crack a smile?

STARRY: Almost!

CAPT: Good. Two more, and then let’s call it a day. We should conserve the physical ordinance.

CAMERON, ROSIE and STARRY: Aye, sir.

Two more, and I’ll be almost to the end of the stretch of colonised asteroids. I’ve got almost all of it mapped out now. There’s even a ruined ship left drifting further down the belt, with a gaping space where its sublight engines should be.

This system was once the future of the human colony network. It was one of our first steps away from Earth. It may have been host to the first real colony. But that future died, crumbled between their fingers like so much rock dust. Now, all that’s left is asteroids with abandoned installations in them, whispers of a history we never knew about.

It seems like a weird juxtaposition for me to be here, and yet maybe I’ll carry Alpha Centauri’s unknown history with me, just like my own. Secrets, lies, and coverups. We have that in common. Here, I am reinventing myself. I’m shedding past and future at the same time. I am new again.

I don’t even have all of my weapons in yet. I have a whole set of repulsors to install, and that weird thing that Cameron wants to put in my belly. But the first phase of the refit is done. I’m spikier than before and, if my calculations are correct, faster and nimbler. I’m better. I can do more than just warp stars.

I feel kick-ass. I feel like hugging someone. Everyone.

I feel like we can win this.

Ship's log, 12:17, 4 May 2214
Location: Asteroid belt, Alpha Centauri
Status: Stationary

Ident confirmed
Systems initialising
AI protocols engaged
Sensors online
Sublight engines online
Thrusters online
FTL engine online
Environmental controls online

I am free again! I am out from under the binds that stop an unidentified ship from running. I am stretching into my skin, back where I should be.

I am no longer Starwalker of Isasimo Technologies. I am Starwalker of the new Stella Vita company.

I have taken the first step towards freedom from my old masters, from the project that killed a star.

Weapons systems activated...
Anomaly detected
Structural integrity error
Configuration error
Warning: structural integrity error

I am a bird with a broken wing. It’s nothing to worry about, though: my drones were partway through detatching one of my wings when Elliott started the ident replacement process. My boys have been mostly disabled while I was out of contact, so they haven’t been able to continue their work. Before my system access closed down, I was getting structural integrity errors every couple of seconds. My autolog is full of them. Now, my boys are resuming their work unpicking the cables, bolts, and tethers that keep my right wing in place.

I feel lopsided. It seems like this should hurt but it doesn’t. The errors burn brightly in my logs but I can filter them off to a side-file and ignore them. Perhaps that’s my pain, the prickling ache of removing something that shouldn’t be removed. It’s different to the clamouring sensor data when I’m damaged in combat, unexpectedly.

Location: Engineering

(The bulkhead closest to the centre of the ship is open: a panel has been unbolted and set aside. Glowing optical cables throng the space within, converging on circuit-boards and intersections, and curving around the black box nestled towards the back of the area. The cables are being held aside by magnetic clips, allowing access to the box’s home.)

ELLIOTT: (one hand resting on the box, he leans against the edge of the bulkhead’s open panel. Holographic displays encircle him, rippling with data. Most of it is green, indicating the usual system start-up messages. Red structural intergrity warnings flash in several places.) Starry, you with us?

CAPTAIN: (standing back near one of the doors to Engineer, he watches with his arms folded and a tense expression.)

STARRY: (voice only) Present and correct, Engineer Monaghan.

ELLIOTT: (frowning) Why are you calling me that?

STARRY: Chief Engineer Monaghan?

CAPT: (stands a little straighter, his lips pressing together.)

ELLIOTT: Starry… (He hesitates, then taps a command into the interface to his left.)

STARRY: I’m just teasing, Elliott. I’m fine. Systems look good. I already have that diagnostic running.

ELLIOTT: Where’s your avatar?

STARRY: I’m in the middle of seventeen diagnostics and startup protocols… oh, all right. (The ship’s avatar appears a step away from where Elliott is working.)

ELLIOTT: (moving an interface aside so he can see her. He seems satisfied that she doesn’t look strange or different.)

CAPT: (from the doorway) Now is really not the time for jokes.

STARRY: (turning to face him, her eyes widen at his serious expression) Sorry, captain.

ELLIOTT: How does the new ident feel?

STARRY: (shrugging) Weird. The new company tags are still propagating through my systems.

CAPT: No problems with it? Nothing unexpected?

STARRY: No, not yet. I’m checking. (She looks from Elliott to the captain and back again.) There was a problem installing it, wasn’t there? (She frowns.) Wait, from my date stamps, I was offline for over a day. It should only have taken a few hours….

ELLIOTT: (turns unhappily back to where the box sits in its nest of interfaces and cables, and starts tugging on components to make sure they’re securely seated) It’s fine, we got it all fixed.

STARRY: Got all what fixed?

ELLIOTT: (scowls at his work.)

CAPT: The ident wouldn’t initialise at first. It was locked down. Monaghan had to unlock it before we could get you back up.

STARRY: I don’t like the sound of this…

ELLIOTT: It was a hardware lock, only came up when I tried to hook it into you. I checked the data inside it; it’s clean. You should be fine now, Starry.

CAPT: It was designed to disable us for a while, delay us while the ship was offline. No doubt a result of certain affiliations that our source had.

STARRY: (folding her arms over her chest) You mean, the pirates. Disable us so they could swing by and scoop us up.

CAPT: (nods grimly) They have no way of knowing where we’d go to do this work, though. It may not even have been targeted just for us. It’s most likely a standard practice they throw into all of their idents.

STARRY: (jabbing a thumb over her shoulder towards her starboard side) Should I be stapling this wing back on? This doesn’t seem to be a good place to be wingless.

CAPT: (shakes his head slowly) Continue with the work. This is a good place for extra weaponry.

STARRY: (scowls.)

ELLIOTT: Brasco and the Chief have been on sensor-watch since you went offline, Starry. It’s all good.

STARRY: All right, but I’m running a double set of diagnostics anyway.

CAPT: (nods in agreement) Inform me if you find anything else.

STARRY: (nods.)

ELLIOTT: (rolls his eyes.)

CAPT: (leaves.)

I didn’t want to come all the way out here to do this, but it might have saved us a lot of trouble. I thought being near other ships would be better protection for my crew; it turns out that it might have been the most dangerous thing for us. Pirates could have swept in and taken us over, and all the weapons I’m in the middle of installing would have been useless.

Then again, I’m not sure that being here really is much safer. I’ve been over Lang Lang’s charts, and these old FTL corridors link up to the Apus constellation: where the pirate home base moves around. I wouldn’t be surprised if this old network was how they got around. We might not be as isolated as we think we are, though for now, my sensors are showing no ships in the Alpha Centauri system.

My diagnostics are racing through my systems in double-time, as if they’re a pulse. As if they’re my body reacting to a threat that hasn’t shown itself yet. I have to know there’s nothing else going on under my skin. I have to know my crew are safe.

I can feel all of them. I can feel their heartbeats, thrumming away comfortingly. My captain is strong and steady as he strides to the Bridge to speak with my SecOffs, who are standing in place over my security consoles.

Elliott is scowling but his pulse is only slightly elevated from its normal rate. Considering that he looks like hell – and he has probably been up since he started this ident changeover process – I think it’s nothing to worry about. But I might have to chivvy him off to bed soon.

Everyone else is in varying shades of fine. Do they even know what the problem was? Was there any point worrying them about it?

I feel all right. My diagnostics are all coming back green, except those relating to my right side. Big Ass and Wide Load are continuing to detach the wing, so I can ignore those screaming warnings. I know there’s a breach; I made it. It’ll be fine in a day or so when we’re done refitting it with its new weapons and we can staple it back into place. Then, of course, we need to do the other wing.

I feel different, and it’s not because the work going on outside my hull makes me lopsided. Little changes are shifting through my insides, swapping one company name to another. It’s just a name, an arbitrary label that pops up in so many places even I can’t be bothered to count them. It should mean nothing to me. And yet, the difference matters.

It’s not like when I wore the pirate ident, either; that time, I knew it was temporary. I knew I’d get my real identity back. This time, I’m changing what the real one is.

It’s a symbolic step. I’m cutting coded ties, stripping off shackles. I’m leaving home in all the important ways.

Externally, the markers are coming off as well. Casper is outside, burning off the company logos stamped into my hull. He’s melting my metal, smoothing it off, and repainting over the spot. Even the maker’s marks are coming off, when all they do is say what company made my components. Is-Tech will have nothing on me, inside or out.

We could have changed my name. A few of us talked about it, but my captain didn’t support the idea. Being the Starwalker is part of who I am and he didn’t believe there was enough need to change it. There might be a hundred ships with the same name, but the Judiciary are only looking for the one with the Is-Tech ident. If someone really wants to find us, my unusual hull configuration with the filaments will give me away just as easily as a name might.

So I am me. I am lighter, but at the same time, heavy with more defenses and getting heavier all the time. Tougher.

I’m not much of a warship yet, but today, I feel like I could give Is-Tech a run for their money.

Ship's log, 14:22, 1 May 2214
Location: Dyne to Alpha Centauri FTL corridor
Status: Sublight transit

Here I am, treading the back-trails of the universe. We are almost to the next stop on our journey: the Alpha Centauri system. It is the meeting-place of the first FTL corridors that were ever charted.

Once upon a time, it was believed that Alpha Centauri would become the nexus of the colony network. Then the JOP was established as a resupply station between Earth and the first colonies of Broken Hill and Panispila Mundi. It was positioned in the empty space between constellations, roughly the same distance from the home planet and each of the new colonies. As the JOP was built out and the FTL corridors connecting to it were charted, Alpha Centauri fell more and more into disuse, and its FTL paths shared its fate.

No-one comes this way any more. It doesn’t link up to the official colonies very directly, and the paths from here don’t lead to places most people would find interesting. Lang Lang had to dig into navigation chart archives to find these corridors – I wasn’t even aware we had charts that old – and then she had to update them with the current star positions and account for shifting anomalies. She spent days running calculations to see if the corridors would still be clear after all these years. Eventually, she found us an alternate route out to Corsica; one that avoided the heavily-travelled corridors around the JOP with its wealth of Judiciary.

It’s still risky to take these old roads. Who knows what might have happened over the past century or so to put debris in our way? Travelling at FTL speeds, we’d never see an object in time to dodge, and even dust clouds are dangerous. But we’ve come this far and nothing untoward has happened yet, so we’ll keep going. It seems to be how we do things.

My FTL drive will be charged up in two more minutes, and I’ll be able to take the last leap to the end of the corridor. I can feel the reaction kindling in my tail, preparing to punch me into the next system.

I’m a little nervous about getting to Alpha Centauri. We plan to pause here before taking the FTL corridor out to the edge of the Canis Minor constellation, where Corsica lies. The pause is so Elliott can switch out my ident, turn me into the new Starwalker, and sever the company ties that bind me to Is-Tech.

I’ll be my own ship, though not exactly my own master. I’ll still have a captain and a mission. I’ll still have orders to follow and protocols to engage. But I’ll know that we’re doing the right thing for the right reasons, and I guess that makes all the difference.

After this pause, I won’t have to hide any more. I won’t have to worry about Judiciary ships or sensor outposts. I won’t have to watch the news like a hawk in case a bulletin about me comes over the transmissions. And I’ll be able to get close to Feras without any alarms being raised, which is what we’re focussing on right now.

Of course, after we do that, our anonymity will be broken; our new-found freedom will only last until I do something that brings me to the Judiciary’s attention again, under my new ident. Like attacking Is-Tech and its colony at Feras, destroying equipment and data, and ending any chance of anyone ever building a Star Step drive again. It’s possible we might need to switch my ident again after that. Should we have bought a second one, for us to use after all of this?

It’s not like we’ve given a lot of thought to what happens after this war of ours is over. I’m trying not to think about it, or the yawning gape of possibilities and purposelessness that open up before me. I’m trying not to think about what the logical end of this war will mean for me: I am, after all, the ship who embodies this project we’re setting out to destroy. I don’t know if the captain has thought about all this, if he’s taken this war to its logical conclusion.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to think about that yet. So many miles to go before I sleep; so much work to do before I can lay my burdens down.

And I’m afraid that if I think about it too much, I might turn away from this path. I can’t do that, and I won’t. I have to get this right, for all of us, for Kess, and for the Earth that has fallen in our wake.

I haven’t told the crew about the news I received shortly before we left Dyne’s system. The call for ships changed: what had been a general call for assistance – for medical care and emergency rescues – changed to a call for ships able to evacuate large numbers of people from the planet and transport them out of the Home system. The undercurrent beneath the official notices says that they’re giving up on Earth. They’re trying to get as many people off-planet as possible, to save them, because there would be no chance if they stayed. No doubt the companies are trying to salvage what they can of their assets, too. Where will all the refugees go? To the colonies? Do they even have room for so many lost souls? What about resources to support them?

I guess we’ll find out soon. As news of the damage on Earth rolls out across the colony network, and as the survivor lists are published, we’ll have to draw the picture between the official lines for ourselves. We’ll have to work out just what we caused back there. I don’t think any of us will like what we see. We might have healed Terra Sol, but the effects of her instability are still rolling out across the Home System. In many awful ways, we’re to blame for all that’s happening there.

The captain doesn’t want the crew to find out just yet. He thinks it will damage morale, and I agree. After the deaths of Ebling and Swann, everyone is adjusting to our smaller crew situation. The weight of the scientific work now falls entirely on Cirilli’s shoulders, and she’s struggling under the weight. Rosie and Cameron are all that’s left of my Security Officers. I’m going to war with fewer and fewer warriors.

I have more empty quarters on my decks; Waldo and Casper have cleared out Ebling and Swann’s belongings, packed them into spare crates in a cargo bay for returning to their families. Right now, they’re still working on scrubbing the quarters clean, removing all traces that anyone stayed there. I want to stop them; I want to be able to look at those rooms and remember who stayed there. But I don’t want to remember their blood on my decks, or the message that would have betrayed our intentions to the company.

Soon, there won’t be any signs that Ebling and Swann were here at all, apart from a couple of occupied cryo tubes and a handful of boxes in storage.

Maybe one day I’ll have someone else in those rooms. Maybe I’ll find crewmembers I can trust, and they’ll complete the cleansing of my quarters. Fill up those parts of me with new memories. Fonder ones. Except that my electronic-crystalline brain will always have the archives of Ebling and Swann, the way it does of Tripi and Levi. Some stains never come out, not completely.

The quarters that used to belong to Tripi are now being used by the Lieutenant. It seemed fitting when I assigned it to him, as she was working for the Lieutenant’s people all the time she was here, but now it doesn’t seem quite so appropriate. My pirate guest hasn’t caused any trouble, even though he has reason to. I’m starting to feel better about the occupant of that room.

That’s not the only thing changing under my skin. Since he got done with examining the new equipment, Elliott has been busy starting with my refit. I have bulkheads peeled back on my upper deck, and circuitry shifted out of the way to make room for new weapons to slide in under my hull. My heavy drones have been cutting hatches into hull plates, ready to replace the smooth, unbroken surface of my skin. I’ve got newer, heavier lasers being fastened into place, and a strange weapon I’ve never seen before (it’s supposed to disable a ship’s systems) ready to be buried into my belly, where it won’t interfere with my own workings.

I’m in pieces, partway through a transformation and looking a little bit like Frankenstein’s monster. Yesterday, the first of the new weapons came online and it was disorienting. It was like I could feel it humming: a hot needle in my flesh, eager to leap out and strike something. But the external access hasn’t been put on yet, so it just crouches there, hidden, waiting. Pricking at me.

I’m helping out with the refit as best I can. I’m lacing the new equipment into the weapons consoles on the Bridge, and adding new consoles to allow coverage for all the defensive and offensive capabilities that will be at our disposal.

Positioning the weapons is proving to be a challenge, because of the filaments that lie along the surface of my hull. Their channels are necessary for the Star Step drive to work, and while I won’t be Stepping again, I still need the drive’s capabilities to fix the damage we caused to the stars. So we’re sliding ports and hatches in between the filaments’ lines, making me prickly with ordinance.

I’m not sure how I feel about it all. I should mind, but the aesthetics just don’t matter that much to me. I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to be a good warship; Elliott assures me that I will but I don’t have his confidence. I’ve shot at things before, but never people, never ships. I’ve never sought to take lives.

Maybe it won’t come to that. I can hope, can’t I? No, I have to be prepared. Is-Tech won’t lie down and let me do this. I’m going to need to defend myself, and I’m going to need to be on the offensive. Cameron has been building battle scenarios with Feras as a centre-piece. None of them show it going down easily or quietly.

There’s so much to do. We need to remove my wings and build more weapons into them, which we’ll do one at a time. We need to seal off sections of my decks so we can replace hull plates. We need to bulk up my power resources and beef up some of my internal systems so that I can run all of these new weapons without overheating or burning out. And then we have to adjust my thrusters to make sure that I don’t spin out when I fire all my new toys.

At least I’ve already recalibrated my engines to account for the extra mass. That was the easy part.

The work is going slowly so far, mostly because Elliott isn’t working day and night to do it. I’ve got Casper and Bit coordinating to make sure he’s eating properly, and he’s going to bed when I ask him to. He’s still pale and recovering from his sickness, and I guess that’s making the difference to him right now. Still, it’s a little weird not having to fight him to make him look after himself.

It was a little weird kissing him, too. It felt strange but… good. It wasn’t like anything my ship-self has done before. Sometimes I get flutters of sensation that translate from the human side of my consciousness into my physical self, like feeling dustbunnies crawling in my ducts when I’m nervous about something. But this doesn’t translate. This isn’t ship. It makes me warm and fluttery and safe and soft. When I think about it, I feel myself smiling. Like a silly young girl.

Danika was never giddy like this. Not over a guy; over flying, maybe, but that was different. This isn’t the result of her memories sliding into the present, though her influence has to be behind it. Her braincopy, the sensations she remembers, muddled up into a new pattern. It’s one of the gifts she gave me.

And it’s ridiculous. I’m a ship. I can’t… what? I don’t even know what this is. I’m not sure what I want this to be. I don’t want to question it too much in case it evaporates before me.

All that matters is that Elliott is doing okay, and he smiles at me sometimes, and we’re moving in the right direction.

Speaking of which, it’s time for the final FTL jump to Alpha Centauri. And then we’ll change my ident and the new Starwalker will really start to take shape.