Location: Hyperspace
Vessel: Mastodon, Deep Recon Cruiser
Date: March 20 2728 — Standard Earth Calendar (SEC)
It was a ritual. A ritual I followed each and every time, before our deep space recon cruiser—The Mastodon—had exited Hyperspace.
It didn't matter if the destination was green, yellow, or, like this time, a grey star system. Each and every time, a few hours before exit time, I would plug myself into the mixer, but instead of running the flight simulation, I would just run.
Today was no different.
Running through what seemed to be an old trail between towering sequoias, with sun rays of evening light penetrating the heavy canopy, and a gentle breeze on my skin, I counted my breath in my head.
Breathe in—one, two. Breathe out—one, two, three.
While keeping a steady pace, right on the edge between a casual jog and an intense run, I was all but back in the mission room, receiving my orders.
—
"Two weeks ago, we lost contact with 'The Crow' deep space recon cruiser. They were on a reconnaissance mission in sector Z-190, stellar system N-10978, when they received new orders to proceed toward stellar system N-9788a8. Based on their final report, they planned to go around the Two Eagle Nebula using this hyperspace route," said Captain Naome, projecting a star map over the mission deck.
He was a tall, dark-skinned man with piercing blue eyes and an athletic body wrapped in a navy uniform—the top one on the unofficial "I would fuck him" list on our cruiser.
"Our mission is to follow the same route and either find The Crow or any trace of its passage through the systems. Simple enough," said Captain Naome, pausing to look at each officer, "if not for the intel I received unofficially. Three weeks ago, we lost another recon frigate in the same sector."
I looked across the deck at Lt. Commander Simpson—my eternal rival since the Naval Space Academy—and met the same heavy look in his eyes.
We both graduated from the Academy and were commissioned to serve on The Mastadon as the best of the best in our year.
Back then, in my Academy years, I honestly hated him for all his attempts to date me, for refusing to hear my "no", and for believing that I would fall for his handsome face.
To be fair, his belief was not unfounded. He was attractive in many ways, with his tall, well-built frame, blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, which loudly spoke of his Scandinavian roots.
Many girls in the academy were ready to warm his bed in a heartbeat, but not me.
Three years had passed since then. We had both been promoted to Squadron Leaders after a heavy but short battle, now called the Red Stars Conflict—the flashpoint between our Independent Systems Alliance and the Corporate State Union.
But back then, it had started like any other recon mission, no different from this one.
"In two days, we will exit hyperspace in the system N-9777 to proceed with our mission," said Captain Naome, and his words were followed by visual and sound alerts in my ARC.
"Effective immediately, we are at RG-1. Follow your orders, officers. Dismissed," the Captain said, turning and leaving the mission room first.
—
"Kat, it's time," said my invisible companion, the ARC AI.
"Thanks, Lola," I replied, slowing to a stop and summoning the exit screen before me.
Ignoring my exercise stats on the floating in the air screen, I pushed the "exit" button, and the artificial reality faded out, revealing the inner chamber of the mixer.
With a barely noticeable whir from the servo actuators, the mixer opened up, and I stepped out, glancing around.
Normally, the mixer deck was packed with SAT personnel, but this close to the exit into normal space, it was empty.
With no one around and all the capsules empty and in standby mode, it felt deserted—as if I were the only one on board the vessel.
Shivering in the cooled air, I hurried into the equally deserted changing room, already starting to undress before the door slid shut behind me.
Not that I was prude about being naked—no one in the navy was—but the absence of sneaky glances at my bare ass was a welcome change.
Dropping my clothes on the floor, I stepped into the shower—one of the best features on our vessel after the flight deck—and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature and mode through the pop-up AR screen in front of me.
The storm rain—my favourite setting—began to bombard my body, and, closing my eyes, I tilted my face up, letting the heavy droplets massage my exposed face and chest.
Involuntarily, my mind drifted back a few years, to the first time I followed this ritual, right before our exit into what would later be called the Red Stars system.
Back then, I was still a regular squad fighter, with only a couple of years under my belt. I had a bad feeling that day, and to steady myself, I decided to spend a few hours in the mixer for a standard training cycle.
It was also the first time my ARC AI "acted up", swapping the training program for a forest run—it helped me back then, and I survived after.
There was only one problem—I had a very bad feeling today.
"Lola, mirror, please," I said, turning around to the shower door.
The door turned into a mirror the same moment I looked at it, reflecting my body back at me—just over a meter and a half tall, slim, but with well-defined muscles under pale skin, and hips that always drew more stares than my breasts.
Not that there was much to stare at.
In the reflection, my breasts suddenly began to swell to an absurd size, nearly hiding my hairless pubic zone in the process.
"Only today, only five thousand credits—implants the size you really want," my mischievous companion chipped in, brightening my mood again.
"Thanks, Lola," I said, smiling at my reflection, which smiled back and flicked my wet silver hair—a common mutation among the people of the Ladoga planet—styled in a pixie cut.
"You look dashing, darling," she replied with a wink.
She was a quirky AI like that, and I loved her the way she was.
By protocol, I should have wiped her out a long time ago, reporting a malfunction, but I couldn't do it—she was the closest friend I ever had.
My eyes fell to the necklace hanging between my breasts—my first-ever gift to her, bought when I realised I could lose her if my ARC ever failed.
It didn't look like anything special—just pink-silver on the outside with a simple engraving and a few small diamonds in the middle—but it was made from a mineral-based material, Aetherium, that was impossible to scan through and most often used in hyperspace engines to fold space and enable faster-than-light travel through subspace.
Inside, beneath the flashy surface, sat an A-grade AI core I had bought on the black market, containing a full copy of Lola, just in case my ARC was ever wiped without my consent or control.
Shaking off the moody thoughts, I switched the shower cabin to drying mode—I was on a tight schedule, and I had better check my bird once more before we dropped into normal space.