64 Core Ethos

The Navy frigate carefully maneuvered its way through a dense asteroid field. Although it was small enough to dart around in between them, a single hit would have easily crippled the ship.

It was escorted by a half dozen fighter pilots, all of whom kept their eyes peeled for trouble. After all, within this dense field of rock, their sensors were greatly reduced.

The asteroids themselves barely moved, and those that did typically spun slowly in place. In truth, the largest dangers in an asteroid field were often the things that hid behind them.

Usually it was pirates or creatures. Sometimes, it was worse.

Though they didn’t truly expect any trouble out here, it was better to be prepared than not. Any mistake navigating through this mess would cost them their lives.

The frigate ran into a small rock, which burst and crumbled into pieces before its hefty armor.

It wasn’t long until the small fleet broke the field and entered an open expanse in the center. There, a huge asteroid sat in the very center, unmoving.

One side of the asteroid had a single open hangar bay. Its atmospheric shielding shimmered a light blue.

Around the bay were a handful of metallic domes, all of which were connected by thin tubes that spidered everywhere. Scattered all over the surface were what appeared to be giant maneuvering thrusters.

.....

A handful of patrol drone squadrons roamed the area. Although they were lightly armored, they were heavily armed and highly maneuverable. As a group, they often made short work of any who ended up in their sights.

They were simply another layer of security for this asteroid base. The first being the moat made of asteroids.

The frigate and her escort entered the hangar bay together, but split up soon thereafter.

The hangar inside was relatively spacious. There were a half dozen docking stations, two of which were occupied by Navy frigates. One looked as though it had a standard fitting.

The other had a wholly alien design, and looked like it was an organic machine. The ship contracted and swelled very slightly. As though it breathed.

There were also a number of landing pads. Some had an assortment of fighters, and a few were organic-looking like the frigate. A number of the pads had Navy fighters on them, also equipped with standard loadouts.

The fighter escort landed among them.

Maneuvering thrusters all over the frigate shot out in small bursts as they gently eased into a form-fitted docking collar.

The crew was completely calm as they carefully guided their ship. The locks on both the frigate and collar lined up, reached out, and pulled into each other tightly.

Seals on both sides inflated and locked in the atmosphere. The air between frigate and station gradually intermixed, and cabin pressure normalized. Every air seal held firm, which allowed the docking bay doors to slide open.

Eva, Miko, and Commander Chase stepped out of the frigate and into the asteroid station.

Various military personnel performed their duties as the trio headed further into the hangar itself.

“Hope the ride didn’t take too long,” said Commander Chase.

Although the trip itself only took half a cycle, both Eva and Miko had used most of it to pore over their contract. Which was incredibly large. Certainly much larger than the standard work contracts that the two were used to.

The contracts went into great detail, and discussed the prototype control core that they were there to test. Perhaps more specifically, it listed what they could and couldn’t do with it, what their purpose and goals were, and how much compensation they were to receive.

What was oddly missing was any information on what the prototype itself was, how it worked, or even what it looked like.

Besides that, Eva quickly noted that they had changed the pay from what it used to be. She recalled that they were supposed to get one large chunk at the end, but they shifted it to weekly payouts instead.

There was also a Bonus Payout Clause, but the language there was extra vague. But from what Eva could make of it, if she performed her job with exemplary results, there would be a significant reward for her efforts.

The contract also specified what they could and couldn’t communicate about the project, and to whom. But it boiled down to: talk to no-one except the ones listed in the contract itself. There were only a dozen names total.

Of course the contract wasn’t as cut-and-dry as that. The whole thing was plastered with Federation military legalese, which made the act of deciphering it harder than it needed to be.

Eva supposed that it was designed to be taxing, which is why it took her so long to read it. She had to suffer through it, paragraph by paragraph, clause by clause.

Legalese always made her mind hurt, similar to how Tiamat’s Transcendence affected her. Her brain had clouded up far too quickly, and it took her time to absorb it all.

The difference was when it activated, anything she wanted to know wouldn’t process. This contract behaved the opposite – she could process every single word of it. She just didn’t want to.

Miko was much more diligent, however. She had read through the whole thing line by line, and carefully thought them through.

Afterwards, she read it a second time to ensure that her first conclusion was the correct one. Most critically, She wanted to make sure she knew all of the project’s limitations and loopholes.

Although they spent most of their time reviewing the contract, they also spent time figuring out how to get around it. Technically, they weren’t allowed their cameras. Showing or discussing their work to others was a serious breach of their agreement.

But they decided to surreptitiously record anyway. They technically weren’t showing a soul in this universe, so they weren’t breaching the contract.

Right?

historical

“Went by in a flash,” Eva answered the Commander. “Say, I noticed the contract said we’re stuck here indefinitely. Almost like lab rats. Is that standard? Or is that your special request, Commander Chase? Just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“Indef- what?!” He exclaimed. “No, er, it’s a cyclical contract, week to week. Hardly indefinite.”

“Week to week without an end date listed,” she countered. “Seems rather perpetual to me.”

“Temporarily without an end date. We hope to be done by the end of the month, which is a little over seven weeks away. And besides, you can refuse the contract at the end of any week.”

“Certainly could do that, if these contracts didn’t auto-renew,” she countered. “Just admit you want me here forever.”

He flushed slightly, then gave her a grin as he led the both of them into a ready room.

“I’m under contract, too,” he muttered.

The room itself was rather spare. Like everywhere else so far, the walls, floors, and ceilings were made of interlocking titanium carbide ceramic plates. Not quite as tough as C-ranked mecha armor, but could take a beating.

The majority of the space was taken up by rows of flight seats. They all faced towards the front wall, on which was a large display. A podium sat off to the side.

At the very front were a couple of pilots. They were casually chatting between themselves, but turned towards the newcomers and greeted them.

Commander Chase had been briefed on all of them, so he introduced the four pilots to each other.

There was Redstar, a former dock worker turned professional racer. On a lark, she took some time off and entered an amateur race that spanned a whole solar system. She had so much raw talent for it that she ended up placing in the finals.

She loved it so much that she gave up her old life and focused everything on becoming a tried-and-true racer. And she had been steadily climbing the ranks the past few years.

It was quite the achievement for someone in her mid-30s. Most racers began their careers in their teens.

The other was Merlin, a dark-haired, dark-skinned pilot. In terms of age, he seemed to be somewhere between Eva and Redstar’s ages.

He had sort of an addictive, magnetic smile that he always wore. He gesticulated often and they got more pronounced the longer he spoke.

From his behavior and appearance, Miko surmised that he was a refugee player. So she quite bluntly asked him to confirm.

“Ah yes, I am,” he replied. “I have been freelancing for some time in order to survive.”

“Are you merely floating around?” Miko asked.

“There is an opportunity I am waiting for – it is too good to pass up.”

“Must be a hell of a job,” said Eva. “Easy hours? Good pay? Excellent dental?”

He laughed heartily at her Earth joke, but shook his head.

“Ah, not so much the job as it is full of danger, I hear. I also hear that the boss is a dream to work for. The openings come few and far between, and they prefer refugee pilots. So I will try for it the moment I am able.”

“You’re gonna tease us with that and not even say who that boss is?”

“Apologies,” he replied. “I cannot. I do not want more competition.”

They laughed heartily.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Miko and I only ever plan to work as freelancers forever. We don’t like the idea of working for anyone but ourselves.”

“I think perhaps even when we are our own bosses, we still must answer to someone else, yes?”

“Apologies for being late, everyone,” a female voice said.

From behind them, a tall, thin, light skinned woman in a stone grey uniform entered the ready room. She walked up to the front while everyone else took a seat.

She took her place at the head, and leaned on the podium.

“I’m Admiral Sara Chase, the commanding officer of this Naval science facility,” she said. “Today, you begin work on Project Prometheus.”

The Admiral had blue eyes, just like her brother. She was also older, but certainly no more than 40.

For her to have reached the rank of admiral before 40 was a massive achievement, without a doubt. Though it wasn’t because she was some sort of tactical or strategic genius.

It was because she was much more focused on something beyond strategy. Something more like humanity’s technological superiority. And that line of thinking earned her a streak of grey in her chestnut hair. She thought it went well with the four platinum stripes on her collar.

This was the job she was going to earn her fifth with.

“And apologies for all of the changes and secrecy,” she continued. “You wouldn’t believe how much has been in the way.”

“I believe it,” said Eva.

“I appreciate it. And I hope you also appreciate that we had to change the original pay rate. Before, we were certain of how long testing would take, but now...”

She trailed off.

“What changed?” Miko asked.

“Let’s just say that there are a few others who want a piece of the pie, or perhaps they just want to see me fail. I don’t know. It’s all the same to me. In any case, they peeled away a quarter of my budget and changed key requirements. And it’s thrown all my calculations into a loop. The bastards.”

“Fucking red tape,” said her brother. “You know why they’re going after you?”

“I don’t even care,” she said. “I just want my prototype to work.”

.....

Her exasperation was beyond evident in her tone. Even her demeanor looked worn.

The Admiral quickly did a few breathing exercises and calmed her body down. It only took a moment, but afterwards, she had leveled off and immediately sharpened.

Eva was impressed.

“Let’s not worry about any of that,” said Admiral Chase. “For now, let’s concentrate on the prototype. I believe that if we can perfect it, it will change the galaxy. Shall we go and see them?”

Her eyes were suddenly aglow with pride.