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—Mastodon—would exit 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 along an old trail between towering sequoias, with evening sunlight penetrating the heavy canopy, and a gentle breeze on my skin, I counted my breath—

  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, deep-space recon cruiser 'The Crow’, executing a reconnaissance mission in sector Z-190, failed to report on schedule. Their final report confirms reassignment to N-9788a8 via hyperspace route TEN-1,” said Captain Naome, projecting a star map with the Two Eagle Nebula 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. There were no orders authorising reassignment to N-9788a8, and we lost another recon frigate in the same sector three weeks ago. Unofficially.”

  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 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. Tall, well-built, blonde. And bright blue eyes, to die for. Many girls in the academy were ready to warm his bed in a heartbeat, but not me. Never me.

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  Five years had passed since then. We had both been promoted to Squadron Leaders after a brief but intense battle, now known as the Red Stars Conflict. One of many between our Independent Systems Alliance and the Corporate State Union.

  “In two days, we will exit in the system N-9777 to proceed with our mission,” said Captain Naome, and my ARC blinked red, receiving my orders.

  “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, pulling me back to the present.

  “Thanks, Lola,” I replied, slowing to a stop and summoning the exit screen before me.

  Ignoring my exercise stats, I pushed the “exit” button, and the artificial reality faded out, revealing the mixer’s inner chamber.

  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 felt deserted, as if I were the only one on board Mastodon.

  Shivering in the cooled air, I hurried into the equally deserted changing room, undressing even before the door slid shut behind me. Not that I was a 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 it through the pop-up AR screen in front of me.

  The storm rain began to bombard my body, and closing my eyes, I tilted my head back, letting the heavy droplets massage my exposed face and chest. Breathing out in relief.

  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 had helped me back then, and I survived after.

  “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 reaching my belly button in the process.

  “Only today, only five thousand credits—implants the size you really want,” my mischievous companion chipped in, brightening my mood.

  “Thanks, Lola,” I said, smiling at my reflection, which smiled back and flicked my wet silver hair 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. She was the closest friend I ever had.

  My eyes fell to the necklace hanging between my breasts. My first-ever gift to her. I bought it 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 beneath the flashy surface, made from Aetherium, sat an A-grade AI core I had bought on the black market. It contained a full copy of Lola, just in case my ARC was ever wiped without my control or consent. Safely hidden.

  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.