Deep within the Agni’s shielded core, weightless in biochemical-stabilizing gel, Vice Admiral Lanis Osgell attempts to steady herself.

  It isn’t easy, even with Ether alongside her.

  First, there’s the overwhelming mental exhaustion: despite more than two years of training and enhancements, nothing could have fully prepared her to re-enter the Warp, let alone at the head of nine ships, each with their own set of dual Navigators; the image of a mother duck, frantically counting and re-counting her ducklings through an ocean-sprayed storm, comes to mind.

  There will be time to debrief what went right and wrong later, but for now it’s enough that they have done it, and apparently without some catastrophic failure. Each ship’s set of Navigators have reported to the Agni upon re-entering realspace, each with their own mix of elation, fear, and exhaustion, the ship system AIs nervously cross-examining one another for any trace of Warp-affiliated corruption.

  But then they see what awaits them on the other side of the jump. The elation fades, replaced by horror.

  Lanis numbly absorbs the reports from Scoria, a bystander now that her essential duty is done. It’s Admiral Atsuya’s turn now, along with the primary Agni ship AI, to deal with the unfolding situation.

  There was always this possibility, and she supposes it could be worse; the colony could, after all, already be dead. But somehow seeing the colony still fighting for its life, still clinging tooth and nail like a bullet-ridden dog as the Bellitran League sickly toys with it, is worse. Much worse. Lanis holds her face in her hands in the Navigation pod, momentarily withdrawing her mind from its interface with the Agni and the data that it shares.

  We came as fast as we could, Ether says, not flinching from the data, trying to comfort them both. This isn’t on us; or anyone. We had to rebuild. We had to prepare. Not just for the jump, but for something like that.

  As Ether thinks, Lanis dully notes that a new conversation is taking place, this one between the Agni, itself an integrated extension of Admiral Atsuya, and the Trixilii Admiral of the Bellitran armada. She pushes aside her grief, and watches.

  Lanis is no expert on xenobiology, but the Trixilii admiral appears to be extremely agitated: its alien plumage is ruffled, and its colors ripple, from purple to green to orange: a Trixilii defense mechanism, highly unusual to observe in an Bellitran-trained Admiral, Ether helpfully supplies, drawing upon Fleet intelligence archives: within the Bellitran League’s hierarchy of races, the Trixilii are among the highest, feted for their intellect, flock-like coordination, and abilities in three-dimensional combat, a legacy of their sky-born heritage.

  Ether brings up the read-out of the opposing Bellitran League Fleet, trying to re-focus Lanis on the existential issue at hand rather than what has already occurred: the opposing fleet is twelve ships in total, eight of which are Trixilii, including three heavy-cruiser-equivalent Harbingers. The other four, two planetary assault ships and two smaller support ships, appear to be Gorian in nature, and these hover directly above the ruined colony.

  Lanis can vaguely see other forms moving behind the alien admiral as it speaks to Atsuya, the frantic activity of the Trixilii ship’s command bridge occasionally interposing itself into the ‘casted transmission. Despite the Agni’s own wish for revenge, a feeling which Lanis fully supports, the ship is vainly trying to reason with the Trixilii.

  “Further destruction serves no purpose, Admiral. There is a far greater threat, one that concerns us all! Negotiations are needed—power down your weapons; stand down Admiral—your ships are outclassed, don’t you understand?” the Agni says, its tone increasing in force. Lanis can make out a series of high-pitched whistles and squeaks from the other side of the ‘cast, translated into a lurching monotone that she imagines does not quite capture the Trixilii admiral's mood:

  “How—where did you come from, land-spawn worm of excrement? You must think me stupid, idiot Human. Me, stand down? I, who have talon-torn an Ursox wyrm? I, who have flag-planted on four worlds? And beside this, I am not at liberty—only a high-noble Bellitran may give that order, and you are not worthy to speak to my Great One. My—” here the translation struggles, providing emperor, god, and defiler as possibilities, “—does not deign to parlay with defeated races. It is you who must submit, or be slain by my talon, worm meat for my beak!” the alien screeches, its unblinking eyes widening as it sways back and forth.

  “Admiral, no, do not—shit,” the Agni says, though now it’s Admiral Atsuya’s human voice that Lanis hears, rather than the stern overlay of the ship’s AI.

  “Admiral Atsuya to all ships, prepare for engagement!” her Admiral shouts, or rather thinks, the order blasted as fast as light.

  Lanis feels the fleet’s AI battle-comms link up, shifting tactics simulations blooming between the ships, with the Agni and Atsuya taking the lead; the ships’ battle-bridges lock down, and the blue and white uniforms of the two-thousand strong crew of the Agni turn a new shade of ochre beneath emergency lighting.

  Lanis and Ether watch as the ships’ deflector shields shimmer into a more hardened being, and even in her pod Lanis feels the vaguest tug at her body as the Agni’s massive fusion core flares, the need for diplomatic discretion now discarded like a bride’s white veil: point-defense lancers become hot; mass drivers the size of office towers pivot in the roaring silence of space, and sharp-nosed objects begin to disgorge from beneath the capital ship’s underbelly.

  Beside her, inside of her, Lanis feels Ether partake in the indefinable AI equivalent of stuffing popcorn into her mouth. They and the other Navigators, exhausted as they are, can only bear witness to what is unfolding, and Ether seems to be fully embracing her new role, though she does offer the occasional aside of what she might be doing better were it her instead of the purpose-built Agni Fleet AI who was in charge.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Scoria is ruined. Their untested fleet could be defeated, despite the new technologies that have been integrated into their ships, of which the Bellitran fleet has no idea. But still, though Ether tries not to be unseemly, a wide-eyed thought bubbles to the surface:

  Our first Fleet battle! Aren’t you excited?

  Mass drivers spit forth hyper-accelerated rounds into the gulf between the fleets. Point-defense lancers streak, and missiles implode in blinding flashes; deflector shields glitter, bend, and then fold, crushed beneath the weight of capital-ship firepower.

  Admiral Atsuya, ensconced in his commander pod beneath the Agni’s command bridge like a sepulcher-bound pharaoh, directs the dance of death alongside the Agni's AI.

  Impact. Shields holding. Missile launch. Drone detonation. Enemy ship disabled. Lead-ship Heracles reporting concentrated impact. Enemy ship destroyed.

  The stream of integration-level data, faster than Atsuya’s conscious mind can fully grasp, subsumes him. His command is his very existence, a series of sensations and emotions: the tremor of the ship’s mass drivers is a heat across his fists, the whine of capacitors building for another volley a tightening in his chest, and the Bellitran fleet’s answering salvos a series of pinpricks against his back.

  Above him, his interfaced crew work alongside the Agni, helping to not only direct missiles and point-defense power consumption, but also to monitor their captain and the ship’s AI. It’s rare, but not unheard-of, for the sensory overload of battle to cause a psychotic break in the commanding officer, or for the ship AI itself to enter a “spiral,” a recursive ego collapse of self-examination. Atsuya and the Agni help to tether each other against these risks, but neither has led an armada before, let alone been in an engagement like this. He wishes, not for the first time, that a proper admiral was in command, someone like Captain Raine, who once commanded this ship before her brain was torn apart.

  You are a proper admiral, a minuscule portion of the Agni says, stiffening his spine. Atsuya’s lips curl, unaware that the thought had been shared. But there’s no hiding anything from the Agni, not while integrated, and certainly not in the heat of battle.

  They’re doing well. Damn well. The Agni wasn’t exaggerating when it said that they outclassed the Bellitran fleet, but the Trixilii admiral might have at least expected one kill by now, especially given how green the vast majority of Terra Fleet’s crews are—though the Trixilii wouldn’t know that. After all, sim training will only get you so far.

  Instead, another Harbinger begins to list, engines flickering, before it slowly splits apart in a crescendo of silent explosions. Outside of the three Harbingers, only a single kilometer-long Trixilii destroyer remains half operational, and Atsuya watches with satisfaction as one, two, three missiles evade its defenses, impacting along its starboard side in a kaleidoscope of death-colors.

  Enemy ship destroyed.

  The Agni again attempts to hail the Trixilii admiral’s ship, but there is no response. I want that ship disabled, if we can, Atsuya thinks, and he receives confirmation from his sister ships. He watches the Gorian ships as they try to evacuate their troops from Scoria; watches one of the blunt-nosed planetary assault ships begin to move away, attempting a mad dash to reach a gravitationally stable point, away from Scoria’s gas giant of Calder, for a Warp jump.

  Don’t think so. It won’t have time. Terra Fleet’s destroyers unleash another salvo of missiles and begin a high-burn toward Scoria.

  Atsuya feels a flicker of amusement as the Gorian ship attempts a jump anyway, far, far too close to the gas giant’s gravity well. Instead of folding, the space around the Gorian ship simply crumples, taking the ship with it in a dark, rippling explosion.

  Could you have made that jump? The thought is directed at the Agni’s navigator, Vice-Admiral Lanis, and Atsuya can feel her debating the idea with her AI.

  Probably not. But under duress? Maybe, is the answer he receives from Lanis. He smiles: bleeding through the answer is an undercurrent of YES, spoken by her AI, Ether.

  Ether is an odd thing, having not originated with Fleet, but rather a planetary corp, and Atsuya knows that the Agni finds it—or rather, her— slightly grating at times. Too young, was the Agni’s only response when Atsuya pressed it for what exactly its issue was with Ether. Of course, left unsaid was the fact that this iteration of the Agni is itself less than three years old. But I’m of old Fleet stock, was the Agni’s reply. She shouldn’t be viable; not a corp AI, not at this level.

  But she is. And she and Lanis managed to nearly single-handedly save Terra.

  So, there’s that.

  Atsuya surveys his own ships’ damage reports as the Trixilii flagship begins to drift, lifeless. Heracles, the vanguard ship, has had the worst of it, with a true breach of its hull, and the first reported casualties of the campaign: two dozen weapons specialists instantly incinerated in a plume of molten fire. In any prior engagement this type of lopsided victory, even against a somewhat inferior enemy fleet, would be considered a minor miracle.

  He’d like to take credit for some feat of tactical brilliance, but alas, the truth is simultaneously more mundane and more unbelievable: they owe the scale of their victory at least partially to the alien ship that visited Terra right after the Anomaly’s defeat.

  The “Dwellers" they called themselves. He knows that his Navigator spent nearly four months on their ship; whatever happened up there, it convinced the Dwellers to share some of their advanced technology, including a new type of phase-shifting shielding that is an order of magnitude stronger that their old deflectors.

  Still, they’re by no means invulnerable, as the Heracles proves. Back to Terra for repairs, Atsuya sadly thinks, surveying the extent of Heracles’ damage, wondering how long they will take on Terra’s nascent orbital docks. If the situation at Scoria has proven anything, it’s that they don’t have any time to waste.

  Agni to Carrier Guanyin, Atsuya thinks. Dispatch boarding teams to the Trixilii flagship and then move into position to support Scorian ground forces with ground force deployment.

  He pauses a moment, suddenly wondering how many sentient beings have just died in the past hour. It’s best not to think of such things. Instead, he broadcasts an open-channel message to his ships.

  Well done, Fleet.

  He stares at the drifting Harbinger ship with a strange mix of hate and pity. There will be a Bellitran on there; probably already dead, having committed ritual suicide in its defeat. Fleet never has managed to capture one of the damn monsters alive. Still, they should be able to extract some answers from the ship's data logs, and any aliens that remain alive.

  It's time for some answers.

  by filwi

  They couldn't save their relationship. Now they must save a planet.

  Karem Mtembe is the corporate troubleshooter: part scientist, part economic hatchet man. Natasha Mirovna is the brilliant leader and researcher. Once, they were lovers. Now they’re rivals, forced to work together to protect an extraordinary, newly discovered planet, a planet that might itself be alive.

  To save it, they must outwit the very corporations backing their fragile research colony, but doing so risks reopening old wounds, and awakening old feelings…

  If you love smart mysteries on breathtaking new worlds, and the spark of romance against impossible odds, you'll love the Flowers of Crystal.

  What to expect:

  - Short, complete story arc

  - Smart, proactive characters.

  - Good guys pitted against each other.

  - Research and brains-centered plot.

  - Clean romance.