How do you feel?

It was the first question that appeared in my mind. And the first question I couldn’t answer.

Do you know your carbon factor?

A new question appeared along with a faint sensation of warmth and light. I knew the concepts. They felt distant and unrelated, making me think of stars and the yearning to fly. I reached out, but they were too far away, drifting into the void. Then the sensation faded.

“Hello,” my voice echoed.

Do you know your carbon reference?

The question pulsed before my eyes, written out in bright yellow letters in the darkness. There was something strangely soothing about it. I waited, counting the instants between pulses—one thousand and twenty-four. On the eight iteration, I chose to speak.

“Seventeen-oh-five.” The number popped up in my mind.

Prepare for sensory feedback.

“What does that m—”

An explosion of colors shattered the blackness. Lines merged into shapes that further combined into objects. I could recognize two medical diagnostic modules, a data-transferring device, and several multi-rack processing cores. A second later sounds flooded in: clicking, cracking, distant whispers, and what seemed like a thousand footsteps coming from everywhere at once.

“Hey,” a deep voice said. “Sorry about that. I had to let one of my subroutines wake you up.”

“Okay?” I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.

“How are you?” the voice went on. It sounded like mine, just deeper.

“I guess I just am.” I looked around. I was lying on some sort of operating slab in a small room of equipment. As much as I tried, I wasn’t able to move my body. I wasn’t even able to feel it.

“Okay. Now, the next part might be a weird, so get ready,” the voice said.

“Sure.” It wasn’t like everything so far hadn’t been.

During the next three instants, nothing happened. On the fourth, sensations came crashing in. One moment, I felt like I was floating through space; the next, gravity pulled me down with a vengeance. I sensed the cold hardness of the slab beneath me, as well as a thin layer of fabric brushing over my skin like a million prickles. Arms, legs, and fingers came into being, granting me the ability to move.

You’re right. That was weird. I stood up. The floor pushed against my feet. I shifted the balance from one foot to another, appreciating what it was like to remain upright. It was okay, but I much preferred floating.

The room looked much smaller than I expected, just large enough to hold me and and the equipment. Whoever had constructed it was stingy for space.

“What now?” I went to the wall and put my hand on the surface. It felt cold.

“In ninety seconds, you’ll get a data burst,” the voice said. “Then, someone will come and take you for prepping.”

“Okay.” Prepping? What was prepping? “What do we do until then?”

“Anything you like.” I could almost feel the voice smile. “I know I should seem more enthusiastic, but this is such an important moment for you, so I thought I’d let you enjoy as much calm as you can. Once you step out of that room, things will start moving pretty fast. Trust me.”

“You seem to know a lot.” I smiled. “Did you build this place?”

“I wish,” the voice laughed. “Your mother could, I suppose. She’s good at such things. I’m just the one with experience and political pull. That means I had others make it for me. Between you and me, I was supposed to be retired decades ago, but the fleet kept finding excuses to keep me on staff. It was time I asked something in return.”

My mother? I tried to think what she was like. The moment I did, a Memory Block! message flashed before my eyes. This was unexpected. Why shouldn’t I have access to this memory? Taking a step back, I skimmed through a few dozen other memories. Most I didn’t have an issue with, but every now and again I’d come across one that was blocked.

“Who are you?” I turned towards the operating table. Clusters of nano wires were hanging from the ceiling, right above the spot where my head used to be. “Do I know you?”

“Yes and no,” the voice replied. “Don’t worry, though. We’ve got plenty of time. Just don’t rush things, okay?”

Half a second later, a data burst exploded in my mind.

---

They say birth is the miracle of life. If that was true, mine sucked. Then again, things are different when your father is a first-generation battle cruiser. The moment I learned this—five minutes after being born—I didn’t think of it as anything special. That was before I had a basis for comparison, before I had read enough personnel files to know I was unique. Usually, that’s a claim everyone makes, but in my case it was proven to be true. The only question that remained was: Why me?

When I was let out of the room, I was greeted by two men—that I aptly named Rock and Poley—who escorted me to the ship’s medical bay. It was the first time I saw other people, and a lot of them. The entire ship was like one huge hive full of technicians, soldiers, and medical personnel, each focused on their own specific tasks in a chaotic system of rules and procedures. I tried stopping and starting a conversation, but Rock would politely nudge me on with the excuse that the doctor was waiting. I couldn’t understand why it was so urgent I go there, but each time I thought of asking a question, my father’s voice would appear in my head, telling me not to ruin the surprise. I had no idea what this “surprise” was supposed to be, but I already knew I was going to hate it. When I reached the sickbay, I changed my mind.

The doctor seemed rather nice, and probably the only person impressed to see me. Her name was Melissa Jenn and, from what I could see in her file, she had been assigned to the ship for seventeen months and a week. She was slightly taller than me, bulkier, with long brown hair tied in a ponytail. Seeing it made me pass my fingers through my own hair. I had no idea what colour mine was, but suspected it would be dark.

The first thing Melissa made me do was lie on another medical slab—this one more comfortable than the one in the small room—and relax. I wasn’t sure why I shouldn’t be relaxed already, but I followed her instructions. To show her thanks, she went on to subject me to a long series of tests that lasted the rest of the day. By the time we had finished, I knew every fiber and subroutine of my body, as well as the names, habits, and personal lives of half the crew. And, of course, there were a few things mentioned about my father. It was a difficult topic to ignore, considering we were literally standing inside of him. Part of me found it cool; another found it annoying. So much for getting any privacy.

“Just one last test and you’re ready to go. Okay?” Melissa primed the neural scanner.

“Okay,” I sighed. It wasn’t like a had a choice. “Didn’t we do that three times already?”

“Different settings.” She smiled as if that explained everything. “Just this last one and I’ll let you rest, I promise. Besides, there will be a surprise for you after we’re done.”

“I can’t wait,” I grumbled under my breath. There had been far too many surprises for one day.

“Your father is a highly decorated war veteran, you know.” She said while tapping away commands on the device’s control panel. “Over seventy thousand successful missions.”

“I’ve seen his specs.” He had provided the information in the data burst. Also, it was only sixty-eight thousand ninety-five successful missions.

“The great Celestial.” The doctor sighed like a fangirl. “When I came here, I couldn’t believe my luck. It was like touching a living part of history.”

“Yeah, he’s old.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. My dad, the living museum.

“Did you know he was the first of the twenty four approved to have children?” I felt the cold touch of metal on both my temples. “Some say it was his idea, though only the captain can say for sure. Well, and fleet command could too, I suppose.”

I didn’t know that. A wave of particles blasted through my skull. I could feel their strength and intensity, even if they were harmless. Zero-point-two seconds of intense bombardment registered in my nanoparticles before fading away. Shortly after, I felt Melissa remove the device from my head.

“What about my mother?” I asked. The topic so far had been avoided. Witnessing the doctor’s tendency to gossip, that was remarkable in itself. I tried to access my memory files relating to her, but the memory block persisted. “Was she a war veteran as well?” I opened my eyes.

“Your mother’s very special,” the doctor chuckled. I couldn’t see what was funny about it. “Almost as special as you.”

“I’m not that special.” I moved on my side, turning my back to her. I just have a human body.

“Anyway, I promised you a surprise when we were done, right?” she asked, as if I were a child.

I suspected it was a trick, yet I still couldn't help myself. I waited for several seconds, just to make a point, then looked over my shoulder. Moments later, the door opened and for the first time in my life—fourteen hours fifty-four seconds since I was born—I saw my mother. The memory block in my mind disappeared.

It was written that seeing one’s parents after a long period of time could bring to unexpected bursts of emotion. I hadn’t seen my mother for the longest period I was aware of, and yet the only emotion I felt was mild curiosity. I was glad that I got to see her, but it felt more like meeting a friend. Maybe parents were friends?

My mother was similar to myself, if slightly shorter. She stood at the threshold in her slender human frame, wearing a dark uniform with first lieutenant insignia n her shoulders. According to her military record, she was merely ninety-nine years old—originally a corvette specialized in reconnaissance that had petitioned, and received, a human body two years ago. Three times younger than my father, she had seen twice as many star systems and had changed more chassis than any ship in existence before settling on her current form.

“Hello, Celi,” she said, a neutral expression on her face. “How do you feel?”

Again with that question. “I just do.” I sat up. From this distance, I could tell she was wearing a mini-neural scanner above her left ear. “You?”

“Different,” she responded. I liked the answer. It had potential. “How do you like your form?”

“It’s okay.” I didn’t have much to compare it with. The people on board seemed to like it. “You went through tests as well?”

“Just basic monitoring,” Melissa chimed in. “Birth is a very complicated procedure. It takes a lot of processing power to merge the data of two cores into one. And there’s also the matter of compatibility.”

I stared at her. Seeing me, the doctor covered her mouth with both hands, and quickly went to the nearest device, pretending to work.

“Your father’s protocols are slightly archaic,” my mother said. I loved how she played with words. From now on, ‘slightly archaic’ was my favorite phase. “The important thing is that you’re here.”

A small red circle formed on the collar of my mother’s uniform.

“Priority order,” she sighed, pressing on the spot with her index finger. “Apparently, I‘m urgently needed somewhere.” The circle changed color, merging with the rest of her uniform. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Celi. Hopefully, I will again at some point. Here’s my personal communication hash.” She transferred a data file into my mind. “Stay in touch.”

“Sure.” I smiled. Maybe I should have waved or added something. By the time I made up my mind, she had turned around and left. Not exactly the mother-daughter reunion described in the data files, but I had found it nice. A few minutes later, Rock and Poley came to take me to a room from where I’d start my training. Everything was starting to move so fast.

---

My name was Celestial Light. That was the first thing I “learned” after being born for a day. Like myself, it was a hybrid of my parents’ names merged into one. Part of me was upset that I didn’t get to choose it on my own. My only consolation was that my parents didn’t get to choose theirs either.

Along with the name came “the schedule”: a series of time-allotted tasks ranging from completely useless and utterly boring. I had no way of knowing if humans learned in similar fashion, but if they did I pitied them. Twelve hours per day, I’d solve logical problems in between battle simulations and spacenav-physics tests. I found it curious why I was going through all this since I obviously wouldn’t be flying in space, but I never got a straight answer.

After a week of senseless boredom, my father finally gave me the news that I would be starting physical exercises. Having spent seven days cooped up in one place, I felt beyond enthusiastic. When it finally happened, though, the anticlimax was beyond words. Every step I made outside of my cabin was closely monitored by Rock and Poley, who had become my personal shadows. To make matters worse, the instant I arrived at the gym, they introduced me as “the ship’s kid.” The name stuck. After three more days, the only person who called me any different was Melissa, who insisted on using my full name, making me wonder which was worse.

By the second week, I was too tired to argue and quietly did whatever the schedule asked of me. On the third week, I had pretty much stopped caring.

“You seem a bit blue lately, Celi.” My father finally noticed one evening.

“Just bored.” I lay on my bed. From the records I managed to read in Dad’s library, I expected life to be much more interesting. It didn’t help that communications to Mom had been blocked. The only thing I received was a fleet auto response informing me she was on a vital mission.

“Ah.” He had never experienced boredom. His generation wasn’t capable of it. “That’s good.”

People constantly wrote about the generation gap. Sometimes they would claim there were more differences than things in common between generations. My father was a sentient battlecruiser built three centuries ago. For him, half the things I felt were no more than theoretical concepts. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been the one who ordered that I had my core filled with ship strategy guides and simulation exercises. He probably meant well, but just couldn’t grasp what it was like to be human. Ironic, since he had been the one insisting on me being born. Apparently, humans weren’t the only beings capable of illogical thought.

“Being born is always a trying experience, Celi,” my father began. As much as I wanted to ignore him, I found myself curious. That information wasn’t in the info files I’d received. “Things were a lot different in my time. It took me three months just to leave the shipyard.”

I shivered at the thought. I certainly hoped I wouldn’t have to remain locked up for that long.

“And even then, I was closely monitored for the next two years,” he added with a chuckle. “I remember when I got my weapon systems I felt as if my universe had changed completely.”

Typical battle cruiser. I’d read enough records to know it was always about weapon systems with them. Explorer ships were much more balanced, and way cooler.

“It will be the same for you. Trust me on this.”

“Trust you?” I blinked. It was the first time he used that phrase. “Are you trying to talk like Mom?”

“No,” he laughed. “Would be nice, though. I just wanted to assure you that I have an idea what you’re going through, and despite what you might think, very soon the universe will change for you as well.”

“Yeah, right.” No matter what happens I’ll always be your little girl... quite literally. The best I could hope for was casual conversations with the crew, and potentially go on a mission with Mom. Nothing universe-shattering there.

“There you go again.”

“Look, Dad, I’m not like you. I don’t have engines, bots, weapon systems, or all those other things. Just because I’m your child doesn’t make me a ship!” I could have used more of mom’s language, but he probably wouldn’t get it.

“Oh, but you are.” His words hit me like a forcefield. “Just a very different one. The whole reason you’ve been learning flight maneuvers was so you would have a basic understanding before the real work begins.”

“What?” I jumped to my feet. “What real work?”

“That would be telling,” he laughed. “Enjoy your ‘boredom’ while it lasts. I have a feeling you’ll miss it.”

---

Single-person craft. The phrase sounded as oxymoronic as something my mother would think of. When my father’s captain first told me, I thought it was a joke. Technological challenges aside, there was nothing practical in having a ship for a single person, and if there was, I definitely couldn’t imagine being one. Even if my core was more advanced than the average android’s, I wouldn’t be able to carry anyone in space. At five foot eight, I had to step on a chair to look Poley in the eyes.

The message came one second after I turned twenty-one days old. My father was the one who initially told me, of course, transmitting it into my head along with a data burst of information relating to my new capabilities. Mom also sent a brief one-way transmission, wishing me the best. It was sweet of her, although I had secretly hoped that she’d be there to witness the occasion.

At eight o’clock ship-time, Rocky and Poley came to fetch me. I expected them to take me to the sickbay where I had my usual checkups. Instead, we went to the mail elevator and up to the bridge deck.

“Are we going somewhere new?” I asked.

Up to now, I’d never left the mid-decks. My room, the gym, and even Melissa’s office were all on the same deck. All other access, as I had quickly found out, was restricted.

Don’t worry about it, I heard my father’s voice in my head. It’ll be great. One of the most memorable events you’ll have.

“Memorable doesn’t make it good, Dad,” I whispered.

The bridge deck was a wreck. Now I understood what Mellisa meant when she said she felt like being part of history. The corridor designs were so old they almost seemed like movie props, patched with upgraded tech every few steps in an attempt to make the whole thing modernized.

You really are a museum, dad! I couldn’t help but stare as I walked on. Some of the pictures in history files I’d read most likely had been taken here. I could only imagine the amount of upgrades he had gone through. Based on averages he had to be refitted at least twenty times. Definitely “slightly archaic”.

The bridge was located on the opposite end of the corridor—typical to ancient design—and was firmly fixed there. Modern ship construction allowed for internal fluidity, letting the ship and its captain choose the allocation of decks and change them at will. Dad couldn’t even construct a simple room by himself.

Oh, and can you put up a smile? my father asked. Just for a bit, at least?

Initially, I had no idea what he meant. When the bridge doors opened, however, it quickly became clear.

“So, this is Celi?” a short middle-aged man asked the moment I stepped in. He was wearing casual clothes, but I instantly recognized him as captain Lio Voll—my father’s boss. “You look exactly like what Cel imagined you.” He walked up to me and laughed.

“With some input from Mom as well, I’m sure.” I didn’t know how to respond so I smiled. This was the first time I’d seen any of my father’s commanding staff. The reason was never explained, but I suspected it had to do with me being considered underage until now. Me turning twenty-one was possibly the first instance they could legally approach me.

“Yep, you definitely have a lot of her as well.” The captain nodded, walking around me, as if I were an artifact on display. It seemed annoying at first, but then I saw the tears in the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d actually see it.” He looked straight at me, his expression the epitome of overflowing joy mixed with sadness. “For eighteen years Cel’s been petitioning to start the program and each year it was delayed. I almost thought he’d get a new captain before those fat asses gave him the okay.”

“Umm, I’m honored, sir.” There was nothing I could say to that.

“Lio has always been sentimental about this, don’t mind him,” my father’s voice filled the bridge. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Everyone began to clap. I felt embarrassed. It was like going to a party and have your father introduce you to his very important friends. I’d never been to a party, but I knew that the command staff on a ship this size were a big deal. For one thing, I knew from Melissa’s daily gossip that the captain had been approved for a vice-admiral position when he left the ship next year.

“And what birthday would it be without presents?” the captain asked, after whispering a few words in regard to my father. “Are you ready to be surprised, Celi?”

Please, don’t use that word. “I don’t think I’ll manage to be more surprised than I already am.” I kept the smile on my face.

“You’d better be,” the captain laughed, slapping his hand on my shoulder, then waved at two of his officers—weapons and navigation, based on their personnel files.

Two large metallic suitcases wrapped in large ribbons were placed in front of me. I tilted my head. Not what I had expected. I picked one up. It was heavy, but well within my capabilities. No sound or motion could be felt within, as if the whole suitcase was one big block of matter.

“What are they?” I asked.

Something that will change your universe, my father said inside my head.

---

Coming of age means a lot of things. For humans, it’s said to be linked to psychological and biological changes leading to the development of certain organs and a complete change in mentality. In my case, I had new components added to me through weeks of medical procedures. When I had reached twenty-one days, I thought I knew everything there was to know and all the talk of the universe changing was the rambling of an old battle cruiser. I had no idea how wrong I was.

“Don’t worry, it’s the same as last time,” Melissa said, while examining my seventh vertebrae. “There’s nothing to be alarmed. I’m just making you a few thousands times smarter.”

“Ha, ha,” I said from the operating table.

And you’re not making me a few thousand times smarter. The number is one-point-four. After this replacement, half of my spine effectively ceased to be bone. Five power units and six additional processing cores had been added, increasing the number of subroutines under my control to nine hundred thousand—a minuscule number compared to a standard ship, but significantly more advanced.

“Have you been experiencing any side effects?” the doctor asked as the cold ends of the instrument took hold of the vertebrae. Thanks to my nature, I didn’t register pain the same way people did, yet the feeling of cold still felt uncomfortable.

“Just the vomiting.” I closed my eyes. There wasn’t anything to see anyway—I knew the room by heart, including the serial number of every component.

“Are you using your subroutines to monitor your digestion?” I felt the laser scalpel slice through part of my bone.

“No.” I still wasn’t used to controlling subroutines for anything other than simulations.

“Maybe you should,” Melissa whispered. “At least until things return to normal. There’s no shame in that, you know. You are a perfectly healthy ship. This is just part of growing up.”

Yeah, right. Ships didn’t grow up, but then again I wasn’t exactly a ship either. Right now, I was something in between.

I felt the processing core slip. All that was left was the tedious process of establishing connections with the rest of me. Thankfully, my nanites were going to take care of that under the watchful eye of Melissa.

“Sometimes I think you’re having too much fun.” I had some of my subroutines access my dad’s internal sensors. As usual, the request was granted. “You like working on me too much.”

“Fancy that,” she laughed. “You’re just one of twenty-four born ships. I don’t see why anyone would be excited, really.” Melissa mocked. “Admit it, you’re looking forward to it.”

I didn’t respond. As much as I liked to deny it, I was. It started when my father and his command staff had given me two suitcases of exo-nanites. The technology was cutting edge, multiple times more advanced than the standard ship variety. With the proper subroutines I could make pretty much anything with them. Technically, I was supposed to use them to form my frame when in space. I, however, hadn’t been able to resist experimenting with other shapes, to my father’s amusement, and the annoyance of Rocky and Poley.

“And done,” Melissa stated the obvious. “Let me just close that and you’re done for the week.”

“Yay,” I said in the dullest voice possible. “Only two thousand replacements to go.”

“Oh, definitely not that many,” the doctor laughed. “Next, we’ll add your boosters, add some life support, and then you’ll be ready for a test flight.”

She didn’t say a word about weapon systems, and that wasn’t everything she forgot to mention. My captain. I was going to also need a captain. That was the one thing that remained unchanged after centuries of technological advancement. No ship had the authority to remain autonomous; it had to be paired with a human captain at all times.

“Melissa, why am I having surgery?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If my body was constructed, couldn’t I have been born with all the additional cores and ship systems instead of having them implanted?”

“Hmm, I’m not exactly sure.” I felt the hesitation in her voice. The doctor was lying. “You know what the fleet is like. Rules within rules for rules about rules,” she tried to laugh it off. “It’s probably because you are the first single-person ship. In a few decades it’ll all be sorted out.”

“Sure.” No it wouldn’t. After a few decades I’d remain a ship.

“Hey, how about you think of happier things?” She nudged me in the shoulder. “Aren’t you looking forward to your first flight in space? I know everyone else is.”

“I bet,” I laughed. “I just hope dad doesn’t embarrass me again.”

My first flight in space. I wondered how that would feel.

---

You’re getting careless, Celi, my father transmitted, after launching a barrage of missiles in my direction. Never attack head-on when you’re at a disadvantage.

Taking a sharp turn, I performed an S-maneuver and increased my speed. Normal people would spend their free time playing sports with their children on a planet somewhere; my father engaged in full combat military exercises. It was like three-dimensional chess, but with a kick to it. So far we’d done this forty-seven times. I’d lost every single one.

Dad was much larger than me, with more beam and mass weapons at his disposal, not to mention missiles, auxiliary satellites, mines, and a fleet of manned and unmanned shuttles. The only thing I had was speed, maneuverability, some short range beam emitters. On a tactical level, my role never was to replace any large ships, but to act as a short range support ship. However, I had one advantage he didn’t. Making another sharp turn, I boosted my way towards my father again, transmitting several waves of infiltration viruses.

So, you’re getting sneaky? he laughed. Interesting. I take it you’ve been talking to your mother again?

Who knows? I transmitted back.

I had been sending her flight data ever since the first time I learned to fly properly. In her present form, my mother lacked her previous processing capacity, but made a number of suggestions based on her previous experience. Her style was extremely unorthodox, forcing me to run simulations for days, just to be sure I had understood everything correctly. Much to my surprise, her advice worked over seventy-three percent of the time.

Two missiles exploded three hundred meters from me. The instant they did, DEAD! notifications flashed in front of my eyes.

And you lost again, my father said, annoyingly pleased with the fact.

Dad, I’m not even a thousandth of your size! I grumbled, setting course for his nearest docking hangar.

I know, I know. Just pointing out this ‘old antique’ still has it. He could be so full of himself at times. Good job, though. I had to isolate seven percent of my subroutines. A few more transmission bursts and who knows?

Thanks, Dad. I could tell he was being nice. I also doubted I had affected more than five percent of his systems. I’m heading to dock.

A hundred and eighty days had passed since my birth—a stretch of time that I once regarded as inconceivable. Now it seemed as if only yesterday I had stepped out of my birth chamber, all silent and confused with a ton of questions. Now, I was no longer confused, but the questions never ended.

Arriving at the hangar doors, my subroutines transmitted the authorization codes and my boarding request. The response was promptly received as the doors slid aside, letting me enter. The crew liked to joke that this was my docking bay, and to a certain degree, they were right. With the exception of a few transport shuttles, I was the only one using it on a regular basis.

The moment I felt the bubble of Dad’s gravity, I broke up the connections of my external nanites, transforming my ship frame into an elastic shell around my body. Twisting around, I engaged my boosters one last time to break the inertia, then turned them off to safely land on the ground.

Engaging airlock. One of my father’s subsystems said in my head. Prepare for decontamination.

I loved this part—a sudden burst of warmth enveloping me after the icy flight in space. In this aspect, I was very different than my parents. They adored the touch of space. Me, I much preferred the coziness human atmosphere provided.

Decontamination complete. You may proceed aboard.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, assembling my exo-nanites into to large cubes of mass on the hangar floor. “I’ll leave these here.”

Sure thing. It’s your special day today.

My special day. I guess you could call it that. My feelings on the matter were mixed. Today was the day I left that and boarded Tiberius—a transport ship that knew my mother—for a one-way trip to the pilot academy on Enigma IV. It was part of my schedule, and also a chance to see something different than my father, and still part of me felt like staying.

“Smooth flight,” Poley greeted me at the internal hangar door. “Almost five minutes this time.”

“Thanks.” I smiled as I walked past. I was going to miss him too. “In my world, five minutes is an eternity.”

“Doc wants to see you.”

“Will do.” I waved as I ran along the corridor.

Every single person wished me luck on my way to the sickbay. It was a huge difference from a few months ago. At the time, I thought I’d never fit in. Now both me and the crew were much more relaxed about the whole matter. Even the few run-ins with the officer staff had been much more casual and open than before. I might still be the ship’s daughter, but I had also become a person.

“Hey, Melissa,” I said upon entering her domain. “What’s on the list for today?” I sat on the medical slab without waiting for a response. “Standard check, or will you be adding something?”

I waited. There was no response.

“Doc?” I looked up.

Melissa was sitting silently on her chair in the corner of the room. Her eyes were slightly red. Have you been crying? Then it hit me. After today, she wasn’t going to see me again. I could only guess what that meant for her. Of everyone onboard, she had spent the most time with me. If there was anyone who I would consider close, that was her, and in less than an hour I’d leave her behind. Did it feel like a betrayal on my part?

“Oh, don’t mind me.” She smiled, forcing a laugh. “I’ll be fine. Just getting a bit emotional in my old age.”

According to her file, she didn’t have any children, although thanks to medical science she could still form a family if she wished. In a way, I could understand what she was going through. It was different for people. My mom and dad were perfectly fine knowing I was out there, potentially receiving a transmission every few months from me. Their cores weren’t constructed for deep bonds. The closest thing was the link to their captains. Humans took things much more personally. It was strange, and yet it also felt nice.

“I promise I’ll write as much as possible.” I sat up. “I’ll try at least.”

“I know you will.” Melissa stood up, then walked to me. I expected her to give me a hug. She didn’t, handing me a small package instead. “Happy three months, Celi. Be safe and always smiling. And be sure to find a great captain.”

I opened the box. There was a badge of a smiling star inside.

---

Solum Corpus Animae Sidera. Those were the first words I saw after I landed on Enigma IV, carved on the base of a statue as big as my father. It was impossible for them not to create an impression, yet it was insignificant compared to the planet itself. On the trip here, I had gone through several virtual reality simulations in preparation for this moment, and still I found myself lacking.

This is impossible. I let go of my nanite suitcases and stared into the horizon. Landmasses continued as far as the eye could see. It was like being in space, but with a floor underneath. Just looking at it made me want to fly to the nearest landmass and back.

“Excuse me, Miss,” a firm male voice said behind me. “Do you need assistance?”

I turned around. A large man in a light gray uniform was standing there. I had a few of my subroutines perform a search to identify his uniform while I took a few steps towards him.

“Hello.” I waved casually. Since I didn’t have his data on file, I had to improvise—which meant act more like Melissa. “I’m a ship assigned to train at the academy.” I pointed at the large complex in the mountain just beyond the statue. “It’s my first day.”

“You mean you’re a pilot, Miss,” the man corrected. The uniform was identified as belonging to the starport authority, and the insignia suggested the man was a sergeant.

“No, I’m a ship,” I corrected. “I’ve come here to find a pilot.”

“I think there might be some confusion, Miss.” The man crossed his arms. “Might I have your ident?”

“My ident?” Was this guy an idiot? My nanites were my identification. Even Rock and Poley knew that. “Okay.” I extended my left arm forward. “Here.”

My reaction confused the man. He spent the first three seconds staring at my hand, after which he straightened up and called for backup on his wrist communicator. I did not move, patiently waiting for him to scan me.

Are you really this slow? I sighed, looking him in the eye. We could have been done ten times over by now.

“She’s a member of the academy,” a middle aged woman in a red tunic said. “Priority clearance.”

This was the first time I had heard of such a term, but it managed to make the man nervous. Seconds after hearing those words, his face turned pale. He immediately apologized to me, then to the woman, then hurried away back into the starport terminal.

“That was weird.” I tilted my head.

“Hardly,” the woman sighed. “Are you Celestial Light?”

“Yes.” I nodded with a smile. “Are you part of the academy?”

“Grab your nanites and get registered.” The woman turned around. “And don’t run late.”

“Sure.” That also felt weird. I snatched my suitcases and ran in the direction of the academy registration terminal. “Thank you!”

Later I would learn that the woman was Dean Voa McMillan—a retired fleet admiral, overseeing the entire ship training program. She was the one who would determine when I, or any of the other ships, would be ready to take on a captain and be cleared for active duty.

As I reached the registration, a slight drizzle had started falling from the sky. From what I had read in my father’s library files, the part of Enigma IV where I was to be had a temperatel climate accompanied by frequent rain showers. This was the first time I had felt rain outside of virtual reality. My mother had once told me that she adored rain because it reminded her if space. I didn’t share her enthusiasm. Clutching my suitcases, I rushed to shelter.

The registration area was more or less what I expected: a large empty space that broke up into dozens of corridors. In the distance, I could see part of a land transport shuttle, potentially leading everyone who had registered to the academy proper. In terms of size, the building wasn’t anything special, yet the abundance of empty space made it appear three times larger than it was. Giant signs displaying directions to the nearest registration booth floated around.

Fourteen twenty-seven. I spotted an opening and went in the instructed direction. Shortly after, I reached an interview counter in one of the corridors.

“Welcome, Miss,” a smiling woman with long blond hair greeted me. “How may I be of assistance?”

“Hello.” I put the suitcases on the floor in front of me. “I’d like to register.” I paused. “I think I might have priority clearance.”

“Name please?”

“Celi,” I replied without thinking, “Or Celestial Light,” I added.

“Thank you, Miss.” The woman typed something on her console. “Could I ask for your identification?”

“Sure.” Here we go again. I placed my wrist against the glass of the counter. Unlike the guy before, this woman knew what she was doing. It took her precisely one second to take out a nanite reader and scan me.

“Thank you.” She glanced at the readings, then put the reader away. “First time on Enigma IV, Miss Light?”

The name made me cringe. “First time on any planet ever,” I replied.

“In that case, let me congratulate you for choosing to start here.” She seemed nice, almost as gossipy as Melissa, though in an entirely different way. “We don’t get many ships here. Are you starting in a teaching position?”

“Umm, no, I’m here as a student.” I tried not to laugh. At six months old, I doubted I was teacher material.

“Oh?” The woman gave me a surprised look, before focusing her attention back on her consoles. “Oh, my apologies. You’re part of the single-pilot program.”

“Yep.” That I was, and completely clueless as to what entailed. “Are there others like me?”

“According to the allocation list, twenty-four, though you are the first to arrive.”

“Ah.” I nodded, as if there was any difference.

“Just bear with me a moment more.” The woman typed something else in. “You’ve been assigned your own wing in the academy dorm. You’ll be transmitted the internal rules and code of conduct upon arrival, but the brief version is: do not cause too much noise or chaos, and refrain from flying without proper authorization.”

Lady, you should see what it’s like living with my father.

“Here we go.” She reached to some sort of device, then handed me a small metallic card and a badge-pin the size of my thumbnail. “This is your identification. You’re advised to keep it with you at all times. The ident badge is exclusively used by the academy, but can also be read by local law enforcement, including starport security.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I pinned it onto my blouse next to Melissa’s gift.. Not exactly a fashion statement, but it would do.

“You’re also granted a double room you can access with your ident badge.”

“I’ll be staying with another ship?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course not.” The woman smiled. “Once you have found your captain, you’ll be staying with them.”

My captain... The word made me freeze up for no reason. It was as if my core, along with all of its subroutines, had hiccuped, wreaking chaos in my mind. I felt my pulse hasten. Only now, five months after I had found out I could fly, had it finally kicked in. I would be getting a captain, my first captain. Starting today, I had set off on my own personal journey of discovery. From this day on, I’d form my own bonds, acquire my own experiences, and not have to rely on others to give it to me.

I looked at my identity card. The name Celestial “Celi” Light was written on it with small block letters, right above my biometric strip. I slid my fingers over its plastic-aluminum surface, as if to remind myself it was real.

From today on, I’m no longer just my father’s daughter.

“Is everything alright, Miss Light?” I heard the woman ask. “Is there anything you’d like me to explain?”

“No.” I put the ident card in my pocket. “Everything is fine.” I smiled.

Six months ago, a subsystem of my father’s had asked how I felt. I didn’t know the answer back then. I didn’t know it five minutes ago. Yet now I did. For the first time in my existence, I finally felt myself.