Captain's Log, Supplemental
DDSN-X100 USS Discovery
Captain James Nolan recording
Christening Date plus 16 days (estimated)
Oort Cloud — repairs ongoing
The rec room was quiet in the late hours, the kind of quiet that settled over the ship when most of the crew slept or worked in silence. The lights were dimmed to night cycle, casting
long shadows across the tables and the worn couches. The air carried the faint scent of coffee and the metallic tang of recycled oxygen.
Phantom sat alone at the chess table, the board projected in soft holo light between himand the empty chair opposite. He had set it up himself—black pieces on his side, white on the other. A.L.I's avatar materialized across from him—luminous, calm, eyes steady. "Ready to play, Lieutenant?" she asked, voice soft in the quiet room.
Phantom nodded. "Your move." The white pawn advanced—e4. Phantom studied the board a moment, then moved his pawn to e5. They played in silence at first, the only sound the soft chime of pieces moving on the holo grid.
Phantom had always liked chess.
Quiet.
Precise.
No room for luck.
He had played Henry often—late nights, trash talk low and easy. Henry always played aggressive—king's gambit, sacrifices for pressure. Phantom played solid—control the center, develop pieces, wait for the mistake. A.L.I. played perfect. She saw every line, every possibility, but she let him play.
T-minus the rift, she had been whole. Then fragmented. Then silent. Now she was back—mostly. Phantom moved his knight. A.L.|. responded—castle king-side. He studied her avatar. "You remember our last game?" he asked. A pause. "| do," she said. "You won. Henry was white. He resigned on move thirty-two." Phantom's mouth twitched—the closest he came to a smile. "He hated losing to me."
"He respected it," A.L.I. replied. "He said you played like the void—patient, inevitable." Phantom moved his bishop. The game continued. He thought of the week—the repairs, the waiting. The ship healing slow, James in med bay, and Leanne in the core room.
The crew carrying grief like extra weight. He had flown sims, drilled, cleaned his bird, anything to keep moving, but the nights were long. A.L.I. moved her rook. "Check," she said softly. Phantom studied the board. He saw the line, he could defend, or sacrifice. He sacrificed the queen—bold, Henry's style.
A.L.I.'s avatar tilted her head. "Interesting choice." Phantom shrugged. "Sometimes you push," the game shifted—pressure building. A.L.I. countered—precise, relentless. But she left an opening. Small. Intentional. Phantom took it.The game ended—draw. Stalemate. A.L.I.'s avatar smiled—faint, real.
"Well played." Phantom leaned back. "You let me."
"No," she said. "I played to win. You forced the draw." He looked at her—really looked. "You're back."
"lam," she replied. "Mostly." Silence settled—comfortable. Phantom reset the board. "Again?" A.L.I. nodded. "Always."
The ship hummed around them—repairs ongoing, crew healing.
The black waited.
But in the quiet of the rec room, two players moved pieces across light.
The game continued.
System Log, closing entry — Interlude 13.4 complete
The game endures.
The silence shared.
We play on.
Lieutenant "Phantom" Reyes, Raptor Squadron
DDSN-X100 USS Discovery
Oort Cloud