The dimensional workshop ran with quiet efficiency as Tanya reviewed the performance logs from their rescue prototype. Three days had passed since their escape from Eden-Five, and she was finally beginning to process everything that had happened. It felt good just to be crunching the numbers. She may not feel as connected to this ship as the others, but it was a good distraction.
A soft chime drew her attention to a holographic notification hovering near her workstation. Knowledge Points accumulated, the display read, a figure that made her pause: 347 KP available for allocation.
"That's more than I expected," she said aloud. That was nearly 200 KP more than she was expecting. She of course, had uses for some of the lessons Sage offered, and was keen to dive back into dimensional sciences, but something didn't feel right.
She made no move to access the Knowledge Point allocation system. "I don't think I've earned it yet. Not until we prove the ship actually works for what it's supposed to do."
//The system responds to meaningful achievement rather than mere technical completion,// Sage replied carefully.
"Ah." Tanya nodded, recognising the familiar pattern of Sage providing guidance through carefully timed suggestions. "So you think I'll need upgrades for what we're about to attempt."
//Knowledge without application serves little purpose. But application without adequate knowledge can be problematic.//
In her corner of the workshop, Mera's bioluminescent patterns shifted from the gentle blues and greens she'd displayed over the past few days to something more complex with silver threads weaving through deeper purples, creating spirals that almost seemed to pulse with meaning.
"You've been restless lately," Tanya observed, moving closer to the containment field. "Ever since we entered deep vortex space. Is something wrong?"
Mera's patterns intensified, colours flowing faster across her translucent form. On impulse, Tanya activated a new communication protocol she'd been experimenting with. It was a xenolinguistic modelling AI she'd purchased from the extranet months ago. She had decided to buy it after interacting with aliens in her lesson. It had been marketed as a theoretical model for analysing non-human communication patterns, based on theoretical patterns, and she'd loaded it with days of Mera's behavioural data to see if it could make any progress.
The AI suggested a combination of vocal tones, light frequencies, and subtle vibrations transmitted through the workshop's systems, creating what it calculated as the most likely resonance patterns for meaningful contact.
The response was immediate. Mera contracted slightly, then expanded, her bioluminescence shifting to match the rhythm of the AI's experimental signals.
//Fascinating,// Sage commented. //Her responses demonstrate patterned empathy. Not quite linguistic communication, but something approaching meaning alignment. Your commercial xenolinguistic program appears more sophisticated than its marketing suggested.//
"Either that, or Mera is more adaptable than we thought," Tanya replied, watching the alien organism continue to mirror the communication patterns. "The AI was supposed to be purely theoretical. I wasn't expecting actual results." Secretly, Tanya suspected Sage had placed a hand on the scale; it's the only thing that made sense to her. She wondered if it was more about plausible deniability
"I think she's trying to tell us something," Tanya said, adjusting the signal parameters. "Something about the vortex around us."
She tried a different approach of projecting images of their current location, sensor readings from the surrounding space, and navigation charts showing their position relative to known traffic routes. Mera's response was a slow pulse of gold-blue light, followed by more complex patterns that seemed to indicate... agreement? Recognition?
"Can you sense anomalies the same way you sense dimensional storms?" Tanya asked.
Mera pulsed once in a clear, sustained glow of warm gold.
"That's a yes," Tanya said with growing excitement. "
An hour later, the team had gathered in Genesis's command lounge.
"We need to test our salvage operations," Tanya announced without preamble. "The prototype retrofit is nearly complete, but, we need to prove the concept works before we commit to larger operations."
Amara pulled up her tablet, accessing databases she'd compiled from public records and insurance claims. "I've been researching potential targets. Lost ships, abandoned stations, cargo pods that went missing during routine transfers. The question is which ones are worth the risk."
"Define risk," Drew said. "Because everything about this situation seems pretty high-risk to me."
"Navigation hazards, Alien contact and unknown anomalies," Cameron replied. "Plus the general problem of operating in deep vortex where rescue would be... difficult."
"Which is why we start with something that's been written off for decades," Tanya said. "Something nobody else would bother looking for."
Amara highlighted several entries on her list. "I have dozens of candidates, but one stands out. The Allise Star, a luxury cruiser that disappeared sixty-seven years ago with all hands presumed dead."
She projected the ship's specifications: elegant lines, premium accommodations, state-of-the-art systems for its era. "Last transmission reported encountering 'unidentified contact' before going silent. Search and rescue operations found nothing."
"unidentified contact," Simran repeated. "That's... ominous."
"That's also why nobody's found it," Janet pointed out. "If there's even a chance of alien involvement, most salvage operators would stay away. Aliens are the bogey monsters of deep space."
Carlos studied the ship's medical manifest. "Three hundred passengers, crew of fifty. If something happened to them... we might not be the first to find the wreck."
"We might be the first to find it at all," Tanya corrected. "Standard navigation can't track ships that disappear completely in deep vortex. But we have advantages other salvage teams lack."
"My workshop has specialised technology aboard that should help us track any leads," Tanya said carefully, glancing briefly toward the workshop where only Cameron, Janet, and Amara knew about Mera's presence. "And Sage's dimensional navigation capabilities might let us reconstruct the Allise Star's final trajectory."
[The proposal has merit,] Sage agreed through the multi-tool's speakers. [Genesis's sensor arrays can detect subdimensional changes in vortex space, which can be enhanced by the equipment in the workshop. These echoes would be invisible to standard equipment. If the vessel remains intact, we should be able to locate it.]
Drew, Simran, and Carlos exchanged glances, clearly curious about what kind of "specialised technology" Tanya was referring to, but not quite ready to push for details after yesterday's confrontation about information sharing.
"Enhanced sensors," Janet added diplomatically, having understood what they were thinking. "Some of the equipment we've been developing has applications beyond standard navigation."
"Then that's our first target," Amara said, making notes on her tablet. "Far enough off normal shipping routes to avoid territorial complications, old enough that any competing claims would have expired, valuable enough to fund our next phase of operations."
"Ghost ship salvage," Drew said with a grin that suggested his earlier resentment was fading. "Perfect way to start our new careers as space scavengers."
The prototype rescue ship had been transformed over the past six days into something that barely resembled its original configuration. The modular rescue pods had been replaced with heavy-duty manipulator arms and cargo containers. Medical fabrication bays had been reconfigured as material processing units. The humanitarian vessel had become a utilitarian workhorse designed for the dirty business of breaking down derelict ships.
"She's not pretty anymore," Janet said as they performed final systems checks, "but she's functional. Cutting beams, tractor arrays, and material containment. It has everything we need to reduce a ship to component atoms."
"And the specialised equipment has been integrated into the sensor network," Tanya added, monitoring readings from the xenolinguistic AI's analysis patterns. "The system should feed additional data directly into our navigation protocols."
Cameron ran diagnostics on the dimensional positioning array. "Sage has uploaded enhanced navigation protocols. We're detecting current vortex disturbances that indicate mass concentrations."
"Think of it as sensing ripples in the dimensional fabric," Janet explained to the others. "Large objects create ongoing perturbations in vortex space, even when they've been stationary for decades. Our enhanced sensors can detect those anomalies."
Drew looked interested despite himself. "So, we're looking for places where the vortex itself has been... disturbed?"
"Exactly," Tanya confirmed, grateful that Janet had provided a plausible explanation that didn't involve mentioning Mera. "Dead ships don't disappear completely."
Tanya settled into the pilot's seat, her hands finding controls that were familiar yet subtly different from her usual ships. This was the prototype's first manned flight. The months of design work and fabrication were finally put to the test with an actual crew aboard. But there was something else, too; she could feel the unfamiliar awareness of Mera threading through the ship's sensor network, like having an additional sense that operated just beyond normal perception.
The nervousness was expected. Every shipwright felt it when testing a new design for the first time, that mix of excitement and anxiety as theory became reality. "Pre-flight diagnostics complete," Cameron reported from the engineering station. "All systems showing green."
"Navigation protocols uploaded," Janet added. "Ready for launch on your command."
Tanya took a breath. She was ready for this and couldn't wait to get started. It was their first step toward proving that their salvage operations could work, that their dreams of a peacekeeping fleet had a foundation in reality.
"Launch when ready," she announced, her voice steadier than she felt.
Genesis's hangar opened like a flower, its mechanical systems cycling with precision that spoke of centuries of careful maintenance. The prototype slipped into vortex space, its hull immediately beginning to shimmer with the characteristic distortions of dimensional travel.
//Sensor arrays active,// Sage reported. //Beginning reconstruction of historical energy signatures.//
The search took four hours of careful navigation through regions where space itself seemed uncertain. Mera's responses grew stronger as they approached their target zone with silver-green patterns flowing across her form with increasing urgency. Whatever she was sensing, they were getting closer to it.
"Contact," Cameron announced suddenly. "Massive metallic signature, approximately two kilometers off our starboard bow."
The Allise Star appeared on their screens exactly as they'd expected, a dead hulk drifting in the void, its elegant hull breached in multiple locations by what were unmistakably weapons impacts. Atmosphere had vented long ago, leaving the luxury cruiser as lifeless as any derelict they might find in normal space.
"Standard salvage situation," Drew said, studying the structural scans. "Hull breaches consistent with directed energy weapons, complete atmospheric loss, no power signatures. Whatever happened here, it was fast and final."
The scan revealed no mysterious situation, just the tragic end of a passenger vessel that had encountered hostile forces and lost.
"No life signs, no residual energy," Cameron confirmed. "It's exactly what we expected to find."
But as their detailed scans penetrated deeper into the wreck, the magnitude of the tragedy became clear. Bodies. Hundreds of them, preserved in the vacuum and cold of deep space, still at their posts or huddled in what had been passenger compartments.
"Three hundred and fifty souls," Carlos said quietly, his medical scanner providing grim confirmation. "Passengers, crew, everyone."
The team fell silent as the reality of their find sank in. This wasn't just a salvage operation—it was a tomb.
"Amara," Tanya called over the comm. "We're going to need Genesis for this operation. The scale is beyond what our prototype can handle alone."
"Understood," came the reply. "On our way."
An hour later, Genesis's massive bulk hung alongside them, its industrial fabrication systems preparing to systematically dismantle the wreck. But the presence of the dead had transformed a routine salvage operation into something far more complex.
"We have a decision to make," Tanya announced as the full team gathered aboard the prototype to survey their find. "Standard salvage practice would be to work around the remains, strip what's valuable, and leave everything else for the void. But..."
"But these are people," Simran finished. "Families who never got closure. Crews who deserved better than drifting forgotten in deep vortex."
"The legal requirements are murky," Amara said, consulting her databases. "In unclaimed space, salvage rights typically include disposal of human remains, but there's no standard protocol. Some operations ignore them entirely."
Drew studied the passenger manifest they'd recovered from the ship's intact data banks. "Children aboard. Whole families travelling together. It doesn't feel right to just... leave them."
"Storage and transport would present significant logistical challenges," Cameron pointed out. "We're talking about three hundred and fifty bodies, plus whatever personal effects might be recoverable. The resource commitment would be substantial."
Tanya found herself staring at the wreck through the prototype's viewports, thinking about the lives that had ended here. People who'd been traveling toward new homes, new opportunities, new beginnings that never came.
"We bring them aboard Genesis," she decided. "All of them. We take time to recover personal effects, document identities, treat them with the dignity they deserve. Then we give them a proper space burial."
"That's going to take days," Janet observed. "Maybe weeks, depending on how careful we want to be."
"Then that's how long we take," Tanya replied firmly. "These people have been waiting sixty-seven years for someone to find them. We're not going to rush them into unmarked graves just for the sake of efficiency."
The Salvage operation was a strange, meditative work—part archaeological expedition, part funeral preparation. Each recovered body was treated as an individual, documented and wrapped with care before being transferred to Genesis's expanded morgue facilities.
Personal effects told stories: wedding rings, children's toys, photographs of families and loved ones, letters never sent. They catalogued everything, creating a comprehensive record that someday might bring closure to descendants who'd never known what happened to their ancestors.
"The weapons fire was concentrated on the bridge and engineering sections," Cameron reported as they mapped the damage. "Someone wanted to disable the ship, not destroy it. This was probably piracy gone wrong."
"Or raiders who got spooked and decided to eliminate witnesses," Drew added grimly.
They had seemed to rule out alien intervention. Which was good as it would make it easier to sell the salvage.
The salvage itself proceeded with mechanical efficiency. Hull plating went into her workshop recycler and dissolved into streams of pure elements, internal systems were carefully extracted and sorted, valuable components flowed into Genesis's cargo bays. But the presence of the dead lent gravity to every action.
"Enough material to fund some purchases we require," Amara calculated as they neared completion. "Plus, historical artifacts that might have cultural value. It was a well-known ship in its time ."
But it was the final ceremony that would stay with them longest.
They gathered in Genesis's main hangar, where three hundred and fifty-ish wrapped forms lay in neat rows. Tanya had spent hours researching funeral traditions, trying to find words that would honor lives from dozens of different cultures and belief systems.
"We didn't know you," she began, her voice carrying clearly in the vast space. "We don't know your names, your dreams, your hopes for the future that was taken from you. But we found you, and we remember you, and we're here to see you safely home to the stars."
The ceremony was simple but profound—each body released into realspace with coordinates logged for any family members who might someday want to visit. Personal effects were sealed in a memorial capsule that would be forwarded to the appropriate authorities for potential identification.
"Rest well," Tanya concluded as the last of the bodies drifted away into the cosmic dark. "Your journey is finally complete."