No Regrets? The Admiral's Shadow
"Don't regret it? So if I'm the deputy captain, then who the hell is this 'captain' you're talking about?!"
"Hing... How the hell should I know? If we're counting from when my consciousness woke up, I'm barely an hour old myself... But if you insist, there's someone in the ship's access logs with a rank higher than yours, which is why I can't authorize takeoff."
"Hoo... Then if you've checked the access logs, you must know the time of entry or at least their rank, right?"
"The timeframe is just scraps of info from right after I woke up, so that data's long deleted. But the rank? Of course I know it."
Bridget let out a frustrated sigh, slumping into her seat. She'd never dreamed a warship like this would be saddled with such a useless AI. "Fine. There were probably security protocols or some system glitch before you woke up, so I'll let the shaky data collection slide... But what exactly is this higher rank you're talking about? I'm a captain myself—former student council president at the academy—so I've always kept tabs on anyone above me."
"Well... it's kinda vague. My programming doesn't even recognize this rank, but it's popping up alerts to treat them with respect or whatever... An admiral's deputy? What the hell kind of rank is that? Ugh..."
"..."
In stark contrast to the holographic Minerva—her pure white AI form cutely furrowing her brow and tilting her head—the bridge fell deathly silent, every officer freezing in place. Bridget held the highest visible rank here as captain, but "admiral" or "deputy to an admiral" was leagues above even the academy principal they'd idolized as cadets.
Military tribunal... No, forget that. Beyond any trial, this could be a lifeline—if I play it right, it might turn into a massive career boost.
In the heavy silence, Bridget shivered under the instinctive weight of that rank, but in their bizarre predicament, a captain—whatever their identity—meant she could dump full or partial blame for operating the ship onto them during the inevitable tribunal. Her lips, twitching with frustration at not becoming captain, smoothed into calm resolve.
There are only three admirals in the Federation... Whose deputy could this be, sneaking aboard without a word?
Sure, cadets were running the ship, but no vessel was a toy for kids. In the emergency, they'd rallied visiting officers and personnel from other units to get her moving—that was reality. Bridget figured one of them must've gotten swept up in the chaos, sparking this mess.
"B-but if it's someone that high-ranking, wouldn't they have asserted themselves when we started operating the ship?"
"Hm..."
James Dean, the sergeant who'd spoken up despite the crisis—watching for cues—earned Bridget's nod. His operating skills and the cadets' crisis response impressed her. "Good point, Sergeant. I overlooked that. It probably ties to the deputy badge... That explains everything."
"What's a deputy badge?"
Minerva, who'd been watching them idly via hologram, shoved her face close to the screen at this unfamiliar term. As an AI, she brimmed with human-like superiority, so hearing something she didn't know from Bridget stung.
The uncanny human vibe made Bridget suppress a shudder before explaining slowly. "Most rank-and-file or low officers wouldn't know, but think of it as a special badge for captains and key personnel on the front lines during the Great War. There's a deputy captain rank, but this lets them appoint a proxy by handing over the badge."
"Ah... So it's like the system created to address complaints and low evaluations of deputy captains in old data?"
"...Something like that."
Deputy captains weren't true right-hands to captains; they were wartime proxies for those not quite captain material. The data from their clashes with captains now made Bridget feel lumped in with them, her brow furrowing. It felt like petty revenge from Minerva for their bickering.
"Anyway, that makes sense now. Honorary ranks from badges aren't in my official registry, so of course I didn't know."
Minerva struck a pose—hands on hips, shoulders back—and Bridget ground her teeth, but arguing with the ship's AI over a proxy captain was pointless. She turned sharply to her classmate Kyle, now leading the combat unit. "Lieutenant Kyle, per Minerva, I need official captain registration to leave this sector. Gather everyone to the hangar now."
"...You sure?"
Reading his concern—gentle beneath his usual boldness—Bridget nodded gratefully. "No choice. Succession needs witnesses. Go."
Kyle confirmed her captain-like resolve in her eyes, then led his juniors and lower cadets off the bridge.
"Heh... Quick switch-up. And popular too..."
Fully autonomous AIs might seem human-equivalent to some, but they were supercomputers exceeding human calculation and logic. If they mimicked human thought, they outstripped geniuses. Minerva, piecing together the drama from Bridget's micro-expressions, Kyle's tone, and her gestures, projected a small hologram beside her and whispered privately—treating her as deputy.
Chills ran through Bridget at the subtle praise from such a superior AI, but she snorted. "After you cost me the captain spot? What choice do I have?"
"Even with an honorary badge, they might be spineless for staying quiet."
"Exactly. Hiding in this mess means no ambition, no skill. I grab the perks, dodge blame—perfect. You'd know that better than anyone."
"..."
A spineless captain with max authority, an AI bound to obey, and a deputy skimming benefits while evading responsibility. As Bridget smirked expectantly, Minerva felt her throat tighten, words failing in frustration.