Camberia Virgo: Artrix Station (5)
"Really small."
That was the honest impression of Artrix Station viewed from the third bridge at the lower hull.
Of course, data-wise it was a massive cylindrical structure over a kilometer in diameter—no empty flattery could call it small. But compared to the absurd scale of the UNSS Covenant I was riding, it was small. Fifteen kilometers long, after all. Now I got why it was Everest-class. A fitting name for such a behemoth.
The UNSS Covenant had already reached the final stages of docking with Artrix Station. Honestly, it felt more realistic to say we were the ones engulfing the station rather than docking with it. Unfortunately, though, the UNSS Covenant lacked the facilities to properly stow a station that size inside. If you asked why a ship that could carry and maintain a dozen 1km-plus escort vessels couldn't hold a 1km space habitat, hell if I knew. I wasn't the designer. But I got it—the ship itself was basically a giant space habitat.
"Admiral."
White sidled up beside me. She gave off this vibe like she was shyly about to confess something. Was it right to feel these indescribable emotions toward a mere blue orb...? Maybe my head was going a little funny from not talking to actual humans lately.
"What's up?" I asked her seriously. That bashful tone meant something was brewing. Something extremely difficult, tricky, and annoying.
Of course, White and I had only known each other a few hours, but weirdly, her thoughts were as transparent as if we'd been buddies for years.
"There are a few matters requiring your approval."
White cautiously extended a tablet. No hands or solid form, so it looked like it floated over on its own. I snatched the hovering tablet from midair.
Several items were queued under "pending approval." The first involved finalizing the docking procedure with Artrix Station. No reason to refuse or ignore, so I tapped approve without reading the details. One down.
Next up: "Shutdown of select ship functions."
Shutdown of select functions? What the hell was this?
"Gonna need an explanation," I said, showing it to White with a serious look. I couldn't quite grasp what "partial shutdown" entailed. Sure, I knew shutdown meant powering down, but which functions, and why spelled out in detail?
"This vessel is a 15km monster. Just basic movement eats over half my processing power. Factor in combat and scanning, and it's most of my capacity. So the bulk of my functions are barely limping along at minimum."
White stated it deadpan, like it was nothing. Not news to me—she'd mentioned earlier that pushing like this would flatline her for at least ten minutes. She was overclocked.
"How far do we need to throttle ship functions?"
Now for the meat. What to kill off for breathing room? I'd pored over the manuals a dozen times, but I still didn't have a full grip on every feature the UNSS Covenant packed. Time to lean on White, who knew this ship inside out.
White paused, as if deep in calculation.
"In docked mode, propulsion isn't critical. Internal production facility checks can skip too. I'd love to cut life support in unoccupied zones, but post-docking, we'll likely transfer survivors aboard, so it'll stay on."
Straight-faced reply, matter-of-fact.
"Limiting to fixed-turret mode?" I asked. Half-joking—absurd to think of a 15km ship as "just" fixed turrets. Leave its combat teeth intact like that, and it'd be an interstellar fortress easy.
"Even fixed-turret performance acceptable?"
White took me literally and threw it back. Ridiculous.
"If we limit to fixed turrets, how low can we go?" I shot back, skeptical. Not just main guns and life support with everything else dead, right? I'd reject that in a heartbeat.
"Everything except the 1GW Pulsed Laser main guns can shut down."
"Rejected."
No hesitation—firm no. We weren't volunteering to eat hits one-sided.
"Keep shields, all weapon systems, life support, and sensors. How much headroom then?"
I added specifics to her approval doc and asked seriously.
White went quiet, crunching numbers.
"Navigation control takes the second-highest chunk of my capacity. Killing that alone secures plenty, Admiral."
Deadpan as ever.
Fine. I tacked on my input and hit approve.
And the last one...
What. The hell. Title alone made my jaw drop. I instinctively glared at White.
"White's Modeling Request"
...What in the actual fuck was this?
"Care to explain?" I shoved the screen at her, dead serious.
No sooner had I finished than the ship gave a light shudder. Tablet flashed: "Docking complete. Pressure equalization in progress."
"Can't stay a blue orb forever."
White's response was instant, unflinching.
Faster than before. Did securing capacity make her snappier?
"No premade models at all?" Skeptical as hell. If true, major headache.
"Had some, deleted for capacity. Hence, strongly requesting you model my body, Admiral."
Her tone softened, more natural. Downright brazen now... Like looking at a cheeky little sister you wanna smack upside the head.
"You seriously think I can 3D model?"
Born with zero talent for that crap. Drawing? Twelve years of school, never not dead last.
"Your artistic skills are federation-infamous, Admiral. Case in point: that serious landscape you drew traumatized the naval officer corps so bad they purged it from records."
She hit me with teasing playfulness, like she'd been waiting.
Yep. Confirmed. Playful tone meant ship ops were her version of a straitjacket.
"Approved? Nah, rejected." Finger hovered over reject, face stone.
But the screen flipped instantly to a super-familiar interface. Straight out of an MMORPG character customizer.
What the...
"Relevant tools are prepped, Admiral."
Serious, almost pleading.
Dragging out full tools like this? She really needed a body model. Felt like watching a nephew beg for allowance. Why the hell was I catching feelings for an AI...?
Fine, whatever. Time to kill anyway. Quick and dirty. But load it with my tastes. Female, white hair... SF ship operators were women by default in my book. White-haired ones? Ideal type. Green eyes... Face came out vaguely elven-fantasy vibe. Wasn't aiming for elf, but it nailed that aura. Shame—no pointy ears option. Oh well.
Body: slender over curvy. Modest chest, not huge. Personal prefs galore.
Screen White now brimmed with my quirks. Hit apply.
Tablet showed "Applying" with a loading bar. The blue orb White before me flickered, processing quietly.
Moment later, there she stood—exactly as modeled. Figure-sized at first. Proportions spot-on despite scale. Wearing something like my uniform, it fit perfectly.
White eyed her new form curiously, twisting this way and that. Then fixed me with an odd look. In a blink, she scaled up to human height—fist shorter than me.
"...Your tastes haven't changed, Admiral."
Light smile, casual as you please.
Changed? What did that even—
"Admiral. Pressure regulation complete. Docked normally at Artrix Station."
She cut me off short, standing prim as if waiting for me to follow her out of the ready room.
What the actual hell.