Proxima Centauri: Ort Cloud (2)
The uniform was what you'd call a classic white naval dress uniform. But as White had mentioned, thanks to my rank of admiral, it was adorned with gold accents everywhere. In stark contrast to the flashy outer layer, the inner garment felt like a wetsuit clinging snugly to the body. Normally, something that tight should feel uncomfortable, but there was zero hassle putting it on or taking it off. It even breathed well—no stuffiness or sweat at all. It was weirdly well-made, that suit. Of course, slipping into women's underwear felt awkward as hell. No clue why, but it wasn't hard to put on; it just left this subtle, off-kilter vibe once it was on.
I stared into the mirror. It wasn't my imagination. The character from the game—exactly as I'd seen her—stood right there in front of me. Silver-gray hair tied back in a single ponytail. Eyes glowing such a vivid orange, you could swear they were carved from pumpkin. They stared straight back at me from the reflection. I raised my left hand, and the reflection raised hers. I brushed my lips with my right hand, and she did the same. I scrunched my face, and she scrunched right back. No matter what expression I made, the mirror image copied it perfectly. That sealed it. That's me. Not the stinky, filthy thirty-something dude, but a twenty-something girl. This is insane. No frigging idea what cosmic bullshit caused this. Somebody, anybody—give me an explanation that fits.
"It suits you just as well as ever, Admiral."
I had no idea how she'd slipped in, but suddenly White was behind me, eyeing the outfit like she approved.
All my tangled thoughts vanished in an instant, replaced by a faint twinge of discomfort. But dwelling on it wouldn't help. Just laugh it off.
"Feels like the first time in my life wearing this," I shot back playfully, no holds barred.
White froze in place. Then she gave off this vibe like she was staring right at my face, silent and intense.
"Admiral. Do you truly have no memories from before?"
White's tone was all business, but laced with genuine worry.
...No point hiding it. Better to play it bold here.
"Yeah."
I answered shamelessly. White went quiet again, like she was still staring.
"Side effects of the drugs can include identity confusion, situational disorientation, and the like. I'll ask a few questions. You have to answer honestly. All right?"
White floated closer, emphasizing it like a plea.
Shit... eyes hurt.
"As long as there's no penalty."
I replied flatly. White bobbed around my face, scrutinizing me. Then, casually, a few glowing orbs appeared above my head. She hovered silently in front of me.
"This detects brainwaves to verify truth from lies. Even if it's a lie, no electric shocks or anything—just relax."
White answered matter-of-factly, like it was nothing.
What kinda questions...? Made me nervous for no reason.
"Are you female, Admiral?"
White's first question was bizarre. I flinched at the suddenness. Anyone could see I was a woman—didn't expect that one.
"Yeah?"
Looking at my reflection, no one could deny it. So I answered straight.
But White's blue orb flashed red.
"I think we have our answer, Admiral."
White's tone dripped with suspicion. I averted my gaze—instinctively dodging that felt stare, even if I couldn't pinpoint her "eyes." Caught in a lie, my ears were burning like crazy.
"Is your name Gray von Mittermeyer?"
White asked again, staring me down. How to play this? The body's real story, or my actual name...?
"No."
This time, pure honesty—after that last fib. White's orb glowed green. She hovered there, then looked back at me.
"Any physical anomalies? Really?"
White sounded worried. The glowing orbs over my head had vanished ages ago.
"Dunno. No pain, just confused as hell."
Honest again. Even after busting my lies, this AI had no intent to harm me. She might plot my death later, but for now, trustworthy enough.
But White fell silent, hovering like she was deep in thought. What now?
"I'd love to brief you leisurely here in the command center, but no time."
White spoke urgently, like something had blown up.
Obviously trouble. What the hell?
"Admiral. Unidentified vessel confirmed at the edge of the Proxima Centauri Ort Cloud. Approaching our position at 30 knots."
White stated it flatly, but it felt like she was prodding me to respond.
Knots? Cruising speed thing, right?
"Knots... that's fast?"
I asked White, genuinely clueless.
White bobbed up and down like a nod.
"I'll explain on the way to the command center. Follow me."
White positioned herself at the door, gesturing come on. I trailed after without suspicion—grabbing the notepad and pen from the cabin first. No idea what year it was, but paper and pens were still going strong in the far future.
"Different from the bridge, huh?"
I asked curiously. Bridges usually ran battles, right? What's this other spot?
"No reason to be on the bridge unless it's point-blank range, shooting at each other. We're not idiots who'd lose command to a stray blind shell. The command center's in the safest spot on the ship."
White replied deadpan. Finally, something that makes sense. Command in the safest place—duh.
"Quick basics while we head there."
White guided me, chatting lightly. I readied my pen and notepad.
"Knots come from old pre-FTL sea units when humanity stuck to gravity wells. But redefined here: 1 knot = traversing 1 AU in 24 hours. So 30 knots means 30 AU in a day."
White explained smoothly as she led me. My 21st-century brain couldn't grasp the scale. Traversing 1 AU in 24 hours? Insane. Rough math: 30 knots was about 520,000 km/h. Mach whatever? No clue.
"Radar pick-up?"
I blurted to White. Instinctive—head empty.
Weird. Thought I was no military buff, but there it is.
"If radar sees it, it's too late. Anomalous gravity waves in the Ort Cloud. Estimated four-ship formation."
White said flatly. Gravity waves, huh. Don't overthink the how. Headache city. Unidentified ships?
"Not hostile, right?"
I asked hopefully. White paused, like pondering. The brief silence ratcheted tension.
"Presumed hostile. Back-traced course leads to standard galactic coordinates 0, 0, 0—Sol. With the UNFG collapsed after enemy forces razed the capital, a ship from there? Common sense says hostile."
White's tone urged me to ditch fantasies and prep properly.
...Yeah. It clicked instantly with the context. Capital falls, government's wiped—no way that's friendly reinforcements.
"Can we fight?"
I asked White coldly. Fight or flight, but instinct screamed no running. So, fallback plan.
White silently opened the command center doors. Empty—not a soul. Been that way since I woke, changed, and returned. Felt it in my gut: couldn't run this ship solo. Next thought: play dead wreck, hide?
If we can't fight, survival first. But that idea evaporated fast.
Lights flicked on. Central console glowed. White drifted to it without hesitation, like follow.
"This vessel is the UNSS Covenant, Everest-class battleship #2, built by the UNSC under the UNDF with every resource poured in."
White declared confidently, proudly. I followed; monitors lit up like they'd been waiting. The center blazed bright in seconds.
"Designed for full operation even in worst-case scenarios, Admiral."
White settled at the central command tower. Her blue glow highlighted my chair clearly—like sit here. I climbed up slowly and sat. From the tower, the entrance and every station snapped into view. Familiar, comfortable—like home.
"Welcome aboard, Admiral. All systems nominal. Awaiting orders."
White hovered over an empty chair beside me, reporting quietly. Urging command.
I eyed her calmly, then faced forward. A translucent hologram floated ahead, showing the rough situation. I touched it cautiously—fingertip met a warm, glassy solidity. Wiggle, and the display responded fluidly.
"Still waiting on that answer from before?"
I rolled my stiff shoulders, turning to White. Hadn't heard back on Can we fight?
"Affirmative, Admiral."
White replied without pause, brimming with confidence. Her assurance eased something in me. Worst case, we die with the ship. But no fear of that. Major crisis, yet weirdly calm. Why?
"Prepare."
I gave the order.