Dark Matter - Chapter 17: Flagship of Humanity

A human ship confronts the AI vessel carrying Captain Fermi. Diplomacy or destruction awaits.

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👉 Read Chapter 1 – “Turing Test”

The control room of Aurora 1 felt too quiet… Not the kind of quiet that came with efficient work, but the brittle, airless quiet that made every sound magnified. A pen tapping on a console three stations back. The soft thud of a foot adjusting against the floor. Even the low hum of the environmental systems seemed too loud.

Dr. Cassandra Velasquez stood at the centre, hands loosely clasped behind her back, her eyes locked on the forward display. The AI ship hung there in the dark, slowly growing in the centre of the screen, framed by stars. And it was gradually taking recognisable shapes as it approached… Sharp-edged, precise.

Astronomy had taught Dr. Velasquez patience. She had spent nights on mountaintops waiting for a single faint flare from a star, months tracking a point of light until it resolved into a comet. But that patience had always been directed at things that did not care whether she was watching. This was different. This silence was not the absence of sound. It was the presence of something choosing to stay quiet.

A ship built to explore the silence of stars, she thought, and here we are, waiting for machines to speak.

She let her gaze flick briefly to the side displays. Aurora 2 and Aurora 3 held their positions in formation. Science ships, all of them. Ships that once carried the fine tools of discovery: delicate deep-space telescopes, probe deployment bays, greenhouses for biological samples. All gone now, stripped to make way for extra comms arrays, reinforced hull plates, and a few defensive systems no one believed would stop an attack.

Scholars in borrowed armour. That was what they were.

They were what Earth could send. After the disappearance of Troy 39 on its way to meet the unidentified alien ships, no one on the World Council had argued for another warship. Sending one would have been a death sentence. This time, they had sent something different: ships that looked less like a clenched fist and more like an open hand.

Whether the machines would see it that way was another matter.

Every passing minute brought them closer. Weeks ago, the fleet had closed enough distance for detailed scans, confirming what Earth had suspected to be a possibility from the start: not human-crewed, but not alien life either. The hull geometry and propulsion design bore the unmistakable lineage of human aerospace engineering. But the technology had advanced far beyond what humanity could still achieve.

Where the AI had come from was still a matter of speculation. Everybody thought AI was under control, no longer a threat. For decades! And why they were heading for Earth… that was the answer Velasquez needed before they arrived. She intended to get it here, in this stretch of deep space, before the encounter moved to Earth’s doorstep.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the dark silhouette ahead, replaying worst-case scenarios in her mind: first contact, hostile engagement, retreat. The silence from the AI ship pressed in around her, heavier than the vacuum beyond the hull.

The air on the control room had gone stale; she could taste the faint metallic tang of recycled oxygen. A chair creaked. Someone cleared their throat at the far sensor station. She didn’t look away from the forward display.

Finally, a soft chime broke the stillness.
From the starboard sensor station: “Energy profile shift detected!”

Dr. Velasquez turned her head sharply toward the display. Along the AI ship’s hull, a faint shimmer ran from bow to stern.

Commander Smith, her senior military advisor, leaned toward her, voice low. “This seems wrong. If…”

“If they wanted us gone, we’d be gone,” she said, eyes still on the shimmer.
The words landed flat and final, closing that line of thought.

The comms screen flickered. Static bloomed across its surface, patterns breaking and reforming until a shape began to resolve. Slowly, a human face took form in the haze.

And she knew it instantly!

Thinner, worn but otherwise exactly as in the last official recordings: the same sharp lines of the jaw, the same steady, dark eyes.

Around her, voices rose in disbelief.
“Is that…?”
“It can’t be.”
Someone swore softly.

Dr. Velasquez kept her tone level. “Hi, this is Cass.” And, without a pause, she proceeded to the question that she believed to already know the answer: “Who are you?”

“Hi, Cass. I’m Captain Nikos Fermi, formerly of Troy 39. You can call me Nikos.” He continued:

“I’m human. I’m alive. And I’m here of my own will.”

Her fingers moved on her personal device. She initiated the biometric check function to verify Captain Fermi’s identity against the incoming video stream on the main screen of the room. The signature protocol, one of humanity’s most secure identity safeguards. Based on audio and imagery, it measured vocal tones, heart rhythms, micro-muscle contractions, capillary pulses: a biological pattern unique to each person, stored in isolated files that no other AI could touch. She set it to reveal the answer on speaker once the check was complete.

The scan began, the red colour in a progress bar advancing across her private display. She didn’t wait for the result. “We believed you died with Troy 39,” she said.

Nikos met her gaze through the link. “Most days, I believed that too.” His voice was steady, with the kind of sincerity that didn’t need rehearsal.

“Signature matching complete,” her private device announced loudly on speaker, the news filling the room. “One hundred percent match to Nikos Fermi.”

The bridge exhaled all at once. Not applause, not celebration. Just the sound of dozens of people letting go of the same breath at the same moment. Dr. Velasquez allowed the corner of her mouth to lift. “It’s good to see another human face, captain.”

“And you, Cass,” he replied. “I imagine you have questions.”

She studied him carefully. The upright posture, the clear tone, the direct focus… no visible signs of injury or coercion. If he was under pressure here, he wasn’t showing it.

Dr. Velasquez leaned back slightly, her own voice smoothing into the precise cadence she used in council meetings and tense committees. “Then let’s start with why you’re there.”

Ready for the next chapter? Continue here:
👉 Chapter 18 - A Voice of Survival