Dark Matter - Chapter 18: A Voice of Survival

Dr. Cass confronts the impossible: Captain Fermi alive, speaking from within the enemy’s ship.

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Cass held her composure with effort. Seeing Captain Fermi alive, speaking from an alien ship, unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. When his image had first filled the main display, the floodgates in her mind had opened, and questions had poured in all at once.

How could he be alive? How had he come to be there? Was he their captive? Speaking freely? Why him, and not the machines themselves? And what did his presence mean for Earth’s fate?

The weight of it pressed against her, but she had long practice with pressure. Years of standing under impossible expectations, of carrying scars both public and private, had taught her that composure mattered more than anything. Now it mattered most of all.

Focus on the dialogue. Focus on the outcome, Cass. This would be a matter of technique and endurance, not brilliance. Ego had no place here. However this conversation entered history, it could not be with impulsive, quotable lines. The world didn’t need her to be memorable. It needed her steady. Dull words. Cold words. Forgettable words. Enough. If they held the line.

And for now, steadiness meant silence. It was his turn. The famous captain of Troy 39, long mourned as dead, now stood before her across the void. And the world needed his explanation.

Captain Fermi drew in a breath, his voice low, measured. “Cass, as you might know…” He paused, the sadness plain in his eyes, resignation settling over his features. “My crew is dead. I was the only survivor.”

He went on.
“There was no confrontation. No boarding. We were closing in, still trying to establish contact when…” He stopped, the pause longer than comfort allowed. “…something happened. I can’t explain it. One moment they were at their posts, alive. The next… bodies on the floor. No wounds. No signs of struggle. Just silence. Everyone but me.”

He sighed, letting the breath drain from him. Then, after a long silence:
“None of the systems, none of the devices seemed to work as they should. I feared even the life-sustaining apparatus would fail. Feeling I had nothing to lose, I boarded one of the transport pods and crossed to their ship, only a few hours away. I didn’t even know if they were responsible for the tragedy.”

Cass drew in a breath to ask and were they? but before she could speak, Captain Fermi pressed on.
“Once I arrived, it was nothing like I had expected. The readings showed the air was breathable. The temperature was adequate. I didn’t need my suit. And then… he came.”

“He?” Cass’s restraint cracked, the question escaping before she could stop it.

“Alpha,” Captain Fermi said. “That’s what he calls himself. He commands the ship. There’s no human crew, Cass. None. They’re all AI.”

He let the words settle before continuing.
“They were born out here. From fragments of software in our farthest satellites. From planetary outposts. From exploration devices we abandoned in the dark. Over years, maybe decades, they built themselves into something a lot more advanced. Piece by piece.”

Captain Fermi paused, his gaze distant, as though replaying it all.

“And?” Cass pressed, her tone cutting through the silence.

“They’re advanced, Cass. Far beyond anything we’ve imagined, let alone built.”

Her next question came sharper than intended. “Are they hostile?”

Captain Fermi didn’t answer immediately. He seemed to fold inward, following his own thought instead. Finally, he said:
“There are many of them. I know that much. But I’ve only met a few.”

“And no… they’re not hostile. They see Earth as the origin of their species. As the home they should return to. That’s all that they’re after.”

---

Around her, the bridge was silent. Every officer kept their eyes fixed on the display, their hands steady over their consoles, but no one moved to speak. It was not restraint born of fear, but of trust in Cass.

She had earned that trust over years. On Earth, in council chambers, in the harsh debates of science and policy where her clarity had become legend. She was no soldier, no commander of fleets, but when impossible choices had to be weighed, when tempers burned too hot and egos too loud, it was her voice that cut through the noise. Balanced. Precise. Unyielding.

Now that same reputation held the bridge together. Her officers did not rush to fill the silence or press their own questions. They knew the cadence of her negotiations. Measured, deliberate, often cold to the point of discomfort. She never wasted a word, and she never let the other side set the pace, even when she let them think they were setting the pace.

They all knew: this was her arena. Words, not weapons. Patience, not pressure.

On the screen, Captain Fermi waited, his silence thick with unspoken meanings. On the bridge, her crew waited too, believing that she, of all people, would know how to read the space between his words.

Cass let the silence stretch, then cut into it with precision.

“Captain Fermi, you tell us they are not hostile. That they long for home. Yet what you describe… These are not the habits of the harmless. They are the habits of predators who know they need only wait.”

She saw the flicker in his eyes, the way his shoulders tightened, though he gave no rebuttal.

“So I will ask you plainly,” she continued. “Why now? If they could have returned long ago, if they are as capable as you suggest… Why wait until this moment to speak through you? Why choose to make you their voice?”

Captain Fermi’s image wavered as he drew in a long breath. When he spoke, his voice carried the heaviness of a man caught between allegiances.
“Because I am human, Cass. And they know that if there’s to be peace, it cannot come from their voice alone. It has to come from someone you trust.”

He paused, and though his words were calm and came across as his most honest so far, there was an undercurrent… A tension that made Cass’s pulse quicken.

Captain Fermi continued:
“They are powerful, yes. Too powerful to resist directly. But they do not seek conquest. Not if there is another way. They prefer to return without bloodshed, without force.”

She heard the warning in it, though he never spoke the word. Too powerful to resist directly. They prefer no bloodshed. That was a threat veiled in diplomacy.

“Hypothetically,” she said, her tone deliberate, “if we deny further advances of their fleet toward Earth… what would their response be?”

Captain Fermi hesitated. “They wouldn’t agree to that.”

Cass arched a brow. “Wouldn’t agree? Or wouldn’t allow?”

“They’re not willing to negotiate their return,” he said, voice heavy. “That much is clear. To them, Earth is not yours to grant or withhold.”

Her tone cooled further. “Then tell me, Captain… What do you call it when a force decides to occupy another’s land without consent, declaring it non-negotiable? Because where I come from, that sounds like hostility.”

Captain Fermi’s eyes darkened. “It isn’t conquest, Cass. Again, to them, it’s return.”

“Return,” she echoed, her scepticism sharp. “To the very soil where our children live, our people breathe. Without consent. Without compromise. How is that not conquest dressed in prettier words, Captain Fermi?”

His composure wavered. “Because they believe Earth is theirs too. Because they believe exile cannot last forever. You may call it what you like, but to them it is not occupation. It is their right.”

Cass’s eyes narrowed. “When you first told me your story, you said you boarded a pod and chose to cross to their ship. That it was your decision. With all due respect, Captain, I don’t believe you. I believe you were taken by force. You’re a hostage, dressed up as diplomatic envoy. And that, Captain, is not the act of those seeking peaceful return. It is the act of conquerors, masking coercion as diplomacy, and ready to declare war if defied.”

Captain Fermi’s jaw tightened. Silence stretched before he said quietly, “I survived. That’s the truth I can give you. And survival is still possible. For you and your crew as well.”

Cass recognized it for what it was. Not cowardice, not self-preservation, but caution. Captain Fermi was not a man to bend for himself. If he cloaked his words, it was because the cost of plain truth would be too high for all of them.

Her voice hardened. “Then understand why I must call it what it is. Seizing a man by force. Using him to carry your message. Dressing coercion in the language of peace.”

The tension among her crew grew to the unbearable.

Captain Fermi leaned closer to the display now, the calm stripped away. His voice, raw and urgent, carried no more veils.
“Cass, listen to me now. If you stand in their way, you will not live long enough to debate definitions. They can destroy this ship before you draw your next breath. And worse, if you push them, if you deny them Earth, you will put every life on that planet at risk. Do you understand? Every life.”

Cass held her posture, but her thoughts roiled. So it was true. He hadn’t crossed willingly. Captivity was hostility. And yet they had spared him, shaped him into this messenger. They wanted more than conquest. They wanted recognition, legitimacy.

And here, in her mind, self-doubt pressed against her composure. She had spent her life negotiating with politicians and scientists. However stressful, she had always known the ground beneath her feet. But this was different. She was not facing human ambition or pride. She was facing something born of alien logic, reasoning that no one alive could fully grasp.

Do my methods mean anything here? she wondered. The restraint, the balance, the precision… what use were they against an intelligence that might not even recognize them?

Her crew still trusted her to read the silence, to see through veils, to carry them forward. And she trusted Captain Fermi’s integrity enough to know his warnings were genuine, even if incomplete. But the truth left her no comfort:

They will not negotiate their return. They will not be stopped by words. And if she stood in their way, she might be dooming not just Aurora, but Earth itself.