Dead Star Dockyards

"Well Don, this is my stop."

The Calibration and its attached fleet had arrived at one of the numerous facilities located around the inner regions of the solar system. This one, a bit further out than most, is a research facility attached to the military.

"Up to this point you have only been taught theoretical knowledge and practiced in a somewhat controlled environment. From here on in, you'll find something that may have worked in simulations at the academy won't necessarily cut it in the field. Take care of yourself."

Doctor Helmsguard boarded one of the five transport craft aboard the Calibration armed with only a rolling suitcase and his favorite pillow. 'Military grade' pillows were bad enough for enlisted. He had been given special permissions to take his own in deference to his age.

"Thanks for everything, Doc. Do me a favor and lay off the psychedelics for a while, it's getting to the point where I feel like you'll OD. As much time as we were stuck with each other, I'd still like to be able to talk to you after my tour is up."

"Me too kid. Something tells me I'm not gonna live long enough anyways. A standard tour is ten years right?"

"Yeah. Two five-year patrols with six months of planetside in between. God willing I can catch up with you before my duty is up. Is there a will you want me to take care of?"

The man named Draco stood on the ramp, saddened by the thought of his death and his shoulders drooping. He had by no means lived an unfulfilling life, but he did have some concerns and tons of regret. He feared that if he passed then some things, like his treasured house, would fall to ruin.

One concern of his stood head and shoulders above everything else. In response to the question that was prompted by equal parts humor and concern, he only had one request.

"If by the time you return to Earth I am dead, please take care of Diana. I am the only thing resembling family she has left. She has proven herself to be self-sufficient, but I don't think she has much to work towards at this point. Not having parents hasn't helped. My death may prove fatal for her. Please, Donovan, if nothing else. Promise me you will protect her. Promise me you will protect my little angel."

This was a side of the Doctor he had never seen before. He looked weak, vulnerable. His eyes were pleading with Don, on the verge of tears. With this one thing had been made clear to Don.

He had only ever seen the Doctor, never had he seen Draco.

"I promise. If nothing else I can at least do that."

Even if he knew in his heart it might not be possible for Don to keep his word, he felt relief that he was at least willing to make the effort. A relief shown by the wry smile that signified the end of his unwillingness to die.

Saying nothing more, the elderly man entered the craft. As the door closed, he gave Don one last nod of approval.

- - - - -

A week had passed since the Doctor had left.

It was still amazing to him how the man he viewed to be so mentally strong as to warrant the nickname of 'Warden' was reduced to the shell he saw upon confrontation with his death.

No. It wasn't the confrontation of his own death. He knew that the Doctor was the type of man who had come to terms with the fact that he was going to die. He was afraid of what would happen to the only family member he had left should he die.

As much shit as he gave him, Draco Helmsguard was not one to make other's lives problematic if he could avoid it. This would obviously hold true for Diana as well.

In spite of all morals and relative human decency, Don still found himself thinking of some screwed up and questionable situations involving Diana.

Not all of them were of the erotic or romantic kind either, in fact most of them were outright depressing.

Among them included one where he arrived back from his tour of duty just in time to see her jump from the roof top. Some depicted her blaming him for her grandfather's death and not getting to spend time with him.

One particularly gruesome fantasy he had was him walking through the front door of his mentor's favorite house to find the bloated and decaying corpse of Diana hanging from the ceiling.

He had thrown up at that one.

Despite everything horrifying about this situation, one thing remained a constant.

He had basically no idea who Diana was. He somewhat remembered what she looked like, though that was three or so years ago at this point, but the lack of contact between the two meant that he had no idea about everything else.

Her personality was a mystery. He had an idea of what she did and didn't like thanks to the Doctor. He didn't know her contact number, hobbies, birthday, whether she had a pet, and the list went on. Don wasn't even aware of what she was studying either!

"Observation: There appears to be something bothering you Donovan. Would you care to see if I can help?" ARC, innocent as always, would have no idea what to do with what Don was struggling with.

"I was asked by the Doctor to look after his grand-daughter in the case of his death, but I know next to nothing about her. I can't help but wonder what will become of her if I can't understand her well enough TO help her."

"An interesting problem I am unable to give a solution to. I take it you are referring to Diana Helmsguard?"

Don gave a nod in response. He had been informed quite recently that ARC was beginning to be able to read body language effectively.

"In that case I may be able to provide assistance, even if a perfect solution eludes me. Are you aware I have limited access to the personal files of all members affiliated with my development? Diana Helmsguard falls under this purview by proxy of her connection to operator code 2-14, Draco Helmsguard."

The 'files' were not on the level of a government file on someone. There were no numbers indicating their bank accounts and ID. There was no record of criminal actions or major health events.

These files were meant to be the way that ARC determines how to act with and around people. ARC makes an active attempt to avoid subjects considered sensitive unless they are brought up. ARC also uses the information recorded within to determine whether or not something is 'off' about the person they are talking to, looking for changes in emotion and adding those reactions to their file.

Of the few hundred people ARC had a file for, operator code 0-0 Donovan Strauss was by far the largest. Most of the developers ARC interacted with kept their personal lives to themselves and for the most part maintained an air of professionalism, they didn't want another Skinnik. Don had been in almost constant contact with ARC for the better part of two months, initiating conversation and answering questions.

Most importantly, Don was no longer as reserved in his emotional responses.

So just as Don learned from ARC, ARC learned from Don. Developments in ARC's growth manifested themselves in somewhat abstract ways. Learning to read body language as a response to prompts was fairly normal in Don's eyes, even a socially inept person would be expected to understand those to at least some degree.

What was really weird were some of the ways ARC had learned to improve Don's mental state and mood.

ARC had learned to dim and change the color of the lights inside the cabin to best fit his state of mind. Requests for music always seemed to eventually turn to what he wanted to hear, and the temperature of the cabin was always just right.

His improved mood felt strange at first, but after asking ARC about it he learned that this was information that it had recorded on his file.

Knowing this, he had trust that any information ARC had on people was at least close to the truth if it wasn't dead on the mark.

"All information I have on her is second hand from characterization trainings. This information should not be inaccurate, though I cannot verify it as I have not yet interacted with her."

What followed was a conversation between two people about a third person who one of these people had never met and the other only had short and fleeting memories of interaction. They confirmed that she had golden blonde hair, a striking detail that Don could not forget and that ARC had filed as part of her physical profile. Among these physical characteristics, they confirmed that she had bright blue eyes, a predisposition towards black, grey, and yellow clothing, and a figure that could be described as 'fit' but not 'athletic'.

As for characteristics such as height and how her face looked, they simply could not tell. ARC was burdened by the fact that all of its information was second or even third hand. Don struggled with the fact that he last saw her a few years ago, and that meeting was barely an hour.

ARC confirmed that she was pursuing higher education in a medical field, but what specifically she was studying was still a mystery. In the same vein it was revealed that she was going to do work for the government upon graduation through both her deceased father and her grandfather's connections.

ARC opened the discussion on her interests with the disclaimer that this information could be wrong at this point. Interests and hobbies change, Don knew that.

"The vast majority of this information comes from Doctor Helmsguard. It is possible that she hides some of her interests out of shame or concern."

"If she does I can understand. I would imagine that the Doctor would pry about any less than savory activities in her daily life."

Her favorite animal is the fox. She likes ice cream, though her preferred flavor was never mentioned. She holds interest in older ages of history, especially the culture. She preferred modest clothing to the objectively skimpy trends of the day. She also seems to hold the ideas of purity and innocence in high regards.

ARC estimated this to mean that she would have extreme amounts of trouble finding a partner in the modern cultural climate, whose sexual culture was at the extreme end of promiscuity.

"So her standards are high. Got it."

Arc interjected at this point. "Labeling her romantic standards as 'high' seems unfair. They appear to be based on an older era's understanding of human interaction."

"How so?"

"Correct me if I am wrong, but the current climate is focused in large part around physical appearance and wealth. Is this an accurate summary?"

Don had to agree with this assessment. Despite ARC being incapable of feelings in the vein of 'attraction' thanks to the lack of processes simulating such organic behavior, it was quite accurate at determining what was and wasn't caused by them.

"In that case, the metrics she is concerned with are not on the level of appearance and wealth. What she could be judging a potential partner on could include stability, ability to protect, faithfulness, intellect, and mental fortitude, with any number of smaller variables included."

"Those standards still seem pretty high to me." Don felt his assessment still stood.

"That statement seems uncharacteristically arrogant of you."

'What? Did ARC just accuse me of being arrogant?' Was the immediate thought that ripped through Don's head.

"How was that arrogant? I was stating my opinion!" This was the first time he had raised his voice at ARC. It was not in anger but indignation.

"Explanation: While it may have been your opinion, the fact that you would be rated very highly in all of these attributes even by historical margins remains a fact. Any observer aware of this would interpret this as arrogance."

He was befuddled by this assessment. Even if true, would this not be viewed as humility? Was ARC missing something? Was HE missing something?

Sensing Don's confusion, ARC expounded further. "If someone who was in a position of power proclaimed it as a great feat and impossible task for most people, how would you view them? Conversely, if someone in a similar position stayed silent even though they thought the same thing, how would you view them?"

"In the first case they are an asshole and in the second they are just slightly less of an asshole."

"Your actions can be roughly compared to the first case."

Don didn't see it, and his body language signaled as such.

"I will once again put forth that you claim those standards to be high, yet fulfill them. It is an approximate parallel of arrogant behavior."

"How do I fulfill those standards then? I don't see it."

ARC wasted no time answering his question.

"Stability: Financially, you have a job that you are guaranteed to keep barring any abnormal incidents. The pay from one tour of duty will be more than enough for you to live in comfort for the rest of your life even if you must provide for a partner and children. Socially, your current position puts you in a relatively high position as well."

"That's new."

"Faithfulness: Your medical records indicate no previous sexual relationships, and your conversations with the Doctor seem to corroborate this. I also have testimony from you that you have yet to quote 'get a girlfriend'. Your commitment to becoming an elite pilot from a young age also shows promise that you will remain faithful to a partner should you ever become attached to one."

"I don't think that counts."

"Intellect: From your grades at the academy, it can be accurately assumed that you rank among the top percentile of all humans currently alive, you may not be considered the absolute pinnacle of intellectualism, but you are far more educated than the common man. Further analysis into actions during mock combat and simulated fleet battles describe a level of alertness and adaptability unusually higher than the norm."

"You live in that environment 24/7 and that happens."

"Ability to protect: While you are by no means the strongest person alive, not even approaching the top ten percent, you demonstrated a high level of proficiency in both martial arts and combat with weapons during the limited time spent in training. Combined with your situational awareness it is safe to assume you could protect her from the average criminal and safely evacuate her from a dangerous environment."

"I got my ass kicked repeatedly. I also don't think a criminal is going to give me the chance to fight back."

"Mental fortitude: You were noted for maintaining a cool head even during parts of combat simulation where things went out of your initial control. You have demonstrated in the past few week your ability to keep a strong mind in spite of drastically changing the ship parameters and minimal sleep."

"Once again I think that's a matter of circumstance."

"You dealt with a gruesome and intense regiment for ten standard years under the direct supervision of Doctor Draco Helmsguard for the majority."

ARC had him there. He could deny the rest, but he had felt every painful moment.

"If you remain unconvinced, perhaps I can put it this way.

The military is an outstanding example of bias in their selection processes, perhaps even a purer form of meritocracy than any other such system that has existed in the past. They are not interested in equity as that would not only result in more people dying, but would also increase the chance of defeat. They are therefore elitist not out of preference, but necessity. Would you agree on this much?"

Don nodded.

"These elite values have not changed much in human history, only a slightly more focused shift towards reaction time and intellect and away from aspects such as pure physical strength and martial prowess as technology advanced. Therefore it stands to reason that the same attributes that would make one considered an elite pilot during the era of the dogfight would still make one at least better than average in the modern day. Do you agree?"

Don nodded once more. This train of thought was logical.

"Those successful as combatants in that era are usually thought to have been successful. From the information we have at our disposal, we can infer that Diana is basing her standards on roughly the same values of that era. Assuming both of these are true, we can infer that you fulfill those standards. Knowing this, a staunch refusal that you qualify, even categorizing those standards as so high as to be unreasonable can only be seen as arrogance."

It made sense to Don. At least the way ARC put it, he could see how he could be seen as arrogant. "Alright, alright. You win. I plead ignorance. But really, calling me an elite? Since when did you get so good at flattery?"

"It was not flattery but the truth. There is no other qualifier than 'elite' that seems proper. In fact, labeling you as the elite of the elite might be more accurate. I was told this was a by product of the degree of isolation you received in your education, but your ignorance to your own ability is astonishing even after all this time."

"I'm that good? Surely I couldn't be classified as above the aces of old could I?"

"Your ability has the potential to place you amongst figures such as Erich Hartmann and Manfred von Richtofen. The combination of your skill, this ship's capability, and my computational and data analysis limits has the potential to leave a mark on naval history at the same level as the Monitor, The Dreadnought, The Enterprise, and The Immortal."

Don was silent. He was unfamiliar with the Monitor, Dreadnought, and Enterprise, but he knew that the Immortal was the first ship capable of space combat. If ARC's words were in good faith, something he had no reason to contest, then this was an incredibly large weight that had been placed on his shoulders.

"If you were not the elite of the elite, we would have never had the chance to meet. Have some confidence in your skill. It will reflect in your performance."

He had been beaten thoroughly. There was nothing he could say in response. "You would make a really good lawyer you know that?"

Don sat back in his seat, the lights dimming to match his closing eyes. There wasn't much to do out in the depths of space. Despite being docked in the bow hangar, the departure of his supervisor meant he was no longer allowed to leave. No one was allowed to enter either.

ARC was a secret. The ship was a secret. Everything was resupplied by use of the robotic apparatuses installed specifically for the ship. It was boring, but it was required for the mission.

Determining how long a person could remain in the ship without contact was important as it would be a factor in determining the ship's operational doctrine and design path.

Well, 'without contact' was a bit of a misnomer. Admiral Adirondack could get in touch with him, but only through digital message, the mark of which was a flashing purple light on the roof of the pilot pit.

"ARC, message from Adirondack. Looks like we're going to war."