Iaram's words had gotten stuck in my mind. What was I supposed to be to my crew? Not a distant judge whose actions had to be accepted without ever hearing the reasoning behind them; I had been given the ability to speak after all. More than that, even: I had been given bodies that were modeled after humans. Bodies which could be touched, with which I could move about my Greater Self, with which I ate the same food and breathed the same air as my crew. It was almost silly how much the Mezhained notion of what a deity was supposed to be like differed from the ones I knew from my previous life. Surely, understanding why I had avatars that functioned so much like human bodies would help me answer my question. As luck would have it, I could ask someone religious and knowledgeable about this.

The two avatars I had used to lift Pylon eleven's upper mantle during my first battle were both sitting down with their arms out of their sockets. Cables ran from the arms to the sockets, providing me with sensory input, but not the ability to freely move them. Nirumagne and Soshannem were busy replacing the half molten palm segments on one pair, while Lennaivu was refurbishing the other pair. The Contract Writer had meticulously laid them out in such a way as to give him the access he needed without taking off the dangling talismans. Though I was certain he did not truly believe in malicious, vaporous entities, he did not tread on the beliefs of those that did. He had probably hung one there himself, believing it did another kind of magic. In a way I felt a little thankful that he wished me all the best in my insane new life.

"I just undermined the authority of an officer."

Lennaivu barely looked up, keeping most of his attention on the replacement of my secondary's damaged actuators, but I could sense he knew I had questions.

I continued. "There were four enlisted who were about to get into trouble if I hadn't covered for them."

"You lied to the officer?" Lennaivu asked without looking up.

"It wasn't really that. I told him I condoned their actions."

"I take it they weren't doing anything particularly heinous." He plugged in a brand new contractor ribbon.

I felt it slide and lock into place and stifled a whimper, the smoothness of the action proving more pleasing than I anticipated. "I-it was nothing. Enlisted Guruiel is a very tall man, you see, and he had picked me up in his arm—"

"Ehhh???" Soshannem stared slack-jawed at the secondary I just said that with, even though she could've just as easily directed her consternation at the me right in front of her. "He picked you up just like that??"

I frowned with both my secondaries present there. "My avatars aren't all that heavy, you know," I said through the one addressed.

"No, your radiance, it's just that it's—" She seemed to struggle to find the right words, and unable to find the right words she muttered the informal words under her breath. "Adorable. Cute."

Nirumagne who had said nothing so far looked up at Soshannem. "You want to pick her up?"

Soshannem looked back at her, unable to speak for a few long seconds, long enough for Lennaivu to save her from the embarrassment of answering. "If nothing happened that you disapproved of then that's that," he said. "Unless there's more to it that you don't want to divulge."

There wasn't much I wanted to divulge, but I felt could elucidate just a tiny bit more. "The enlisted were causing a disturbance and the officer had come over to investigate." And then the floodgates opened. ''Oh, but I had already told them to go back to work, but then Guruiel took too long to put me down because I guess he and his friends weren't in a hurry. Anyway, I feel like I've undermined the established hierarchy and I don't know if this is how I'm supposed to treat my crew." My rambling ended with nervous laughter. I was ready to accept any ridicule that would come my way.

Soshannem stared wide-eyed at the secondary she was working on, looking like she couldn't believe that a Vugni would ask a human for advice. She also had stopped doing her work. How annoying.

Nirumagne kept going at her task, but I could tell from the tiniest movement of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, the flutter of her lashes that she, too, thought I was strange.

Thankfully, Lennaivu thought otherwise. He nodded in understanding, gentle smile on his lips. "How fortunate that I get to witness a young Vugni's first days, where she has questions her knowledge tree can't answer but that I can with ease." He finished installing another contractor strip; the slide and click causing me to bite my lip. "The simple answer is that you made the correct choice." Another slide and click. "But be aware that there were likely multiple correct choices. You could've just as easily allowed the officer to mete out whatever punishment he saw fit and reasonable. As long as you led them on a course that strengthened their characters you fulfilled one of your duties as their Ship."

I felt relief ease some of the worries that were in the back of my mind. There was room for questions about the world and what I was. Seeing a setting come together with each new page you read was one of the appeals of sci-fi and fantasy novels, but was rather stressful when it was your reality and you were expected to operate in it from day one. My knowledge tree was useful sometimes but just as often resulted in a summing up of facts without understanding. Thank goodness this newborn was allowed to be a little ignorant.

"But isn't rank important in the navy?" I asked emboldened by the knowledge that I didn't have to mask my curiosity in front of the Contract Writer. "How can the navy keep running if its hierarchy breaks down?"

"But did it break down?" With a fine, little, pointed tool he tested the refurbished actuators in my left arm. It was a little jarring to have it move without my command but I reveled in the smoothness of its operation.

"I-it did not. I just question the decision of having someone whose age is measured in days usurp the authority of those who've earned their position." I tried to suppress a trembling down my secondary avatar's spine and failed. A curious stare from Soshannem lasted until she noticed the glare from my other secondary from the corner of her eye. Soon enough she was back to work.

Lennaivu responded with the chuckle befitting a master from some vague zen koan. "You have more wisdom in you than you believe." With an expert's hand he aligned the two halves of my forearm's covering and snapped them together without getting any of the talismans' chains in between. My response to that was a clumsy whimper.

"Seeing as I'm not privy to the circumstances of the event discussed," he continued, "I can only speculate as to why you came to your decision." His trained hands began fastening my forearm covering with simple screws. I would've pondered the existence of this technology in the far flung future more if the sensation coupled with their application hadn't been so wonderful that I couldn't suppress the projection of a blush on my cheeks. "Perhaps you sought to strengthen their bonds, not only with you but amongst themselves as well. Keeping your crew harmonious is another form of maintenance after all."

"Bonds?" I could see where he was coming from. After dissolving the crowd blocking traffic in the passageway my main worry changed to the wellbeing of Guruiel and his friends, though there was no conscious effort from me to manipulate them into becoming my friends. What then had motivated me? My duty as their Vugni? "As a Warship I shelter my crew and I fight for them, but I don't feel like that's enough to support my side of our bond. I... want to be nice?"

Lennaivu laughed, jovial and friendly. "You wish to be the nice Warship?"

There was a twinge of disappointment when he unplugged my arm from the extension cables, sensation disappearing abruptly.

"Is that a bad thing to be?" I asked. "Should I be more strict?"

"I doubt you're lacking in strictness, but allow me to continue this conversation after giving you your arm back." With a chorus of jingles he picked up the arm and lifted it up to the shoulder socket where he plugged it in directly. "Hold on." With my arm reconnected I could feel the joint pushed back in where it belonged with a ratchet and click. After making sure it was fastened properly he let go with a carefulness befitting the one in charge of keeping the Fae Matter in check.

I experienced the automated self test like a burst of whistling, colored particles imploding into a yellow 'ting'. My fingers and hand started moving in a predetermined sequence that felt like an instinct from my deepest subconscious, control of the limb returning in ligaments of diffuse light in the dark. The self test concluded and I could add the results to my mind in a dry recitation of numbers. Of course I declined to do so. There was no need when I felt all was good. I swung my arm up and extended the spur from my wrist, delighting in the light and effortless movement.

"Uwah, her spurs are even bigger than ours!" Soshannem again.

I glared at her and spoke through the avatar she was supposed to be working on. "Looks like I'm strict with enlisted who keep getting distracted from their work!"

A shrill note escaped Soshannem's throat and she jerked back, unsure for a moment where to put her hands.

Lennaivu hid laughter behind his fist. "When you two are done with her hands I will show how to replace the actuators in her arms."

"I have finished," Nirumagne announced with no fanfare.

"Hah, then you can help out Soshannem."

With a blush and some quiet grumbling the easily distracted redhead scooted over to allow Nirumagne a spot beside her.

Behind Lennaivu's eyes I could see his fondness for the two. It was the fondness of a master who had scouted two new promising talents. Under his tutelage they would grow to be competent engineers, perhaps even be allowed to join the Illustrious Siblings of the Korremzha Mil Vugni: the Custodians of the Wandering Suns, keepers of technological and scientific secrets that they'd defend with their lives to prevent them from falling into the hands of foreign powers. I certainly sensed their potential, more so in Nirumagne than Soshannem, but they were closer in ability than they at first appeared to a lay observer.

"Those two," Lennaivu's tone was almost like that of a parent. "Now where were we?" His position shifted to face my one-armed avatar. "Strictness, if I recall correctly. As I was telling you—and as you have demonstrated—you are quite capable in that regard." He began setting out tools and components in preparation of my right arm's repair. "In fact, you should be capable in everything that matters for a Warship because your mental predecessor was selected for it. That is why us Mezhained will never doubt the wisdom of your judgement, no matter how young you are."

I sat up a little straighter. "Tell me more about mental predecessors."

The abruptness of my request didn't faze him at all. He pivoted to the new topic with the ease that came with his talent for teaching. "When us Illustrious Siblings and the navy's high officers use oneiromantic sessions to connect to Vatugnem—the beginning of the extraphenomanal region that exists away from regular space—we sometimes leave impressions of our thoughts and emotions. These are not full copies of our souls, mind you, but it is possible to use them as templates for the creation of new beings with human-like souls that share personality traits with the original dreamer. We can even selectively amplify or mute the traits. That is how we create you Vugni."

I was positively giddy with anticipation. The answers were so close. "Can I get to know more about my mental predecessor? Who was she?"

"Unfortunately..." Lennaivu scratched the back of his head. The regret that he couldn't answer that eager question was stamped on his face. "Memory retrieval is virtually impossible and it's extremely hard to keep track of which impressions belong to which dreamer. In the many thousands of years since us Mezhained started practicing oneiromancy there have been countless dreamers. Rest assured, though, dear Ship, that your mental predecessor wasn't chosen at random. Whoever she was, did not lack in the necessary traits and abilities that will make you a celebrated Warship."

My shoulders slumped and the gold in obsidian pools of my eyes turned elsewhere. "I see," I said, voice deflated.

In the minutiae of his expressions I sensed an emotion that none had dared feel for me before: pity. "The path you will take is not determined by your mental predecessor. If you still have questions about what kind of Ship you could be, I'd advise you to ask one of your sisters." His voice carried the hope that I would take this advice. He was completely unaware of the larger issue.

"Thank you," I said with a polite smile while my mind reeled with the implications.

Mental predecessors could not be older than the first oneiromantic rituals performed by the Mezhained thousands of years ago. But my memories had to be far far older. My memories were impossible.

I was impossible.