“Are you the one calling for help?” Danilo asked, feeling foolish.

“Who are you?” the voice asked, unmistakably coming from the cube.

“My name is Danilo Jovanović,” Danilo answered, still approaching slowly. Before he could identify himself further the Cube spoke again.

“Where am I?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified,” Danilo said automatically. “What are you? Some sort of computer?”

“I … am not sure,” the Cube said. “Something is wrong. I need—” the voice trailed off and the terminal went dark.

“What do you need?” Danilo asked, but received no response. He circled the Cube a few times, prodded at it with his gloved hand, and eventually shrugged before turning to leave. He’d report the incident to his supervisor. A lot of the equipment down there had been hastily designed and poorly built. In fact, during orientation he’d been warned that although they didn’t think there was anything dangerous down there, he should suspect strange things to happen.

“Looks like a glitch from some old bit of—”

“I need Wolfe.” The voice came back strong as the lights on the display surged, stopping Danilo in his tracks. “I think … I think Wolfe knows what I am.” With that the display went dark again and no amount of poking or prodding would elicit another response.

“Could it possibly mean Jackson Wolfe, the starship captain?” Danilo asked himself. “I’m pretty sure he might be dead.”

****

“Senior Captain, it’s an honor—”

“It’s just Mr. Wolfe now,” the man said as he was escorted into the Archives. He was thin, almost slight of build, and of average height. “Just call me Jackson.”

“Of course, Cap—Mr. Wolfe,” one of the ubiquitous civil administrators sniveled. “Would you care to tour the upper levels of the Archive, sir? We have an extensive collection of imagery from the Battle of Nuovo Patria.”

“No … thank you.” Jackson visibly shuddered at the memory of the bloody and costly battle. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just like to see what was so important I had to fly all the way from Earth to New Sierra to see it. The summons was unnecessarily vague.”

“You know how Fleet Security is, Captain,” a new voice said from the stairs behind Jackson. “Secrets for the sake of secrets.”

“Admiral Pitt?!” Jackson asked in shock and genuine joy the slightest whine from his prosthetic leg could be heard as he turned quickly. “I thought you bought the farm on Haven.”