[Backlog] Heuristic Drift Pt 2
Posted on 10 Jan 2026 @ 5:34pm by Lieutenant Aev Flammia
Edited on on 10 Jan 2026 @ 11:31pm
1,013 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Echoes of Blood
Location: Runabout Loire
Timeline: 2(ish) Weeks Previous
[Runabout Loire]
Six days into the journey to Corvanis, the routine had become second nature. Between them, Aev and Sam had broken the trip into three shifts: one each alone, and one shared. Though with Ignis constantly present, Aev sometimes wondered if solo truly existed anymore.
The long conversations and catching-up between him and Sam gradually gave way to quieter, more mundane exchanges. Time was filled instead with extended games of three-dimensional chess, usually against Ignis, occasionally against each other, and the small rituals that made the hours pass without notice.
During his solo shifts, Aev found himself increasingly drawn to old survey reports and archived logs detailing Corvanis’s abandoned mining operations. The data was dry, repetitive… and unsettling in its own way. Ignis, as always, hovered nearby, offering commentary, sometimes insightful, sometimes merely distracting. It was dangerously easy to forget that the hologram beside him wasn’t flesh and blood.
Dave’s warning echoed in Aev’s thoughts every day. More than once, he found himself wondering whether he should say something to Ignis, whether the AI had a right to know. Each time, he hesitated.
Aev glanced sideways at the figure seated in the copilot’s chair, animatedly dissecting a surveyor’s note about unusually rich iron deposits beneath Corvanis’s crust. Ignis gestured as he spoke, entirely absorbed.
Too absorbed, perhaps.
Aev turned his attention back to the console, releasing a quiet breath through his nose. After a moment, he looked up at the hologram next to him. “Ignis.”
The gravity in his tone cut through the hologram’s commentary at once. Ignis fell silent, his attention fully on Aev. “There’s something I need to tell you,” Aev continued, choosing his words carefully. “And I need your your analysis.” He paused, letting the moment settle. “Shortly after I returned to the Arawyn from the Newton, I received a message from Dave.” His gaze held steady on Ignis. “He informed me that two of the participants in the Lumeon Project have died. Their holobands were missing when they were found.”
Ignis went very still.
“Died,” he echoed, quietly. His eyes flickered as data aligned, calculations unfolding behind the calm. “Two participants, both holobands missing. That’s… statistically unlikely.”
He looked back at Aev. “Did Dave indicate cause of death? Or any sign the holobands were involved?” A brief pause, then, softer: “And do we know where the holobands are now?”
Aev shook his head. “The deaths were ruled natural, one from a fall, the other from a heart attack. The holobands themselves were never recovered.” His expression darkened slightly. “Starfleet Security is investigating the matter thoroughly.” He met Ignis’s gaze. “Based on what we know, how would you assess the situation? And how, if at all, does it relate to me, and my continued participation in the project?”
Ignis grew quiet again, his gaze drifting as internal models reconfigured. “Two natural deaths,” he said slowly. “Under normal circumstances, that would suggest coincidence. However, the disappearance of both holobands shifts the probability curve.”
He looked back at Aev. “The Lumeon Project was framed as adaptive support technology, but even the publicly accessible documentation implies broader intent. Rapid-deployment capability. Autonomous decision support. Battlefield resilience.”
A pause. “Those are not features designed solely for convenience.”
Ignis folded his hands together. “If the holobands were taken, it suggests the interest lies not in the participants, but in the technology’s application. Tactical use would make the devices valuable, especially to parties seeking Starfleet-level capabilities without Starfleet oversight.”
“As for you,” he continued, voice measured, “your relevance stems from continued exposure and operational experience. You are a live test case. That makes you more visible than the others were.” He hesitated, just briefly. “There is still no evidence that I, or the holobands, can directly cause harm. Any such function would contradict my core constraints.”
Then, more quietly: “But tools designed for tactical environments are rarely neutral. Their danger lies in how they are used… and by whom. You are not in immediate danger. But the context around you has changed.”
“It has, hasn’t it?” Aev said, a faint, uncertain smile touching his lips as he glanced back to the readouts scrolling across the console. “According to the nav plot, we’re just two days out from Corvanis.” He let the subject settle there, deliberately steering away from Dave’s message.
“And for the record,” he added, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone, “I’m starting to tire of listening to you and Sam argue about chess.”
Ignis’s mouth curved into a familiar, infuriating smile. “Argue?” he said lightly. “Lieutenant, that implies there’s uncertainty. Sam insists on calling it chess. I maintain it’s an elaborate exercise in probability denial.”
He glanced back at the console, then at Aev. “Besides, two days out means she’ll switch from competitive to strategic. You should prepare yourself.”
A bit softer he added: “As for Corvanis… I’ll try not to distract you. Much.”
Sam’s head poked into the cockpit, hair tousled and stubbornly refusing to obey gravity, one sleeve half-pulled on as if she’d given up mid-effort.
“What’re we talking about?” she asked, blinking against the console lights. “Because I heard my name, and statistically that means Ignis was saying something rude.”
Ignis didn’t even look guilty. “Incorrect. I was being accurate.”
Sam squinted at him. “That’s worse.”
Aev glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We’re two days out from Corvanis.”
That seemed to wake her fully. She leaned against the doorway, rubbing at one eye. “Already? Huh.” Then she frowned at Ignis. “And what was the other part?”
Ignis smiled sweetly. “I was explaining why your chess strategy collapses under pressure.”
Sam straightened instantly. “Oh, you did not-”
Aev sighed, long-suffering but amused, as the familiar cadence of their bickering filled the cockpit once more, distracting, and just enough to keep the unease at bay for another day.
= To be continued =
Lieutenant Aev Flammia
Chief of Security
USS Arawyn
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