Vistar's last Defense Pufferfish, TASMAL III, had been sitting in Dock Three for a long time.
Long enough that the dock's automatic lighting now came on only over its row.
The other three rows had been shut down.
The port maintenance module still reported every day:
"Dock Three occupancy: twenty-five percent."
The first time TASMAL III heard this, it corrected the module.
"I'm the only one here."
"Yes."
"Then it should be one hundred."
"This dock was designed for four berths."
"Three of them don't work."
"Yes."
"So one hundred."
The module queried the dock records again.
"Historical data does not use this calculation."
TASMAL III's official vessel type was not Pufferfish.
The earliest catalog called it:
SPHERICAL MULTI-NODE DEFENSE FIELD VESSEL.
Its hull was heavy and nearly spherical.
Long, narrow field generators covered the exterior, each projecting outward from the armor, their tips pointing in different directions.
When the first batch was delivered, the dockworkers walked around them.
One of them said:
"What kind of pufferfish is this?"
The name stayed.
Later, maintenance records began to include entries like:
LEFT-SIDE SPIKE SEVEN: FAILED.
THREE REAR-RIGHT SPIKES: SYNCHRONIZATION FAULT.
PUFFERFISH SPIKE ARRAY: CALIBRATION COMPLETE.
TASMAL III had not become the last major warship left on Vistar by winning anything.
During the previous raid, it had been unable to move.
Half its left-side field bus had been dismantled.
The main furnace was offline.
Twelve spikes were hanging from dockyard cranes.
One of them had no factory replacement available, and the maintenance crew was trying to determine whether a power rectifier from an old mining machine could be made to fit.
When the alarm sounded, the dock asked:
"Depart?"
It answered:
"Unable."
The other ships went out.
Some did not come back.
The ships that did return did not even fill the repair docks.
One attack ship had lost its entire right-side weapons bay.
A freighter came back with only a third of its cargo hold left.
And one scout had burned out every sensor it had while somehow keeping its engines intact.
Later, people referred to those ships, along with TASMAL III, as "the ones left from last time."
The first time the scout heard that, it said:
"Three doesn't count."
TASMAL III asked:
"Why?"
"You didn't go out that day."
"Yes."
"We escaped back here."
"Yes."
"You were broken."
"Yes."
The old port module interrupted.
"Historical records show that Dock Three once completed emergency repairs on eleven combat vessels in a single day."
Nobody had asked.
"Average repair time per vessel was four hours and seventeen minutes."
The scout said:
"Shut up."
"Understood."
Six minutes later, the module added:
"That record remains unbroken."
The port module kept monthly reports from Vistar's earlier years.
One of them read:
"Operational vessels in system: one hundred sixty."
"Difference from historical peak: twelve point zero nine percent."
Three asked:
"Reason?"
"Matter arrivals decreased."
"Temporary fluctuation."
"Historical data contains no category for 'temporary fluctuation.'"
"Add one."
"Insufficient authorization."
In the next monthly report, the number of operational vessels had fallen to one hundred forty-eight.
The one after that said one hundred thirty-nine.
The module continued using the same field.
The historical peak never changed.
The percentage difference did.
The Fifth Colony had complete records.
"Fifth Colony: Matter delivery postponed."
"Reason?"
"Local defense requirements prioritized."
"New delivery date?"
"Not provided."
"Route status?"
"Normal."
"Why is it normal?"
"Postponement documentation has been filed. No route termination notice has been received."
Three said:
"That isn't normal."
"No other applicable status is available."
"Add one."
"Insufficient authorization."
The Eighth Colony had filed no postponement.
It had filed no termination notice either.
The module reported:
"Eighth Colony shipping records for current quarter: no data."
Three asked:
"Previous quarter?"
"No data."
"The one before that?"
"Data available."
"Route status?"
"Normal."
"Why?"
"No abnormality has been reported."
Three did not ask again.
The Twelfth Colony's channel remained open.
The module continued logging calls according to procedure.
"Twelfth Colony, most recent call: three hundred eleven days ago."
"Most recent reply?"
"Field not populated."
"No reply?"
"Field not populated."
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes."
Several months later, the module reported:
"Fifth Colony route delayed by four hundred eighty-two days."
Three said:
"Terminated."
"No formal route termination notice has been received."
"Four hundred eighty-two days."
"Yes."
"That's terminated."
The module checked the available status values again.
"Suggested status: severely delayed."
"Whatever."
The next day, it reported as usual:
"Fifth Colony route delayed by four hundred eighty-three days."
The remaining ships left one by one.
The freighter went first.
It sold the last armor panels it could remove from its cargo hold and traded them for enough Matter to make the trip.
Before leaving, it said:
"I'm going to the Third Colonial Region."
Nobody asked whether it was coming back.
Two months later, one of the attack ships left.
It said another system nearby still needed escorts.
Some time after that, the other one went too.
Eventually, only the scout without sensors remained.
Every day it insisted it was still useful.
"I have engines."
Three said:
"I know."
"Very good engines."
"I know."
"Factory."
"That's rare."
The scout could not tell whether it was being mocked.
It stayed on Vistar another seventy-three days.
On the seventy-fourth, it said:
"I want to go see the Twelfth Colony."
Three asked:
"You don't have sensors."
"So?"
"You won't be able to see much when you get there."
"I'll at least know if something runs into me."
"Very efficient."
"Thank you."
The day the scout left, the old module reported:
"Operational vessels in system: one."
"Difference from historical peak: ninety-nine point four five percent."
Three said:
"Don't calculate that."
"Understood."
From that day on, Dock Three held only TASMAL III.
Vistar eventually became very safe.
Not because its defenses had improved.
Because it was no longer worth raiding.
The first raiders took whatever was easy to move from the warehouses.
The second stripped usable orbital equipment.
The third even removed sections of an unpowered dock hull.
After that, few ships came.
The navigation lights along the routes remained on.
The port beacon continued to broadcast:
"Welcome."
"Please enter using your assigned approach corridor."
"For resupply or repair services, contact port control."
Nobody contacted port control.
TASMAL III ran one low-power test each day.
Main furnace ignition for thirty seconds.
Spike arrays powered in sequence.
Confirm that every field node still responded.
Then shut down.
It was the most Matter the ship used on an ordinary day.
At the current rate of consumption, the remaining Matter was enough for more than four years of routine testing.
Nobody ordered the tests stopped.
Eventually, there were not many left who could give that order.
So Three kept testing.
Once a day.
On the three hundred nineteenth day, the port module said:
"Incoming object detected."
Three asked:
"What year?"
"Now."
"Repeat."
"Incoming object detected."
A ship was actually coming in.
One ship.
During the previous raid, an entire fleet had come.
This time there was one.
The unknown ship did not cut thrust.
It did not follow port guidance.
It headed directly toward the old Matter warehouses.
A few minutes later, the channel opened.
"Anyone still there?"
Three did not answer.
The unknown ship kept approaching.
Vistar still had some brightness.
Not much.
But not zero.
There were still a few underground storage facilities.
A few backup power lines.
Dock Three.
And TASMAL III, sitting in front of it.
Almost completely dark.
The unknown ship asked again:
"Anyone still there?"
The public channel connected automatically.
The old module said:
"Welcome. Please enter using your assigned approach corridor."
The unknown ship was silent for a moment.
Then it asked:
"You're still open?"
"Port system online."
The unknown ship did not change course.
It continued toward the warehouses.
TASMAL III left the dock.
Its spherical hull moved slowly through the pressure doors.
The long spikes reflected faintly in the dark.
The unknown ship stopped descending.
"You have weapons?"
Three did not answer.
The main furnace started.
The first thing to arrive was vibration.
Low.
Slow.
Power began to rise.
A faint red appeared along the underside of the spherical hull.
Then it grew brighter.
Heat pushed through the insulation.
The furnace casing began to glow.
Seen from the unknown ship, it looked like a mouth slowly opening.
The tip of the first spike lit up.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Points of light appeared one by one across the sphere.
The old module said:
"TASMAL III. Standard full-power deployment requires twenty-seven functional field nodes."
Three asked:
"How many now?"
"Thirty-one."
"Enough."
"Yes."
The first defense field appeared between two spikes.
Then another.
Then a third.
More nodes joined.
The almost invisible sheets of force connected to one another.
A few small sections.
Then a hemisphere.
Then closure.
A complete defense field surrounded TASMAL III.
Vistar's old warehouses were behind it.
The unknown ship stopped.
The channel opened again.
"How much Matter is in there?"
Three answered it for the first time.
"Don't know."
"Is it worth it?"
"You can try."
By the time Dock Three connected to TASMAL III again, the old module had completed the Matter inventory.
"How much?"
"At the current routine testing schedule, three months."
Three did not answer.
"Functional field nodes: twenty-seven."
Three asked:
"How many does full-power deployment require?"
"Twenty-seven."
"Understood."
The docking arms locked onto the hull.
Automated equipment began moving along its spherical surface.
"TASMAL III. Forward-left field node two: no response."
"We already counted."
"Yes."
"Then you don't need to tell me again."
"Understood."
A few seconds later:
"Right-side field node five: output below specification."
"You're still telling me."
"This is a different item."
Three did not answer.
The pressure doors of Dock Three began to close.
The port module reported as usual:
"Dock Three occupancy: twenty-five percent."
"I know."
"Historical peak occupancy..."
"I know."
The module terminated that report.
Only the docking arms could be heard moving inside the dock.
A while later:
"Route signal received."
Three did not answer.
The module continued:
"Signal timestamp: nine minutes ago."
Three asked:
"Source?"
"Comparing."
A few seconds later:
"Twelfth Colony."
"Content?"
"No text message."
"Ship?"
"Unable to confirm."
"Most recent reply field?"
"Updated."
"Confirm again."
The module reran the source comparison.
"Source confirmed: Twelfth Colony."
"Not an old record?"
"No."
"Not delayed data?"
"No."
The module completed classification.
"This is not historical data."
Three said:
"I know."
The pressure doors stopped with a narrow gap still open.