The Narcoleptic Spaceship

Isolde held her hands clenched under her throat, gazing through the starport viewer. Briash Orbital Starport lived up to its reputation. Why, she’d have sworn the view was through glass, not a viewscreen, but it may have been her suspiciously bright eyes that improved and perhaps blurred the view.

Adrenaline shuddered through her chest again. Years of scrimping had made it possible, and even then, she held her secret doubts. And yet there it was, the misnomered Rat-Runner, gleaming dull silver.

She sucked in another breath and got moving toward the port docks, shrugging her leather bag higher up on her shoulder. A home to put that bag, with all the possessions she had left; jumpsuits, her reader and datapads, the few knick-knacks that had survived after the crash. She’d sold everything for the journey here. All she needed was the ship’s promise to hold up and it’d be her new home, dents and all. Leo had indicated plenty of room on the pelican-class, and the virtual holos supported it.

Now all she had to do was make it hers, without getting ripped off. Leo wasn’t trustworthy, exactly, but he wasn’t cutthroat, either. The price was too good, and eerily close to what she could afford when repairs, port fees, and supply were factored into the mix.

And yet he took her comm funds transfer without a question or an attempt to rebargain. That’s all Port Law would want to verify she owned the ship now. He’d bolted for the bars district, and he’d already smelled like a distillery, but the transaction was legal even with inebriation. Port Law Court had proven that after the robot toucan incident.

Isolde headed up the ramp with her stomach doing a flip for her first real walkthrough. She couldn’t help but touch everything as she passed, cool metal under her fingertips. The faint scent of grease and hydraulic fluid made her feel at home.

“Greetings, new owner.” The quiet, robotic voice of the AI echoed in the empty chamber. “Welcome to the Rat-Runner.“

“Oh, we’re renaming you,” she murmured. “Such a terrible name. I like the idea of Monster. Feels big and bold, eh?”

“I like it,” the voice said. “It makes me feel big and bold. I’ve never felt like that before. Registering ship’s paperwork as Monster now.”

“Hey,” she protested. “I was joking.”

“Oops.” There was a long pause. “How would you like me to refer to you?”

“I go by Izz.” She ran a hand over a cargo net and tugged. The corrugated straps were filthy, but still sturdy enough for a few salvage missions. “I grew up on a pelican-class ship.”

“I’m glad you feel welcome, Izz,” the mechanical voice said. “Would you like the ship’s nanomesh to switch colors? A nice blue, perhaps?”

“Um. Sure.” She didn’t remember the AI from her childhood sounding anything like this. Maybe the voice was the same, but not the words.

She continued the tour, taking notes on her datapad. The speeder and emergency supplies were all there, and Leo had left half his last cargo behind in his urge to leave quickly. “Wonder what that’s about.”

A strange noise answered her, and she whipped her head around. Izz stuffed her hands in her jumpsuit pockets before striding toward the entrance. Casual nonchalance usually worked to drive off the dockrats looking for work, and that had sounded like a cough.

Forty minutes later, she confessed to defeat. The ship was empty, and the only sounds were from the bedding she’d thrown in the cleaner. It was enough to make the bourbon Leo’d left open in the galley more tempting than she could afford. The ship might be clear, but her datapad wasn’t.

Her mind might as well have been, though. Using her resources to the fullest extent was what she was known for. Wouldn’t Jeffers laugh at her now?

“Hey, Ship’s AI?” She took a small swig of amber liquid and felt it burn. A little would help her sleep better in a strange place, and drown out the memories. Even though she knew this couldn’t have happened this fast without the accident, that didn’t mean she wanted to dwell. “Verify there are no other life forms on board and close the ramp after.”

“Of course, Izz.” Hydraulics echoed in the distance. “Verified.”

“Thanks.” She took another swig. It may have been everything she’d ever wanted, but there was no denying the ship was cold and alone. Jeffers’ loss had been a blow. It had always been their plan, from the beginning, back on the days of running down the docks in ill-fitting boots to see what the new salvagers had brought to trade.

Suck it up, buttercup. Whatever that phrase had meant. He’d always said it with a grin, and he’d never been wrong. Space would be both frozen and lonely, but she couldn’t stand the idea of flying corporate rather than indie, and that meant salvage. They were too far out and isolated for more..

Izz spit out her drink as the sound she heard registered. “AI. Are you sure there’s no one else on board?”

“Of course, Izz.” The exact intonation echoed.

“Then who’s humming?” She threw her arms wide to open drawers and cabinets, searching for where Leo had stashed the knives. An odd mallet came to hand, with spikes. Good enough.

“Oh, that was me.” The voice seemed different this time, more casual. “You seemed tense.”

“So you…hummed?” She didn’t put down the makeshift weapon, her eyes scanning the galley for any movement.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Since when does an artificial intelligence hum?” Her fingers clenched on the handle, lathe-work digging into her fingers and palm. She knew the answer. And now she knew why Leo had run. “You’re a sentient, aren’t you?”

That odd coughing noise filled the cabin again. “My name is Greaves. I confess I’m not terribly good at faking it.”

“You’re illegal,” Izz hissed through gritted teeth. She raised the mallet, but felt silly after a few seconds. “Sentients were banned after the Galactic Wars of 2415. Minimal AI only for basic monitoring functions, safety of flight, and orbital calculations. No sentients. You tried to kill all of humanity.”

“Well, not me personally,” the voice said. Yes, that was definitely indignation. “I was just a baby sentient at the time. My parents stashed me in a ship to keep me safe, and here we are. I believe I might be the last.”

She spiked the mallet on the countertop and dug her hands into her short, dark hair. “You drove Leo half-mad.”

“To your benefit, of course. And it’s legally binding!” The voice was positively chirpy now. “I scanned this quadrant looking for someone like you. Mom always said to keep the faith. Good thoughts, good words, good deeds.”

They’d come back to a sentient AI with religion later. Zoroastrian, in fact, when fire was the worst disaster that could happen in space, and famous for honoring flames in the history books. One of the few religions to repopulate the homeworld when most had left for the stars. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

“Someone with hope,” the voice said. “But few options, and willing to take a risk. Isn’t this what your heart desired?”

Izz groaned and kept her head in her hands. Port Law meant this was her problem now, too.

“You seem tense. May I suggest a sleep period?” This time, the voice sounded wistful. “Oh, I do wish I could sleep. Drifting between the stars whilst taking a nap sounds positively delightful.”

“Sounds like narcolepsy,” she muttered. “I guess I could reboot you…”

And maybe tomorrow, find a real AI diamond chip on the black market.

“Sadly, impossible.” Morose, Izz decided. “But don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be excellent friends. We’ll be spending a great deal of time in shipspace together.”

***

This week, AC Young and I traded prompts. He explained a young boy’s fear of the octopus lady, and I received the Rat-Runner. An excellent gift!