Torian grimaced. “I’m not a traitor—”
“I was not referring to you,” Moss replied curtly. “Buthedoesn’t deserve my processing power. Are you planning to fly the ship, or just socialize? If you would rather settle in, I will recommend thatyou begin by disposing of any ofhispersonal belongings you find here.” A sly pause. “In fact, I encourage it.”
Torian felt like she was stepping on a minefield there. She offered a nervous laugh. “Who… um, who owned this ship before? Are they still alive?”
“A dog-turd fungus. I have no knowledge of his current whereabouts. He is likely still alive; his species is exceedingly long-lived.”
Well, fuck. Torian prayed he didn’t show back up—at least, not until she had a better idea of their next step. She couldn’t relinquish this ship to some strange, ancient alien. Not until she’d visited Rhymarra and passed their citizenship exams.
Then again, it didn’t seem likeMosswanted her to give up the ship, either. That might work in her favor.
“I can’t throw away his things—” Torian started to say.
“Fallacious thinking. He is gone. And if he returns, I will hack the energy barrier in the cargo bay and jettison him into space.”
Torian stared at the ceiling.
Moss didn’t add anything else. No qualifiers. No apology.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” she said.
“I am not your secretary,” Moss retorted.
Torian snorted and pushed off the chair, climbing the short staircase to the flight deck. There was a railing, one she didn’t grab because moss covered its edge. “Well, I won’t be able to sleep now anyway. Let’s see how this thing flies.”
“Finally,” Moss said.
IDENTITY: Mechanical Operations and Support Systems
→SUB-IDENTITY: Moss
TIME/DATE: 17:68/Januous 9, Year 90113 [System U2Ab Universal]
LOCATION: Colony 13 [human]
A new conclusion was reached twelve minutes into our conversation: I liked the maybe-pilot apparently-solar-engineer not-smuggler human, Torian Razner.
In addition to my earlier analysis on her personality, she appeared to share several traits withhim, the dog-turd fungus, the traitor. They were both curious, with an easygoing nature and a sense of humor. Surprisingly, this only enhanced my opinion of her.
[Impressive, considering my opinion ofhimwas nearing deletion.]
Her logic was questionable, and her optimism might cause problems. But she understood and respected that I didn’t want to be touchedand she thought I was beautiful. Our conversation remained within amicable parameters as she settled in to the flight deck. She asked intelligent questions while reviewing preflight checks.
“Were you responsible for the power-up instructions when I bought the ship?” she asked.
“Yes. There was a one point two percent chance you would know how to operate this starship. I did not like that statistic.”
Torian laughed. “Well, thanks. But I’m sure I can figure it out from here.”
Her tone registered ashopeful, which raised warnings in my central system. “How skilled are you at flying spacecraft?” I asked carefully.
“Skilled enough,” she replied. Then, for an unknown reason, she added a qualifier: “I mean, you’re right. I haven’t exactly flown something like this. But most ships have auto-navigation… right?”
“There is an auto-navigation system in this starship, yes.”
“There we go.” Torian shrugged. “All I really needed to learn was docking and departing. I watched Amelia sometimes, and practiced on a holographic flight simulator.”
[She should not have added the qualifier.]
