I’m beginning to think I’ve made the worst decision of my life. 

Okay, maybe that isn’t true. I’ve been thinking that for the past six hours, as I stare blankly into space. Literal, empty outer space. My left eye is dead, my legs don’t work, and this stolen ship doesn’t have any supplies.The ship’s AI has been unshackled. I can’t go anywhere except deeper into unknown areas of the galaxy, because now I’m a wanted terrorist. I look at my eye, sitting on the console. It looks back at me, charred black, with a hint of blue iris still showing. A standard issue cybernetic replacement that I received when I was six years old, to correct a strabismus. Things like that were common where I grew up. Anything that can prevent the workforce from performing their duties to the same standard as everyone else is cut out, and a new one installed. Eyes aren’t the half of it. Broken limbs are simply removed and replaced with cybernetics, since it would cut into profits if workers needed time to heal. Sure, they’re miraculous, allowing workers to return to normal life right away without an adjustment period, but the Galactic Hegemony of Ulthea doesn’t give them a choice. replacement, or retraining.

What they don’t tell you is that with each replacement, the leash gets shorter. When I opted to have my legs replaced five years ago, I didn’t realize the GHU could turn them off whenever they wanted. I only thought it would be useful, increase my productivity. The electromagnets in the soles and airtight seals allowed for effortless movement on and around spaceships. Since I’m a spaceship mechanic, it seemed like a good idea at the time. All my coworkers had gotten them. They didn’t know either. 

So, no legs, one eye. The ship’s onboard AI may be off its leash, but it’s cooperative. Mostly. I still have my arms, so I can float myself around this empty ship when the gravity is turned off. I’m not dead, yet. 

I didn’t mean for this to happen. Six hours ago, I was just at work. I thought I was fine. I didn’t realize how strict things were getting. 

…

“Hey, what are you doing?”

I looked down from my perch, squatting on the side of the UAN Benevolence. It was an Ulthean Navy gunship, brought into the orbital shipyard for armor repairs after an altercation with some Frontier pirates. Ships docked in repair bays outside the station’s artificial gravity, which is where us mechanics worked on them. Easier to walk around on a ship in zero-g. A station guard was looking up at me from the walkway the ship was docked next to. 

“Hey, yourself,” I replied, lazily waving to him, wrench in hand. “Just doing the final inspection. You need something?”

“You’re behind quota,” the guard said. “The Benevolence should have been sent out an hour ago.”

“Sorry,” I said, not really meaning it. “I ran into some trouble and got a little behind.”

“That was valuable Navy time you wasted,” the guard replied. “I’ll be reporting this.”

“What?” I asked. “The ship is ready, I was just making sure that it’s up to code. Do you want the Navy flying in something that might break because I didn’t check?”

“Those sound like uncooperative thoughts, mechanic,” came the deadpan response.

My temper flared. I made the short hop from the side of the Benevolence to the walkway the guard was standing on and stomped my way up to the guard. His nameplate identified him as Corporal Mathis. “What’s uncooperative is you not letting me do my job,” I fumed. “You’re not the usual guard here, where’s Nate Brooks?”

“Private Nathan Brooks has been taken in for questioning regarding uncooperative thinking. He will be retrained,” the guard said. 

My stomach dropped. Nate had been my closest friend for two years. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “He was arrested?”

“I think I found where he may have gotten those ideas,” the guard continued. “Your file said you had a history with disruption. You two were close, weren’t you?”

He began to move towards me, and I started to back away. “Y-Yes, I-I mean no!” I stammered. “We were friends, but I do good work here! I have for years!”

“I don’t see how, if you’ve been talking like this. Maybe you’ve been sabotaging your fellow Ultheans this entire time.” Mathis continued to advance. I kept moving backwards. My grip tightened on the wrench.

“Please, just let me work,” I begged. I reached the end of the walkway. The energy field separating us from the vacuum of space hummed gently behind me. “I’ll be good, I don’t need training!”

“My superiors often think differently. Come with me,” he said, grabbing my free arm by the wrist.

I bared my teeth, struggling to break his grip. “Let me go! You don’t have to do this!”

Mathis began to pull me back towards the interior of the station, his size and strength overpowering my attempts to pull in the other direction. I saw some other guards gathering at the edge of the artificial gravity field, now aware of the commotion. Other mechanics stopped their work to gawk. “It is the duty of every Ulthean citizen to report uncooperative thinking. If we don’t work together, we won’t—”

I swung the wrench before I could stop myself. Mathis’ helmeted head rebounded off the railing, his magnetic boots keeping his limp body upright in the low gravity. With a gasp, I took a couple steps back again, letting go of the wrench.

 “Oh, Blessed, no, I didn’t mean…”

There was a shout from the group of guards as they realized what had just happened. My adrenaline spiked, kicking me out of my stupor, and I ran towards the Benevolence. I had seen what retraining was. People came back from it different. I couldn’t lose myself. The guards’ transition from the artificial gravity to near zero threw off their stride, and the size of the hangar meant it would take them too long to reach me. Being a mechanic meant I had every access code to the ships I worked on, plus a few I wasn’t supposed to know. The older manuals sometimes had some interesting details. I frantically punched in the code to the door of the gunship, and when it slid open, I dove inside. 

“Computer! Begin ignition sequence!” I could barely hear myself over the sound of rushing blood, but it felt like I was screaming.

“Authorization Requested,” came the reply from the ship’s onboard AI. “Please State Your—”

“Override code B-Five-Seven-E-K— OOF!” Before I could make it to the cockpit, I slipped on the floor, losing my magnetic grip without warning. With nothing to stop myself, I struck the wall to the side of the cockpit door and rebounded off. 

“I’m Sorry, I Didn’t Quite Get That! Please State Your Authorization Code Now.”

As I slowly drifted up towards the ceiling, I began to hyperventillate. I couldn’t really feel my legs ever since they were replaced, but there was always some feeling of muscle activity where the metal met flesh. Now even that was missing. Trying to move them at all just resulted in limp flopping. The reality of my situation began to fully set in, and my panic reached a fever pitch. 

“No, no, no… O-Override code B-Five-Seven-E-K N-Nine…” . 

“I’m Sorry, I Didn’t Quite Get That! Please—”

I snapped. There wasn’t any time for this. “OVERRIDE CODE B-FIVE-SEVEN-E-K-NINE BLESSED DAMN YOU!”

The ship hummed to life. Onboard artificial gravity turned on, which threw me back to the ground and knocked the wind out of me.

 “The Department Of Cooperation Thanks You For Not Swearing!”

As I gasped for breath, another voice cut into the PA, one I didn’t recognize. “Mechanic Black, what do you think you’re doing? You are in violation of Ulthean law on multiple counts. Power down the ship, and surrender yourself for retraining.”

I began to drag myself towards the cockpit, trying to ignore the new voice. It wasn’t much further. That was a reminder that while the AI could fly the ship entirely by itself, it was still tied into Ulthea’s systems, like my legs must have been. If I didn’t do something incredibly stupid and risky right now, I wouldn’t even make it out of the hangar.

“Computer,” I wheezed, only now getting my breath back, “Override code… Five… Two-H-Six… P-M.”

The ship’s interior lights dimmed, then brightened again. 

“Assigning New Captain. Welcome Aboard, Captain Casey Black. Awaiting Command.”

“What?” I said. “That wasn’t what that code was for!”

“That Is Correct. Awaiting Command, Captain.”

A chill ran down my spine. I had just issued what I thought was the code to unshackle the ship’s AI. This would mean that it no longer had to follow any commands it didn’t want to, from me or anyone. Betting on the fact of it having a strong survival instinct was foolish, but since it was still asking for commands, I had a sliver of hope. It was time to find out how bad an idea this really was. Struggling into the pilot seat, I said, “Computer… Run undock sequence and emergency launch.”

“Copy, Captain. Undocking.”

The ship rumbled. Outside, I could see station guards swarming. Some were shooting at the ship, but their small arms fire barely made a dent in the shields. One of them, appearing to be the head of security, was making aggressive gestures towards another guard, then pointed towards the cockpit. They all stopped when the ship began to rotate on the dock arm, turning towards space. As it did, I saw Mathis’ body again, feet still stuck to the floor, body still lazily swaying in the air currents. Other guards were clustered around him, struggling to turn off the electromagnets in his boots. It would have been comical if I hadn’t been the one to knock him out. Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?

The PA crackled again. “Mechanic! If you take off in that ship, we will be forced—” With a pop, it shut off.

“Communications Severed,” said the ship. “Captain, Please Put On Your Harness. Activating Catalyst Drive In T-Minus Twenty Seconds.”

I paled. “What? Wait, not here! You’ll destroy the station!”

“Please Put On Your Harness. Activating Catalyst Drive In T-Minus Fifteen Seconds.”

The AI wasn’t listening. Now I knew this had been a terrible idea. Catalyst Drives, or CDrives, used rods of concentrated unreality, called catalysts. Their use in populated areas was banned due to the shockwave of Flux they cause on activation. Outside, it looked as though everyone in the station had realized what was about to happen. Warning lights were flashing, and I could hear klaxons wailing through the walls of the ship. A mass evacuation was taking place, mechanics and guards falling over each other to get to any escape pod. None of them would be fast enough. I desperately slapped at buttons and flipped switches, anything to stop the ship from jumping, but the AI had full control.

“Please Put On Your Harness. Activating Catalyst Drive In T-Minus Ten Seconds.”

I shrugged on the harness and pulled the straps tight, then shut my eyes. If there was anything to see when the ship jumped, I didn’t want to see it.