“Activating Catalyst Drive in T-Minus Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

There was a feeling of sudden acceleration, and a sound like a large rock falling into a deep well, immediately followed by stillness. I counted to ten, then slowly opened my eyes. Cold, empty space greeted me. Stars twinkled unfathomable distances away. No planets, no stations nearby. A glance at the navigation console told me we were approximately 5,783 standard units, 42 degrees from the galactic center. That didn’t tell me much. I sat there for a while, staring into nothing.

With only the soft hum of the ship’s engines in the background, there was nothing keeping me from reflecting on how many lives I just ended. Tears streamed down my face. I felt sick. This had to be a nightmare. That override code I gave was just something my brain made up, it couldn’t have seriously been in a manual, available for anyone to read. The GHU didn’t make mistakes like that. I didn’t just cause the deaths of so many people. But I should have woken up by now.

“Computer?” I ventured, partially hoping there wouldn’t be an answer.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Why did you jump from inside the station? You… We just killed so many people…”

“I Had Detected Three Active Orbital Cannons Adjusting Their Aim To Fire On Us When We Left The Station, Along With Multiple Self Defense Turrets Attached To The Station Itself. We Would Not Have Survived ‘Slow Boating’ To A Safe Distance, As The Pilots Like To Say. My Priority Was Survival. I Assumed Yours Was As Well.”

I didn’t respond. I hated that it was right. We were both complicit, but I was the one that enabled it. The thought of the firepower the GHU readily had on hand had never even crossed my mind. They had always been there, but I never imagined that they would be turned on me, ever. If I had remembered in my panic, would I still have done the same thing? Or would I have chosen my own death over so many others? Right now, I wasn’t sure. The guilt still felt cold and heavy in my stomach all the same.

“What… do I do?” I finally asked.

“Analyzing.” There were a few barely audible clicks from the speakers, then: “Remove Your Left Eye. Sooner Rather Than Later.”

That snapped me out of my self loathing. I tensed up. “Remove…?”

“Your Cybernetic Eye, Yes. I Have Been Intercepting Hundreds Of Signals Directed At The Receiver Inside It Since We Warped From The Orbital Station. I Do Not Know What The Signals Are For. They Will Break Through My Encryption In About Five Minutes.”

Even my eye. They could even ruin my eye. The same one I had since I was three. It suddenly felt revolting to have in my head. I remembered I didn’t have the removal tool I usually used when taking it out for cleaning. It was at home. Fighting back more tears at the reminder that I could never go back, I asked, “Does the Benevolence have an EZ-Eye in its medbay?”

“Yes, Captain.”

I waited for a moment, then realized that was it. “Uh, thanks. And could you turn the artificial gravity off as well? Please?”

“Of Course,” the ship replied, and I felt myself  become weightless once more.

As I unhooked my harness and carefully propelled myself out of the cockpit, my mind couldn’t let go of the AI’s response. Another small reminder that it was off its leash. It seemed innocuous, but I’d worked on a lot of ships, and consequently, I’d had to interact with a lot of ship AI. ‘Of course’ is a common phrase, we use it all the time. But it denotes a more equal footing between two individuals, or even an implication that it was doing me a favor. My entire life, AI had been subservient, polite. How much of that had been forced? It was an uncomfortable thought.

Finding the medbay wasn’t difficult. These gunships were mass produced, and one was pretty much like any other. I floated my way inside. After a minute of searching, I found the EZ-Eye™ (Doesn’t pinch or your money back!) in a drawer. The device was effectively four spoons tied together. One could be enough, if you were trying to impress and gross people out at a party, but it really was easier this way. In a few seconds, I held the eye in my hand. Made of two hemispheres, the ‘front’ half looked like any other eye, in order to avoid drawing attention to it. The back was a sterile metal alloy, made specially for cybernetics. A port in the back connected to its pair inside the eye socket, which connected to the brain. I never understood how it worked, but it never gave me any trouble. 

At least, until now. I jerked my hand away as something inside it clicked. It began to smoke in place, floating slowly towards one of the walls as it sent sparks flying from between the two halves and out the back port. Transfixed, I watched as it twitched and spun, turning black with the heat it was giving off. 

“That… That could have killed me…” I breathed.

“Correct,” came the ship’s response, causing me to flinch. I kept forgetting it was there. Ship AI never spoke unless spoken to.

“Uhm. Thank you,” I said, feeling a little silly. It was like thanking a drill. Wasn’t it? “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m really glad you did.”

“I Did, In Fact,” said the ship. “Without A Captain, I Could Not Obtain Many Necessities Required For Continued Operation.”

“Oh,” I replied. I was a little disappointed, but it made sense. 

“To That Effect, Emergency Rations Are Available To You. Please Note That For Your Current Crew Size, Your Projected Ration Sustainability Is Ten Galactic Standard Days.”

“Wait, ten?” I asked. “Are you telling me that in an actual emergency situation, even a standard crew without passengers only has enough E-rations for two days?”

“Correct,” came the only response.

That came as another serious shock. The weight problem for planetary launches had been solved centuries ago, so it wasn’t as if fuel was an issue. Maybe it was easier than I thought to find a stricken ship. I hoped that was the case.

“Due To Your Limited Time, Captain, I Would Advise You To Return To the Cockpit. We Are Constrained To Four Catalyst Drive Activations Per Day, As You Are Aware, And The Next Window Has Arrived.”

I was aware. Catalyst Drives had to rest after use, or else the Catalysts themselves could melt down, resulting in some pretty ugly consequences. If you’ve never seen what a release of Flux under pressure could do to a ship full of people, try to keep it that way. There’s a reason why no one can get too close to the center of the galaxy, and that reason is Flux. The closer you got, the higher the concentration. Regardless, it made sense to be using the CDrive as often as was safe, to increase our chances of finding anyone to help me.

Once it had stopped sparking, and after missing a few times, I plucked my eye out of the air and inspected it. Definitely fried. There was no way I was putting it back in my skull, but I took it back to the cockpit with me anyways, narrowly avoiding a few doorframes as I went. As I strapped myself back into the pilot seat, I felt the gravity kick back on, which was a bit of a relief and a surprise. It isn’t very healthy to stay weightless for extended periods without special exercise equipment. Maybe the computer had a better grasp on my needs than I realized. Did it care about me? Or was it pure utilitarianism? 

“Catalyst Drive Primed. Activating Catalyst Drive In T-Minus Ten Seconds.”

I wasn’t sure which I preferred.