The longer I’m on this ship, the more I feel like I’m going crazy. And not just in an I’m-trapped-in-some-kind-of-bizarre-time-loop way, though there is that, but also in an I’m -going-to-kill-someone-if-I-don’t-get-off-of-this-ship way.

C-CIL has managed to convince Jahdra to alter our course in order to continue pursuing the signal, the one that—as far as anyone else knows—only he can detect. And though I consider it an impressive feat to have won the trust of the captain in such a short amount to the point that she is willing to follow him to god-knows-where for god-knows-what purpose, I can’t help but feel that all of this is a mistake. If there’s anyone out here that needs help, it’s us.

What’s more, after coming under fire from an unknown ship and ascertaining no information as to their identity, origin, or intentions, we’ve changed course yet again, this time heading for Pajorat Prime. To me, it seems almost painfully obvious that the sole aim of the vessel’s attack was to get us to alter our course. I mean, what other explanation is there?

However, I seem to be the only person here with a fully functioning cerebral cortex and the ability to employ the smallest modicum of common sense. I cannot comprehend the logic behind this decision any more than I can comprehend how I am the only person on this ship that thinks this is a terrible idea.

I’ve been as frank as I dare with the captain, but she’s stubborn. I guess we have that in common. What frustrates me most about all of this is that I just want to help her. I want to protect her, the ship, all of us. But how can I when I can’t seem to get through to her?

I’ve thought about telling her what I know, that the distress signal is coming from Chrysanthemum. I could even take her down to Remus and show her. But that, I worry, may only feed her curiosity, strengthen her resolve to pursue the signal.

On the other hand, maybe she’ll dismiss the whole thing as a mistake, some kind of glitch. Hell, maybe it is some kind of glitch. Maybe Remus is wrong. Maybe I’m wrong—about everything. All my memories, my dreams about this ship, about Jahdra, maybe they’re just a byproduct of the accident—the crash or whatever it was that happened before Lotus came to my rescue. Maybe I’m just broken. After all, if I’ve really lived this all before, why can’t I seem to see what comes next?

I stare at the page in front of me. I’m too distracted to actually read the words written on it, but that’s between me and the book.

“What was that?” Shae asks, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the rec room.

“What was what?” I ask without looking up.

“That performance of yours on the bridge,” she answers with a scoff, sitting down in a worn armchair positioned across from the couch where I lie, my head propped on an armrest and a book held a few inches from my face. “I mean—” She pauses and shakes her head. “Wow.”

I peek over the top of the book at her.

“Good wow or bad wow?”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

She laughs.

“Both, I guess.”

I smile to myself behind the book.

“I gotta tell you,” Shae continues, “the look on Jahdra’s face when you brought up the crew—” Her eyes twinkle impishly. “—that’s something I won’t forget any time soon.”

It did feel kind of good to call Jahdra on her bullshit. If she wants to lie to us, fine. If she wants to make terrible, rash, irresponsible decisions, fine. But if she thinks she’s going to get away with either of those things without anyone having something to say about it, well, that’s not going to happen.

This is her ship, and she’s the captain. I get it. But it’s not just a title—the position comes with a responsibility to everyone onboard, petulant passengers included.

But I know that’s not why Shae’s here.

“Well?” I prompt.

“Well what?” Shae asks.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re really here?”

Shae presses her lips together, shifting in her chair uneasily as I peer at her over the cover of the book.

“I think you’re right,” she confesses.

I close the book, setting it down on the floor beside me.

“I’m listening.”

“There was something really weird about our run-in with that ship,” she continues, “the way it showed up out of nowhere and started shooting at us for no apparent reason. I mean, they didn’t answer the hails, they didn’t make any demands.” She shakes her head. “It was just…odd.”

Well, I’m glad at least Shae seems to have her wits about her.

“What do you think they wanted?” she asks.

“I think it’s pretty clear what they wanted,” I say, pushing myself into a seated position, “and I think they got it.”

“You mean they wanted us to go to Pajorat?” Shae asks.

I nod.

“It makes the most sense.”

“But why?” She demands, agitation edging its way into her voice. “Why would they want us to go there?”

I shrug.

“I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

Shae shakes her head.

“That’s not good enough,” she says. “What if they’re waiting for us when we get there?” she asks, the agitation giving way to something more like panic. “What if they’re there when we land and they try to take him?”

“Take who?” I ask, looking at her with concern and confusion. I’ve never seen her anywhere near this upset. “C-CIL?”

Shae bites her lip and looks down. I can see that she’s holding back tears.

“No one’s gonna take him,” I say, reaching across and putting a hand on her knee. She quickly takes my hand up with her own hand. “No one knows he’s out here,” I say, trying my best to be encouraging. “No one even knows he’s on this ship.”

Shae nods, but I get the feeling my words haven’t had much effect.

“It’s not like they could track him, right?” she says, her eyes pleading with me for confirmation.

“‘No person or person apparent shall through force, coercion, or will be subject to such infringement upon their autonomy as impedes or discourages their free movement throughout the galaxy,’” I recite, “‘including but not limited to tracking, tracing, or unlawful registration protocols.’”

Shae sits quietly, letting the words sink in.

“Even if someone did think it was worth the prison sentence, he’s not compatible with tracking hardware,” I say. “Besides, there’s only a handful of people in the world who have any idea what he looks like,” I smile encouragingly, “and I somehow doubt they’d waste their time coming all the way out here just to find one little lost robot.”

“I guess that’s true,” Shae says, her face softening as some of the worry begins to melt away. “Wait,” she furrows her brow, “how do you know that?”

My heart quickens for a moment as I scramble for a response.

“Don’t forget, I’m from Seraphis too,” I say with a smile.

“Oh, yeah,” Shae says, “I guess sometimes I do forget,” she allows a small smile.

“Me too,” I chuckle.

Shae holds fast to my hand, to my words of reassurance, and the two of us sit in silence for a few minutes.

“Byer?” she says at last. It’s the first time she’s called me that. She knows it’s not my real name, that it’s something borrowed from a book, something to hide behind. But I appreciate the gesture. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving my hand a squeeze. I squeeze her hand back, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe, comforted, like everything’s going to be okay.