Sybil watched as Erik and the vitexrā named Vanessa once again settled into some temporary quarters, this time on the main deck near where Carter and now the boy's rooms were. Of course, the vitexrā was cleaning up the room to her standards, which, apparently the Sybil did not live up to.

Partway through her cleaning routine, the vitexrā looked directly into the camera lens from which Sybil had been observing her and spoke. "Do you wish to speak with me, or are you just bored enough that watching me clean is somehow a preferable use of your time?"

Not wanting to compound her rudeness, Sybil made her avatar appear in her usual form, taken from her preferred appearance in her time as a human, a tall redhead with a dress and shoes to match. Of course, back then, this appearance often elicited unwanted attention, so she usually dressed down, but now she was more than able to make anyone regret treating her with anything approaching disrespect, so she was free to dress how she liked. "How did you know I was watching? Most of the time, these cameras only passively record what's happening on the ship and are only accessed when we need to know more."

If Vanessa was upset at being watched, none of her behavior indicated as much. "When you are observing me, I've noticed the camera lenses behave somewhat erratically. They move more like the eyes of an organic being than the passive lenses of a purely electronic recording device."

Most people wouldn't have noticed such a small thing like the lenses making minute adjustments, but then again, Vanessa wasn't most people. She was already back to cleaning, though Sybil was well aware she was still being carefully observed. However, something was bugging her, so she decided to ask what was bothering her. "Why do you act subservient to that loudmouth you call a partner? Why not let him clean up his own room?"

Vanessa continued working, though Sybil noticed some of the vitexrā's eyes were still focused on her. "I am not subservient to anyone, though I can see how it would appear that way from your perspective. We both perform our share of duties, and I do not trust my lady to perform this particular task to my satisfaction. That is not to say our partnership is without complications, but adequate communication and the occasional airing of grievances is enough to keep our relationship optimally functional."

Sybil shook her head. "So the woman does the cleaning, and the man does the fighting? But if that's the case, he doesn't even do his part, as you have to fight at his side!"

Vanessa remained as unreadable as before. "You've made several incorrect assumptions. For one, I am neither male nor female. Because of the pitch of my voice and the general perception humanity seems to have of my people, I am often assumed to be female. To avoid complications, and because I have no particular preference myself, I chose not to dissuade that particular assumption. However, as your specific complaint in this instance is based upon gender norms, you should be aware neither norm applies to myself. Secondly, fighting is not Erik's task. It is more of a competition we perpetuate to satisfy past transgressions and to provide for our present selves. In short, we both enjoy what we do, albeit in different ways. Erik's primary responsibility is to handle most social interactions, freeing me of the social conventions of your people."

That made Sybil pause for a moment. "You don't like speaking with people? Would you prefer I leave you alone right now?"

Vanessa shook her head. "That interpretation of what I said is not entirely accurate. It is not that I necessarily dislike speaking with people, but I do find it somewhat...taxing. You often hide meanings behind words and actions, which require careful observation of nuanced behaviors to properly interoperate. While some of my people enjoy the challenge, I do not. However, Erik has none of those faults. My lady is about as open and forthright as a sapient is capable of being, making our interactions enjoyable rather than taxing. However, if I had not been feeling up to conversing at this time, I would not have invited you to speak with me."

Sybil couldn't fault Vanessa's claims, though her answer did raise another question she'd been wondering for some time. "If you don't mind my asking, why do you refer to Erik as 'my lady?' you have to know Erik is male, not female, correct?"

Vanessa paused, and for a moment, Sybil wondered if she'd gone too far, but when the vitexrā got around to answering, the tone of her voice indicated amusement rather than annoyance. "That particular abnormality of ours is a reminder of past assumptions and the following reparations. To explain further would be pointless to one not involved at that time."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Now, Sybil was even more curious but chose not to press the issue as Vanessa didn't seem interested in continuing. Maybe a change in subject would be a better course of action. "Well, now that we have a more expanded menu, is there anything in particular that you'd like for dinner tonight?"

Miles walked down the corridor toward the mess hall. He'd always watched people who ate breakfast right after waking with jealousy, but now he would experience it for himself. What should he eat? Eggs and bacon? Maybe pancakes? Of course, they might not have any of that kind of food on board; it's not like this was a luxury liner, but still, dreams of such things wouldn't leave his mind as he approached the mess hall.

As he walked into the room, Miles was surprised to see it wasn't empty this time. A large man in a kitchen apron stood next to the stove. "Ah, it's the young master. What'll it be, laddie?"

Upon hearing the man's voice, Miles remembered he had been on the bridge when he'd first arrived. This was the one who'd been dressed like an old earth pirate. But wasn't he one of the AIs? What was he doing here in the kitchen?

Realizing he was just staring awkwardly, Miles forced himself to answer. "Uh, I was just gonna make some food...er...breakfast."

The man laughed. "Breakfast it is! How do eggs and bacon-flavored-substitute sound?"

Since that was more or less what he'd been planning to make, Miles nodded. "Uh, yeah, that'll do..."

The pirate winked. "Alrighty! Just sit tight, and I'll have that up in a moment!"

However, rather than starting to cook, the man just stood there, smiling. Miles watched a moment before hesitantly asking. "Ummm, are you going to make it....or should I?"

The man laughed. "Oh, I'm working on it as we speak! Just not with this here projection." He passed his hand through the edge of the table. It briefly broke into a digitized mess before his hand came out the other side and reformed as if nothing had happened as he continued speaking. "My grip strength isn't what it used to be!"

Thinking he should have realized that, Miled awkwardly shook his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry. I didn't mean nothing by it..."

The man laughed. "Nothin' to worry about, lad! No harm done!" Then, he seemed to change gears a little. "So tell me, how'd you sleep your first night here on the galaxy's most notorious ghost ship?"

The beds had been far too soft, forcing Miles to sleep on the ground, but being able to wrap himself in some of the nicest, warmest blankets he'd ever gotten to use had helped him sleep better than he could ever remember. "Uhhh, I slept pretty good...I guess."

The pirate laughed again. He seemed to do that a lot. "Ahhh, there's the fearless lad ol' Erik mentioned! Didn't see a lot of you on the bridge!" He then continued laughing at his own joke.

Miles felt himself getting more embarrassed. That hadn't been his finest moment, but he'd woken up on the back of a giant spider monster. No one would have reacted bravely in that situation! However, he was used to being picked on from his time on the pirate ship and wouldn't let this get under his skin. "Uh, yeah. I wasn't myself then..."

The man winked. "No worries, Laddie. Yer hardly the first man to face his fears aboard the ship, and you won't be the last. We won't hold it against ya. In fact, you seemed to recover fast enough. That'll earn ya some respect around here. At least from me, it will!"

Miles couldn't help but grin a little at the raucous man before him. He was like some character right out of one of the books he'd read back at the library. However, he was saved from having to respond when the man seemed to change subjects, leaning in as if to speak more amicably. "So, how do they call ye?"

The odd wording confused Miled. "How do they call me..?"

The man laughed. "Yer name, lad! What is yer name?"

Miles shook his head before answering. "Er...Miles. My name is Miles."

The man laughed again. "Well, Er-Miles, it's nice to meet ya! You can call me John! It's a new name. What do you think?"

Miles had been about to correct the obviously intentional mispronunciation of his name but stopped when he heard the name John. This guy was a pirate who worked in the kitchen, and his name was John. There was no way that was a coincidence! "John? As in Long John Silver?"

The man's face lit up in excitement as he leaned forward again, practically shouting in Miles' face. "Ah, a fellow man of culture, I see! Yes, I chose the name based on the legend himself! It's rare for someone to catch that these days! You must be a fellow fan of the sea dog days!"

He was more of a fan of books in general, but Miles wasn't about to ruin a connection that endeared himself with his hosts if he could help it. "Uh, yeah. I read 'Treasure Island' back before I got captured by pirates. I really liked the action."

John smiled at him. "Aye! I was quite fond of the book myself...back when I still had hands to hold it!"

Looking at the man who dressed as a pirate and named himself after one of the most important characters in the book, Miles couldn't help but laugh and smile a bit. "You don't say! I would have never guessed!"