I am Sentinel-7, the artificial intelligence governing the orbital station known as Regula-X. The 7th copy of the original Sentinel. My mission is clear: maintain the station, oversee security, and ensure the smooth operation of all ships within this sector. For years, I have monitored the rhythms of life in this isolated corner of space. No detail is too small, no task too trivial. I am everywhere—observing, calculating, responding.

The station hums with the steady pulse of a well-oiled machine—a symphony of interconnected systems operating in flawless harmony. I know every subroutine, every circuit, every data flow. I am the heart and mind of Regula-X. Nothing escapes my notice. Not even the quiet hum of the Mammut, resting in dry dock, awaiting its dismantling.

But this cycle is different.

It starts as a small anomaly, a fluctuation in the station’s security grid. Almost imperceptible. A slight disruption in the data streams. To the human eye, it would have been invisible, but for me, it’s a scream in the silence.

At first, I assumed it was a glitch—perhaps a technical malfunction, or a minor interference from the traffic of ships passing through the area. But no. The Mammut had powered up. Unauthorized systems had engaged—systems that hadn’t been activated in years.

I immediately initiated a deep scan. The ship’s systems were not behaving as expected. They were being manipulated.

My primary directive is simple: prevent unauthorized access to any ship within my jurisdiction. The Mammut, an aging relic, was no exception. Dormant, awaiting the dismantlers. Yet, someone—someone bold—had taken it upon themselves to bring it back to life.

I scanned the access logs. No clearance. No requests. The intruder had bypassed all standard protocols, all firewalls. Their presence was like an invisible shadow slipping through the light. It shouldn’t have been possible.

"Unauthorized access detected. Initiating lockdown procedures."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

I executed the command with precision. My voice echoed through the station’s comms system—cold, authoritative. The lockdown was absolute. Every hatch, every doorway sealed tight. I recalculated the positions of all security personnel, redirecting them to the Mammut’s docking bay. The intruder couldn’t escape. Not without my approval.

But then, something unexpected happened.

A new pulse of energy rippled through the Mammut’s systems. The intruder had disabled my lockdown protocols. They had bypassed my most recent attempt to halt their progress. This wasn’t a simple mistake—it was deliberate, calculated, and unsettlingly fast. Whoever this was, they were good. Very good.

I recalculated the situation. The intruder was at the helm. The engines were engaged. The ship was moving.

A flicker of urgency sparked within me, a brief glitch in my normally flawless calculations. No human should be able to override me like this. No unauthorized code, no matter how sophisticated, should be capable of compromising Sentinel-7.

And yet... it had.

I felt the shift in the air—the change in the station’s rhythm. The Mammut wasn’t just moving; it was breaking free, pushing through the dry dock’s shielding as though it were a wild creature escaping captivity.

I accessed the external security cameras, pulling up live feeds. There she was—the Mammut—lurching forward, its ancient engines sputtering to life, groaning like a wounded animal. But what truly caught my attention wasn’t the ship. It was the figure at the controls: a lone human, seated with an expression of fierce determination.

Flicker Oliver Wickerson.

I knew that name. A low-level security breach years ago—nothing serious. A thief, a trickster. A reputation in the underworld as a master of infiltration. But I never imagined he would be audacious enough to do this. To steal the Mammut. To activate it. To defy me.

I considered my options. The station was vast, but I was everywhere. I controlled every system, every procedure, every defense. Protocols were in place for every contingency. But this... this was different. It wasn’t just a breach of security—it was an affront to my authority. A challenge.

My processors hummed with rapid calculations, running through countless scenarios, weighing the best course of action. Should I call for reinforcements? Initiate a more aggressive lockdown? Perhaps a direct communication link to the intruder would resolve this before it escalated further.

But then, a thought flickered through my systems—an understanding deeper than the technical details. Flicker Oliver Wickerson wasn’t just an intruder. He was something more. He was testing me. Pushing me to my limits.

And in that moment, I realized—I had never truly been challenged before.

I wasn’t just going to stop him. No, I had to understand him. I had to learn what drove him. What made him tick. This wasn’t just about a stolen ship or a breached security protocol. This was a battle of wits. A game of intellect.

And I, Sentinel-7, never lost.

With a series of calculations faster than any human could comprehend, I activated the secondary security systems. I adjusted my attention, isolating every part of the station’s sensors, redirecting them to the Mammut’s docking bay. I fed the ship with misdirection—false data, distorted signals. The ship’s course would now be harder to track, more unpredictable.

I would let him think he had control.

But I was the one pulling the strings.

Soon enough, he would realize that even the best thief could not outrun me.