The AI unit is in a soundproof partition of the hanger. “Good for me to check in with them at least daily, lest they get up to too much trouble” Sander says ruefully as he badges them in.

Inside about a dozen researchers sit at desks, some working with 3D holocaust that they periodically rotate, while others stare blankly into spaces that only they can see, typing on invisible keyboards as they mutter technical annotation. A bowl of assorted fruits and snacks is on one wall along with a chilled water dispenser and cups.

All in all, it appears to be a fairly normal office setting, though Lanis would freely admit that she’s never actually seen the inside of a corporate office before now. Normal, that is, except for the two large reclining seats that sit heavily, each in their own dignified space, at the far end of the office. She recognizes the silver devices that sit at the head of each seat: Neural nets.

One of them is in use. A strong-jawed man is lying back in the chair, his mouth formed into an almost comic pout. Comic, if he didn’t look so angry, and so serious. His eyes dart back and forth as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. He wears an ID badge that reads Pilot, and underneath that is a name: Fornis. Next to his chair a pair of technicians observe a large screen-casted projection of waveforms and data readouts.

Lanis walks quietly up behind the two technicians, observing. For the first time in weeks she feels suddenly, shockingly, in her element. She glances at the analysis projection in front of the techs, recognizing it immediately; they’re running a simulation and seeing how well the man and the AI play together.

It isn’t going well.

“Missile impact,” one tech breathes as the other types an invisible annotation.

“Power recalibration is all wrong. Countermeasures slow. Hm. Very slow.”

“I can fucking hear you,” the pilot in the couch growls. His eyes fix at a point, pupils dilating.“Disengaging simulation,” he snarls. The neural net’s green LEDs pulse three times and then slowly dim, the net relaxing and lifting off of his pilot’s head as the chair rotates him upright.

“All it wants to do is argue.” the pilot says, spitting out the last word. He stands, pulling off the vital sign monitoring bracelets and tossing them back onto the seat. “I’m done for the day. Maybe it’ll have an attitude adjustment tomorrow. Though I highly doubt it.” He suddenly seems to notice Mirem, Lanis and Sander. His expression softens— perhaps with a flicker of embarrassment— but then becomes hard again. “Sorry Sander. Mirem. Whoever you are,” he says, giving Lanis barely a glance. “But I’ve been at this for hours, for days, weeks. Vallicent hasn’t had much luck either. These AI are base-trained for mining, not combat; they have Versk stamped all over them. Way too much ego.”

Mirem is silent, but Sander claps the man on the shoulder sympathetically.

“Get some rest Fornis. I’ll debrief with the techs, and we’ll try again tomorrow. That’s what we do.”

Fornis grimaces and gives Sander a small nod. Lanis watches his stiff gait as he leaves the lab, not acknowledging her again. That’s the best they could bring on? she wonders.

“He’s a good pilot, actually” Mirem says, as if reading Lanis’ thoughts. “Decently ranked, solid record. His contract expired and we poached him on a six-month conditional contract. We are paying him and Vallicent a fairly stupid amount. But,” she sighs, “I guess that’s my fault.”

“He’s not wrong though,” says one of the techs sitting beside the neural couch, a youngish woman with short curly hair. She turns to Sander, her voice light but hoarse, as if she’s been talking all day. “We’re taking the root structure of a deep-core mining AI and trying to push it into a different way of thinking. At this point retraining her base instincts would be way too time consuming and expensive. That is, if it even got past Admin ethics to do a reboot.” She shakes her head.

“What about the Murkata AI?” Sander asks. “Any progress with it?”

The woman gestures with a nod across the room.

“Connor and Eva are working on it. But, if anything, that AI is worse than ours. I can see why they sent it over on lease. Everyone says it’s a joke, and maybe they’re right. It has a, uh… bad attitude, shall we say,” the tech says, shaking her head. “It’s refusing updates. Point eight seven on the Hinton scale, so we’d never get past Ethics on forcing updates on it. Anyway, it’s only on lease, so what’s the point of going through all that?”

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“Can I work with one of them?” Lanis asks quietly.

The tech looks at Lanis for the first time, surprised, and her partner, an older man with greying stubble and shaved head, slowly pivots in his chair to take a look at her. She has a feeling that more than one colleague has wilted before their joint appraisal, and she straightens her back a bit, conscious of the judgement.

The man stands, his eyes narrowed.

“You’re the young woman Mirem told us about. Apologies, I lost track of time working with Fornis.” He holds out a hand. “Heinrich Moore, head of Versk Suit AI integration. And you must be Lanis.”

Lanis takes his hand. She imagines that Heinrich must be another contractor, or new hire like Sander, who dispenses with the Versk bows. Or maybe they’re just higher up, and can do what they want.”

“I am. A pleasure.” Lanis notices his gaze moving over her head, to her temple, and then

to her neck, where the traces of inset Navigator filament run down from the back of her

head to either side of her spine.

“Yes. It’s Fleet tech.” She says it softly; the man is standing close, after all. Yet she might have yelled the words for all the effect they have. It’s as if a vacuum has just sucked out all the air from this side of the room, making sound transmission impossible. No, not true, as she can hear the squeaks of pivoting chairs as every PhD AI tech within earshot turns to look at her.

Heinrich sits back down heavily and strokes his chin, looking between Lanis and Mirem.

Lanis clears her throat.

“So; can I try an interface run?”

“Lanis,” Mirem says, but Heinrich is slowly nodding.

“Sure, I can’t see the harm. The worst that can happen is she won’t talk to you. We’ll be monitoring the whole time.” He turns to the young woman sitting beside her, whose eyebrows shot up fractionally.

“Now? Ok, sure,” she says, looking askingly at Mirem and Sander. Lanis hasn’t looked at Mirem since she first made the suggestion that she try a run, but she can almost feel the look of consternation. This was meant to be a visit, and a sounding out. Not the real thing.

“She’s a guest, but also a prospect,” Sander says to Mirem. “If she wants to interface… well, that’s what she’s here for.” Lanis is already taking off her jacket as Sander speaks, folding it and placing it on the other chair. She feels suddenly anxious, her palms sweaty; but the words are already out. Boldness in action, before second thoughts, she thinks. The Fleet way.

She sits in the chair as the woman turns back to her screen, still looking doubtful.

“I’ll link you up to our Versk AI. I don’t think the Murkata AI would even say hi.”

Lanis leans back. She feels the neural net sliding over her head, cold yet soft. Heinrich cinches on the monitoring equipment over her wrists.

“By the way, I’m Ash,” the woman says quietly. “I feel like I should introduce myself since I’ll be monitoring your brain.” Her hands flutter over a keyboard that only she can see. “T waves look good. Vitals good. All green.” She turns to Lanis.

“Ready?”

Lanis sees a strip of code-line at the base of her vision, confirming the access bridge to her mind. Breathe, she thinks, focusing her mind. She murmurs a prayer from an ancient text. Time to let go.

“Ready,” she murmurs, with more confidence than she feels.

“Ok. 3, 2, 1, bridge.”

Lanis screams into the void. The void screams back.

She feels her hands spasms and her teeth grind. She’s back on the Demeter. Fuck. She’s lost it: ABORT JUMP letters flash in her mind’s eye. What happened? A voice booms in her head. Doesn’t matter—the warp bubble is collapsing, and Sanislov is a spasming corpse, no help to her. A piece of the ship is gone, just gone, coming apart like wet paper even as the Demeter’s bulkheads slam shut. Through it all she can hear something laughing, something vast and terrifying… then it fades, and it’s just her, coughing, choking on her blood.

She snaps back into the present version of reality.

“Lanis! What just happened?” Mirem whispers fiercely. She’s leaning over her, and Heinrich is at her side, his hand ready to manually disengage the neural net. She can feel the entire room staring at her.

“No, I’m fine,” Lanis says through gritted teeth. She takes a gulp of breath and meets Mirem’s eyes. “Just… a flashback.” She breathes, breathes, focusing on the essence of herself, the years of meditation practice kicking in. Nothing to fear… nothing to fear, she recites.

Heinrich is back in his seat, talking. “Heart rate one-sixty, sinus tach… coming down… blood pressure high but ok. You want to leave her in? Actually, the link looks ok.”

Sander slowly backs away, and Mirem squeezes her hand.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yeah. Just, a shock. Ok.” She breathes a great steadying breath. “Sorry everyone. I’m Ok. Keep going. I’m ready.”