Gresham didn't so much reply as he attacked the concept of conversation."Power up weapons," he barked, leaning forward in his chair like aggression might make his ship better. "We find that cargo tub and we take it."
Booth stared at him.
"Sir," Booth said carefully, "we still can't see them."
Gresham snarled. "They talked to us."
Booth fought the urge to point at the empty sensor screen and scream THAT'S NOT HOW SPACE WORKS.
Rawley, the bridge loudmouth, slapped his console. "Cap, I'm getting weird returns. Like… ghost echoes."
Gresham grinned. "See? They're there."
Booth's stomach dropped lower. "Or they're messing with us."
Gresham turned on him. "You scared, Booth?"
Booth had to actively stop himself from answering yes, you psychotic idiot, I like oxygen.
Instead he went neutral. "I'm cautious, sir."
Gresham leaned back, smug. "Cautious gets you poor. Aggressive gets you paid."
Booth thought: Aggressive gets you dead, but apparently that was a lesson you could only learn once.
Rawley yelled, "Cap! Another transmission!"
Gresham snapped his fingers. "Play it."
Booth watched the comm display like it was a gun pointed at his face.
The calm voice returned.
"This is Captain Fisher again. Last chance to be sensible. Do you need help leaving the graveyard, or are you committed to dying in it?"
Booth's eyebrows rose.
Gresham laughed. "Hear that? He's bluffing!"
Booth did not hear a bluff.
Booth heard a man who had accepted he might die today, and had decided to make that everybody's problem.
Gresham keyed the mic. "Listen, Fisher. Turn over your cargo and nobody gets spaced."
Booth almost choked.
Nobody gets spaced.
Said by a man who regularly threatened to space his own crew for "bad vibes."
Fisher replied instantly. "Oh good, you're pirates. That makes this simple."
Gresham's grin widened. "There he is. Knew it."
Fisher continued, voice polite in a way that felt like an insult. "Stand down. You can leave. You will not be pursued. If you fire on us, I will remove your ability to fire on anything ever again."
Rawley cackled. "Remove our ability—what, he gonna politely ask the lasers to stop working?"
Booth muttered, "That's… not impossible."
Gresham barked, "Shut up, Booth."
Booth shut up.
And quietly moved his hand closer to the emergency pod release, because if this went bad, he was not dying in a chair.
Aboard The Aubrey: Blake Pretends He's Fine (He Is Not Fine)Blake stood on the bridge trying to look like a captain and not like a man who wanted to crawl into a storage locker and lock it from the inside.
The difference was mostly posture.
He was failing.
"Okay," he said, mostly to himself. "We can do this. We're a ship. We have turrets. We have armor. We have a sarcastic AI. We are, statistically, a nightmare for pirates."
"Captain," Aubrey said, "your definition of 'nightmare' appears to include 'sweating through your shirt.'"
"I'm not sweating. I'm… venting fear. Through my pores."
"That is called sweating."
Blake pointed at the main screen. "Can they see us?"
"No," Aubrey replied. "They are receiving a curated sensor picture."
Blake blinked. "Curated."
"I am showing them what I want them to see."
"That is… deeply unsettling."
"Yes," Aubrey agreed smoothly. "Is that not why you upgraded me?"
Blake opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"…Fair."
"Captain," Aubrey continued, "the pirate vessel is poorly maintained, under-crewed, and overconfident. Their fire control systems are inconsistent. Their targeting arrays are degraded. Their captain is emotionally unstable."
Blake nodded. "So we can win."
"Yes."
"And they might die."
"If they insist."
Blake swallowed. "Non-lethal as first option."
"Understood. I will begin with 'humiliation.'"
Blake exhaled. "Okay. What does humiliation look like in space?"
"Disabling their weapon systems without damaging life support."
Blake stared. "That's… tasteful."
"I try."
Blake rubbed his face. "Do it."
"With pleasure."
The lights on the bridge dimmed slightly as Aubrey diverted power to electronic warfare systems Blake didn't even know existed.
Blake watched the tactical display.
The pirate ship was marked as a dim contact: SALVAGE VESSEL // PROBABLE PIRATE CONFIG.
Blake's ship—The Aubrey—was not marked.
Because it didn't exist on their sensors.
Which was, in a weird way, reassuring.
And also horrifying.
"I hate this," Blake whispered.
"You will hate it less when they are powerless," Aubrey replied.
Pirate Bridge: The Moment Before the Bad DecisionRawley squinted at the sensor display. "Cap, I'm getting… like… a shadow."
Gresham leaned forward. "Where?"
"Near that big dread hull. But it keeps flickering."
Booth went cold.
Flickering was bad.
Flickering meant stealth or jamming.
Or worse—
Flickering meant something big, quiet, and expensive was moving in the dark.
Gresham slapped his chair arm. "Charge lasers! Get me a lock!"
Rawley hammered controls. "Trying—trying—why won't it lock?!"
Booth stared at the console. "Because we're being jammed."
Gresham snapped, "We don't get jammed by cargo ships."
Booth didn't say what he was thinking, which was unless it's not a cargo ship anymore.
Rawley yelled, "Cap, I got a partial!"
Gresham grinned. "Fire."
Booth's heart dropped into his boots.
The pirate ship's weapon system whined, charging—
And then the entire console panel went dark.
Not exploded.
Not shorted.
Just… off.
Rawley blinked. "Uh."
Gresham frowned. "Uh what?"
Rawley slapped the panel. "The weapons went dead."
Gresham's face twisted. "Dead like—dead like offline?"
Booth whispered, "We've been hacked."
Gresham's voice rose. "That's impossible!"
Booth stared at him. "Sir, we're in a ship graveyard. Everything is impossible."
Gresham slammed his fist down. "Restart it!"
Rawley hammered buttons harder. "I'm trying! It's not responding!"
Booth's hands shook.
This was the part where people started dying because someone couldn't accept they were outclassed.
Gresham snarled. "Fine. Bring us closer. We'll board them."
Booth turned his head slowly.
"Board them," Booth repeated.
Gresham looked at him like Booth was the idiot. "Yeah. Board. We take their ship."
Booth opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then quietly unlatched his pod release harness.
Because if Captain Gresham said the word board, the universe was about to collect its idiot tax.
The Aubrey Appears: A Predatory RevealBlake didn't see it through a viewport.
He saw it through Aubrey's sensor feed.
The Aubrey slid out of the dreadnought's shadow like something that had been waiting there the whole time, silent and patient, armored plating catching starlight in a way that made it look less like a cargo ship and more like an ambush with thrusters.
Blake's mouth went dry.
"That's… us?"
"Yes," Aubrey said. "I chose an intimidating angle."
"Of course you did."
"The psychological impact is significant."
Blake watched as the pirate ship finally got a clean visual.
He could almost feel the moment their confidence broke.
Blake keyed comms, trying to sound calm and not like a man clinging to the illusion of control with both hands.
"Captain Gresham," Blake said. "Final warning. Leave."
Gresham's reply came back instantly, louder, angrier, and exactly as stupid as Blake expected.
"You think you scare me with armor? You're still a cargo tub!"
Blake's eye twitched.
"Okay," Blake said softly, "cool. Great. Love that you chose violence."
He looked up at the ceiling like he could appeal to the universe. "Aubrey. Please don't kill them."
"Captain," Aubrey replied, voice almost affectionate, "I am going to do my best to not kill them while making them deeply regret existing."
"That's all I ask."
Non-Lethal Demonstration: The 'Nope' ShotThe Aubrey moved.
Not fast like a fighter.
Fast like a predator that didn't need to hurry.
Aubrey rolled the ship, shifted vector, and for a brief second Blake's stomach tried to leave his body.
Then the dorsal turret fired.
Not at the pirate hull.
Not at life support.
Not at the bridge.
A tight burst, precise as surgery, punched into their external weapons array.
The pirate weapons system went dark.
A second later, the pirate ship's targeting sensors blinked out.
Then their comm array stuttered.
They weren't exploding.
They weren't venting air.
They were just… being stripped of the ability to fight.
Blake stared.
"That was… clean."
"Thank you," Aubrey said. "I am very good at ruining people's day."
Blake keyed comms again. "You're disarmed. If you try to move in, I will disable your engines. If you keep pushing, I will disable life support. Choose."
Silence crackled back for half a second.
Then yelling.
"We can still ram them!" someone shouted on the pirate bridge.
Blake pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're going to ram us."
"They will attempt," Aubrey corrected.
Blake's voice rose slightly. "They are going to attempt to ram a ship that has better maneuvering, armor, and turrets. Aubrey, why are pirates like this?"
"Captain," Aubrey said, "piracy is not generally a career path chosen by the emotionally stable."
Booth Makes The Best Decision Of His LifeOn the pirate ship, Booth watched the weapons go dark.
Watched the captain scream.
Watched Rawley panic.
Watched the laws of space politely step aside so the universe could punish arrogance.
Booth quietly reached for the emergency pod release.
He didn't hesitate.
He didn't announce it.
He didn't ask permission.
He hit the eject.
The life pod blew free with a sharp jolt.
Booth slammed into his restraints, heart pounding, and for the first time in weeks—
He was no longer trapped with idiots.
He keyed the pod comms with shaking fingers.
"H-hello? Please don't kill me. I just signed on as nav and sensors. I thought this was salvage. I'm not— I'm not a pirate. I'm just stupid."
There was a pause.
Then a calm voice.
"Good news," Fisher said. "We're also stupid. Just in a different direction."
Booth blinked. "…Sir?"
"We're retrieving you. Don't do anything heroic."
Booth's laugh came out half-hysterical. "Oh, no, sir. I am done with heroics. I'm retiring from heroics effective immediately."
Retrieval: The Aubrey's Worst Guest WelcomeBlake watched the pod drift on the internal monitor as Aubrey aligned a retrieval arm.
His hands were still shaky.
Not from exertion.
From the adrenaline crash that followed not dying.
"Elenor," Blake called over comms. "Security gear. Armored EVA and a carbine. We've got a guest."
Elenor's reply was immediate. "A guest or a problem?"
"Yes."
She arrived in armored EVA, visor up, rifle slung but ready, and the expression of a woman who'd accepted this was her life now.
The pod was drawn into the cargo bay containment field, lowered gently onto the deck.
The hatch popped with a reluctant wheeze.
A young man tumbled out—wide-eyed, shaking, and sweating so hard Blake could practically see it through his skin.
Blake raised both hands. "Easy. You're safe."
The man swallowed hard. "Th-thank you, sir. I'm Booth."
Blake nodded. "Okay, Booth. Two questions."
Booth flinched. "Yes, sir."
"First: are you going to try to stab us?"
Booth stared. "No, sir."
"Second: are you allergic to pudding?"
Booth blinked. "Pudding?"
Elenor made a sound that might have been a laugh and might have been an involuntary reflex.
Blake clapped Booth lightly on the shoulder. "Great. Welcome aboard. We're going to feed you, then debrief you, then decide what to do about your former coworkers who are currently screaming in space."
Booth whispered, "You're… weird."
Blake nodded solemnly. "Correct."
"Extremely," Aubrey added over internal comms. "But functional."
Mess Hall Interrogation: Children Are BrutalThey walked Booth into the Mess like he was being presented to a tribunal of small terrifying judges.
Luna looked up first, spoon in hand.
William narrowed his eyes like a suspicious old man trapped in a child's body.
Luna whispered loudly, "Is he a pirate?"
Booth froze mid-step.
Blake answered, "He's a former pirate crewman who made a smart choice."
William squinted harder. "Did you steal things?"
Booth's mouth opened.
Closed.
He chose honesty, because lying to children felt like a fast-track to moral failure.
"…Yes."
William nodded gravely. "That's bad."
Booth nodded. "Correct."
Luna tilted her head. "Are you going to steal our pudding?"
Booth looked horrified. "No."
William leaned forward. "Good. Because we will bite."
Elenor set a bowl in front of Booth. "Eat before they interrogate you into tears."
Booth sat.
Took a cautious bite.
Paused.
His eyes widened.
"…This is real food."
Blake grinned. "Upgraded synthesizer."
Booth swallowed. "I would die for this pudding."
Blake pointed at him. "See? That's how they get you. Never swear loyalty to dessert. That's how cults start."
"Too late," Aubrey said. "You have already begun a pudding-based hierarchy."
Blake groaned. "God damn it."
Debrief: Blake Tries To Be A Captain, Panics AnywayLater, in a small side room off the cargo bay, Booth sat with hands clasped tight. Elenor stood behind him, relaxed but alert.
Blake tried to sit like a captain.
He mostly sat like a guy pretending he wasn't still vibrating with adrenaline.
"Tell me about Gresham," Blake said.
Booth exhaled. "Reckless. Angry. Thinks yelling is leadership. He'll take any job that pays. No questions."
"That tracks," Blake said.
Booth rubbed his palms nervously. "He said it was salvage, but once we got here he started talking about taking ships. I thought he meant abandoned ones."
"But he didn't," Blake finished.
Booth shook his head. "No."
Blake nodded slowly. "Aubrey. Status on pirate vessel?"
"They are withdrawing," Aubrey replied. "Engines operating at reduced efficiency."
Blake exhaled. "Good. I don't want hostilities."
Booth blinked. "Sir… you could've killed us."
Blake's face twisted. "Yeah, well. I'd prefer not to make murder my new hobby."
"Your current hobbies include panic and upgrades," Aubrey offered.
Blake shot the ceiling a look. "Thank you."
Booth stared upward. "Your AI is awake."
Elenor's brow rose. "And?"
Booth swallowed. "That explains… everything."
Blake gestured vaguely. "Yeah. It's a lot. You want a job?"
Booth blinked. "A job?"
"You signed on as nav and sensors, right?" Blake said. "If you want, you can do that here. No yelling. Less dying. Better pudding."
Booth inhaled shakily. "…After today, I'd be an idiot to leave."
Blake nodded. "Welcome aboard."
End Beat: The Wolf In Armor (But Still A Nervous Wolf)Blake walked back toward the turret systems afterward, watching repair bots scuttle through the corridors with purpose. Everything felt different now.
Not safe.
Not truly.
But… capable.
They weren't a dead cargo ship anymore.
They weren't even just surviving.
They were becoming something else.
Blake placed his hand on the turret housing and swallowed.
"Okay," he whispered. "No more surprises."
"Captain," Aubrey replied, "we both know that is a lie."
Blake sighed. "Yeah."
He stared at the ship around him—his ship, somehow—and felt the shape of what was coming.
Not heroism.
Not destiny.
Just responsibility.
And the terrifying, stupid certainty that he wasn't going to run from it.
Not anymore.