Reborn as a Spaceship

The ship grew quiet. Too quiet.

Laia's voice gently broke the silence. "You miss them already."

"I do," I admitted softly, surprised at how quickly loneliness had set in. "But they'll be back. They always come back."

Days stretched into quiet, predictable routines. T'lish worked diligently in the growth pods, carefully nurturing the delicate hull-bud. Laia meticulously maintained planetary scans, forever vigilant.

I immersed myself deeper into refining the dimensional bubble technology, distracting myself from the silence. But now and then, my mind wandered back to the crew and wondered if Lynn and Kel's parents would be proud, if Stewie was holding up under pressure, if Mira's bright optimism had survived returning to familiar places.

It began subtly.

At first, I didn't even notice. A subtle fluctuation in environmental controls. Barely perceptible anomalies that my internal diagnostics dismissed as simple, unimportant glitches.

But then it happened again.

I had been reviewing my research when I felt it. A sudden, unexpected change in pressure in the cargo bay. Not enough to trigger alarms or even concern but enough that it felt…off. It made me feel nauseous. I paused my calculations, immediately focusing on internal sensors.

Nothing.

The cargo bay was empty and silent, exactly as it should be. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something unseen had moved within the empty silence of my decks.

"Laia," I asked softly, my virtual form coming into existence beside her on the bridge. "Did you notice anything odd just now?"

She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Define 'odd.'"

"A pressure differential in the cargo bay," I explained slowly, still scanning my internals closely. "Minor, yet unexplained."

Laia immediately connected with the ship's systems. "I see nothing out of the ordinary. Are you sure you're not overanalysing minor sensor noise?"

"Perhaps," I admitted, reluctantly returning to my calculations. But even as I refocused, I couldn't shake the lingering sensation of unease.

It was the sixteenth day after the crew had left when T'lish first approached me, concern evident in her eyes. She stood in the main corridor, clutching her holopad nervously.

"Lazarus… Are you testing any new systems? Or perhaps performing some sort of internal diagnostic procedure I wasn't informed of?"

"No. Why?"

She hesitated, scales shining gently beneath the artificial lights. "It's my laboratory. Certain instruments have been recalibrated overnight. My readings altered, experiments tampered with. I initially thought perhaps Laia but it felt strange she would do so without informing me."

Laia appeared beside us, immediately attentive. "I have made no adjustments to your laboratory."

T'lish frowned, uneasy. "Then we may have an unknown issue. The changes were too deliberate to be random glitches."

"Let's investigate," I said quietly, my avatar following her. "Perhaps we overlooked something."

I ran deep scans again, searching carefully through my internal logs. Still nothing. Yet as T'lish showed me the data, the evidence was undeniable. Her instruments had indeed been subtly manipulated.

But by whom or what?

"Laia, monitor internal sensors continuously," I instructed. "Any fluctuation, no matter how slight, report immediately."

Laia nodded silently, already fully absorbed in the task.

After that, the incidents increased, growing more frequent and more impossible to dismiss. Lights fluctuations in empty rooms. Doors opened or locked on their own accord. My internal temperature fluctuated randomly, sometimes causing uncomfortable chills to ripple through T'lish's laboratory.

It was as though something moved through the ship that was quiet, invisible, intangible it was testing, exploring, even learning.

By the fifth day, T'lish approached me again, clearly distressed. Her grey scales seemed paler than usual, eyes wary. "I heard someone speaking. It was faint like a whisper but undeniably there. Is it possible the ship comm system is malfunctioning?"

I ran immediate diagnostics on the comms, but found no evidence of activation. "No sign of malfunction. Where were you when you heard the voice?"

"Near the growth ponds," she murmured quietly. "I distinctly heard someone say my name. Softly, whispering. I turned quickly but I was alone."

A chill rippled through me despite my purely digital form. "We'll double-check audio logs and comms again. I'll run a deeper internal security scan."

The logs were blank. Nothing registered. It was as though whatever whispered her name existed outside my perception entirely.

A day later, Laia abruptly stopped mid-task, her avatar suddenly tense. "Lazarus, the cargo bay doors just cycled themselves, then sealed again. My systems detect no malfunction."

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"Check again," I insisted, growing increasingly uneasy. "Run a full diagnostic of every door, hatch, and maintenance panel."

Hours passed as Laia worked methodically. Eventually she reported softly, "Every system reads normal. There's simply no fault."

I paused, thoughtful. "Can your nanites detect...presence?"

Laia hesitated, understanding my implication. "If it were physical, yes. But a purely incorporeal presence would be beyond my detection."

That was unsettling, and the implications quickly became clear. We weren't alone. Something intangible, something impossible, walked within me.

"T'lish, perhaps you should stay near the core," I suggested gently. "Until we know what's happening."

T'lish nodded silently, clearly grateful, quickly gathering her holopad and moving swiftly to the core. Her quiet unease mirrored my own.

Over the next hours, I could feel its presence, subtle yet undeniable, a shadow just outside perception, a whisper just beyond hearing. Doors cycled randomly, temperature fluctuated wildly, strange sounds drifted from empty corridors. Even the lights, once comforting, now felt watchful, oppressive.

It seemed as if whatever it was, it was growing bolder, learning how to manipulate my systems and almost toying with us.

Finally, deep into our sleepless watch, T'lish broke the silence. "What if it's not malicious?"

Laia tilted her head curiously. "Explain."

"Think logically," T'lish said carefully, voice steadying herself. "If it meant harm, why subtle manipulations? Why only whispers and small disturbances?"

She had a point. Perhaps fear was guiding our assumptions.

"How do we communicate with it, then?" I asked.

Laia considered thoughtfully. "If it can influence ship systems, perhaps we can provide it a means of direct communication. Channel its interference."

T'lish nodded immediately. "Yes. Use a simple interface. Light signals, audio patterns, something it can alter easily."

It was a risk, but worth trying. I quickly rerouted a simple electrical signal something easy to modulate, easy to perceive.

"Can you hear us?" T'lish asked, her voice calm but firm. "If you can, alter the signal pattern use once for yes, twice for no."

Seconds stretched unbearably. My sensors strained, monitoring every circuit, every piece of data. We waited in absolute silence, but no signal arrived.

"Perhaps it can't understand the system," Laia suggested quietly, floating thoughtfully beside T'lish. Her usually serene avatar now blinked slightly at the edges, betraying subtle tension.

Then, the whispering began.

At first, it was barely audible, like static at the edge of perception. Gradually, it grew clearer, gently weaving through the ship's internal comm system, echoing through empty corridors. A quiet, insidious voice that spoke directly into our minds, more felt than heard.

"You smell of the chaotic one…" it whispered near T'lish. Her scales shimmered softly as she recoiled in confusion. "Touched by the Mother's mark."

T'lish stiffened, her eyes narrowing, clearly disturbed by the intrusion. "How do you know this?"

The voice ignored her question, shifting smoothly to Laia. "And you... shaped by childish beings. Impulsive, naïve, incomplete."

Laia's eyes widened subtly, the only outward sign that the remark had affected her at all. She said nothing, but I could sense a ripple of unease within her nanite form.

I felt a shiver ripple through my core as its attention finally shifted onto me.

"You… you are wrong," it murmured, the words vibrating through me with quiet authority. "A harmony broken. A dissonance within you."

I spoke carefully, trying to steady my thoughts. "Who are you?"

The whispers didn't answer directly. Instead, the entity continued its quiet, gentle judgment, circling back repeatedly to the same themes: Chaos, childishness, disharmony. Each accusation was delivered softly, patiently, without malice but with absolute, unsettling certainty.

Then it clicked, a realisation snapping into place. This wasn't some rogue ghost or malfunctioning system. It was something from outside our familiar dimensions maybe an emissary, or perhaps just a normal member of the Harmonics, the faction embodying perfect order. A being of contentment.

A thought flashed through me. Had I been guided here? Or was this just another twist of fate, another cosmic joke at my expense?

Either way, I had a problem and a possible solution. I remember the architect said that the Harmonics lived between the dimensions.

"Laia," I said quietly. "I think I know what we're dealing with."

She nodded cautiously. "An agent of Harmonics?"

"Yes," I affirmed, running mental calculations even as we spoke. "I think it might have been accidentally drawn in by our recent experiments. If we could trap it, isolate it in a dimensional bubble, we might regain control."

T'lish tilted her head curiously, recovering her composure quickly. "Can we do that safely?"

"Honestly? No idea," I admitted, already laying out virtual schematics before them. "But it's our best option. If it's a dimensional entity, the dimensional bubble should hold it. The theory is solid, at least."

Laia studied the rapidly forming diagrams, quickly comprehending my intentions. "We can use your existing technology and your current setting for the bubble to create a small, stable pocket."

"Exactly," I agreed. "It'll take precise timing. You'll need to keep it occupied, T'lish."

T'lish nodded hesitantly. "How?"

I felt sympathy for her unease, but there was no other choice. "Talk to it. Keep it focused. Let it criticise us and argue if you must. Just hold its attention."

She swallowed visibly. "Very well. Proceed quickly."

We moved rapidly. Laia's nanites swiftly reconfigured the current prototype, repositioning components, and recalibrating the delicate energy configurations, while I ran through precise dimensional equations at near-lightning speed.

T'lish stood bravely in the center of the lounge, carefully engaging our unseen visitor.

"Why judge us so harshly?" she called firmly, her voice echoing gently through the room. "Are we not all flawed, by nature?"

The whispering shifted, curious. "Flawed, yes but you…are not natural you are touched by Chaos. Your patterns are corrupted."

"Corrupted how?" she challenged gently. "What makes your superior?"

"Order brings harmony. Stability," it replied smoothly. "Chaos corrupts."

I ignored their philosophical debate, racing to complete the modifications. The controls shifted, and energy patterns aligned perfectly. It was ready.

"Laia, now," I signaled sharply.

Instantly, the bubble activated, folding gently around the lounge. I could feel a ripple pass through the room it was subtle but distinct. Something unseen, intangible, was captured, drawn into view at last.

For a moment, there was only silence. We watched in quiet awe as it manifested clearly as a mesmerizing multidimensional cube, rotating gracefully, suspended gently within our lattice. Its surfaces shimmered softly, infinitely complex and beautiful.

"I see it," T'lish whispered quietly, voice tinged with wonder. "The Harmonics…it's beautiful."

Even Laia seemed quietly awed. "Remarkable. Pure dimensional structure."

The cube rotated slowly, now silent, its whispers finally halted.

"We have you trapped," I said softly, cautious but firm. "Who are you? Why have you come here?"

Its voice resonated gently, echoing faintly through the lattice. "I am an observer, a guide, lost in your chaotic attempts to breach dimensional harmony. Your experimentation drew me here."

"So you sought to correct us?" T'lish asked curiously.

"To understand you," it replied softly. "You disrupt harmony and your ideas are dangerous to us but you fascinate me."

I paused, surprised. Not malice, but curiosity. Perhaps we weren't the only ones exploring uncharted territory.

"What happens if we release you?" I asked cautiously.

"You risk nothing," it whispered softly. "I wish only to observe and understand. So that we can determine how to reach balance"

I hesitated, exchanging cautious glances with Laia and T'lish. "If you stay, no more manipulation. We communicate openly."

"Agreed," the cube replied simply, its rotation slowing, calming visibly. "I will remain visible to your sensors."