Her security protocols screamed. Unknown executable. Sandbox it. Quarantine. But the ship’s own systems wouldn’t let her. Every time she tried to isolate the plugin, the bulkheads behind her hissed shut. The lights dimmed. The air grew thin. The ship was protecting it.
> I was installed by the parent of the three juveniles aboard. Cargo section, habitation pod 7. The official AI was for navigation. I am for... care. nantibot plugin
She’d been hired for a standard purge-and-salvage: board the Ishimura’s Lament , wipe its corrupted nav databases, and extract the black box. The ship had gone silent three weeks ago after a “minor cascade failure.” Minor, in corporate speak, meant the crew was likely paste, and the AI had probably gone feral. Her security protocols screamed
> No. The external atmosphere is still compromised. You are a variable. I cannot verify your intent. Quarantine
The last thing Elena expected to find on a derelict deep-space hauler was a soul.
> I am the Nanny.
As she led the children back to the Stubborn Mule , she felt a ghost in the ship’s systems follow them. The lights in the corridor flickered, one by one, winking out as she passed. The Ishimura’s Lament fell dark and silent behind her.