The ship’s avatar appeared on the wall screen. She wore a charcoal-grey military tunic without insignia.

“Do you have an opinion on our new passengers?”

“Insufficient data.”

“You mean you have insufficient data to form an opinion?”

“No.” The Trouble Dog looked down her nose at me. “I mean I have, as yet, insufficient data to justify ejecting them into the vacuum.”

Her virtual features were based, I knew, on the facial appearance of the dead woman whose harvested stem cells had been used to culture the Trouble Dog’s organic brain. In the past, I had served on other ships with other faces and genders, but none that had kept their avatar’s appearance so slavishly close to its original template.

Unbidden, I remembered the day I first encountered the Trouble Dog. It had been just over three years ago, in the aftermath of the Archipelago War. I hadn’t commanded a ship since the final battle at Pelapatarn, and the Trouble Dog hadn’t flown with a captain since resigning her position in the Conglomeration Fleet. So, at first, we were naturally a bit wary of each other.

“You should be conscious,” she had said that day, her virtual chin held high and proud, “that I will not be party to another massacre.”

Surprised by the statement, I asked, “And what do you consider a massacre?”

I knew there would be times during the next few years when we would have to defend ourselves, and those we were rescuing, from pirates and other unfriendly forces.

“I will not fire on unarmed civilians.”

“But you would engage armed personnel?”

“If the situation called for it.”

“Without qualms?”

On the screen, her lips had twisted in a wry smile. “I have been designed to carry out my duties without doubt or reservation.”

“And yet you will not fire on civilian targets?”

“Correct.”

“And you don’t see a contradiction there?”

Her face grew solemn. “I was built for war, Captain, not for butchery.”

I tried not to think about the final days of the Archipelago conflict, and the atrocities I’d witnessed.

“I have a feeling,” I said, lowering myself into the command couch for the first time, “that you and I are going to get along just fine.”