Shell can walk without support, and jog for short periods. She clearly does not have Bridge Unreality Syndrome. The x-ray comparison shows one of her incisors as worn down since she went to sleep. Bruxism.

She stands in her pod now, finally ready to take charge, tilting and cracking her neck like a boxer.

“Ragtime, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Campion.” Why is he calling her that? Doesn’t he remember?

“In seed time learn, in harvest, teach…”

“I don’t understand, Campion.”

That would be too easy, of course. “Ragtime, am I cleared by medical?”

“Yes, Campion.”

“Activate my IFC.”

“Activated.”

“I’m taking control.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Holy fuck.

The entire display is flashing red. Not a few items – everything. Outside the pod, emergency lights are on. The maintenance bots are active. Artificial gravity is on, so count that blessing. Shell’s IFC searches and finds a socket into a terminal, and she starts running checks that turn the red to amber and most others to green. Her left hand works worry beads that are not there.

Many of the problems have already been dealt with by maintenance bots, but they require acknowledgement from Captain: A small leak in the water recirculation. A sensor array knocked askew by space junk or a micrometeoroid, fixed by the Big Dumb Arm and the extra-vehicular bots. It looks less diarrhoea-inducing after a while. Shell finds herself wondering what happened to the primary AI.

“Ragtime, how long since Captain went down?”

“You are Captain.”

Stupid.

Secondary AI is basic and has trouble recognising individuals. It sees roles; therefore, “Captain” means whoever the captain is at any given time, otherwise it will develop an internal conflict.

“Ragtime, how long since you have been active?”

“Five hundred and sixteen hours.”

Three weeks. So, one week before I woke up.

“How long since the ship stopped?”

“The ship is still in motion.”

God, this is tedious.

“Are we at destination?”

“Yes. Stable elliptical orbit around the colony Bloodroot.”

Thank fuck for that. “How long have we been in orbit?”

“Five hundred and sixteen hours.”

So the primary AI piloted the Ragtime to destination, then shut down. Why?

Shell makes a quick check of the passengers before a planned diagnostic debug of the AI…

What the hell?

“Ragtime, I’m only showing 969 passengers!”

“Correct.”

That isn’t right.

Don’t lose ’em; don’t break ’em.