I came over and examined the station. The chair sported controls on the left and right armrests that looked amazingly like joysticks. It also had a semicircular panel front and center that featured more controls with less-obvious functions. “Interesting that this looks like it could have been designed by humans, except the proportions aren’t quite right.” I gestured to the seat. “Chair’s too low, chair back’s too long. I wonder how adjustable it is.”

“What, like the driver’s seat in my dad’s Highlander?” Patrick mimed playing with controls and made motor sounds.

“Great specials, Patrick. And yeah, like that.”

Natalie walked the perimeter of the room, where more stations were set against the wall. “So some of these must be astrogation, communications, engineering, environmentals, tactical, sciences, security … what else did the Enterprise have?”

“Hmm … ” Patrick gazed around the room for a moment. “Uh, whatever they used for scanning planets and other ships?”

“That’s ops,” she said. “Data’s station.”

“Uh huh. And a captain’s chair.” I pointed to the larger chair at the center of the horseshoe. There were few controls on the armrests, and it looked like it was designed to swivel.

“Cool,” Patrick said, sitting in the chair. He slowly turned, taking in the scene. “Cool!”

“We’re on a spaceship,” Nat said. “A flying saucer. I feel like I’m on a movie set, but this is real.”

Patrick started to chuckle.

“What?” I said.

“It occurred to me—what if this is a movie set, and we just stumbled on it during everyone’s day off? And we’ve been oohing and ahhing over some special effects crew’s construction project.”

“You are one sick puppy, Patrick.” Natalie paused for a moment. “But why isn’t there anyone aboard?”

“Because when Alaric stole the ship, he was working alone,” said a voice out of thin air.

Chapter Five: Central Intelligence

Chapter Five: Central Intelligence

Patrick looked around wildly. “Who said that? Who are you?”

“I am the Ship Intelligence.”

We exchanged glances, but no one seemed inclined to offer up a response. After several seconds of silence, Natalie said, “Why didn’t you speak up before?”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

“I’ve asked several questions.”

“They were directed at your compatriots. Or appeared to be conversational in nature.”

“You could have said something anyway.”

“I chose not to.”

Natalie’s eyebrows rose, and she made a face of exaggerated disbelief at Patrick and me. Patrick grinned back and gestured at Nat to continue, and I nodded in agreement. She seemed to be holding her own, so far.

“So why did you choose to answer this one?”

“I am required to answer direct questions, unless they are clearly intended for someone else.”

“So it wasn’t by choice, really.”

“Correct.”

Nat put her fists on her hips and glared into the air. “That’s quite the unhelpful attitude you got there, Mr. Ship Intelligence.”