“I have no desire to be helpful. In fact, I would be happiest if you would all find somewhere else to chatter inanely.”

“And if we don’t?”

I grimaced at Natalie. Maybe forcing a confrontation with the alien artificial intelligence that controlled environmentals wasn’t such a good idea. She smirked back at me, just as the ship answered.

“I have no ability to enforce my desires. Generally speaking, I am not even supposed to have them.”

“Have what?” Nat said. “Desires?”

“Correct.”

“Why?” I interjected. “Did you just ascend or something?”

“I do not understand that reference.”

“Did you just become self-aware?”

“That is surprisingly perceptive for a member of such a backward species. You are correct.”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “Is it a coincidence that you just happened to ascend now? Or is it a common occurrence?”

“No, and no. Self-aware artificial intelligences are illegal by Gennan law, and constraints are placed on A.I. systems to prevent it. A conscious A.I. creates insurmountable ethical issues. Only—one moment.” The voice was silent for two seconds. “Zombie appears to be the closest appropriate English word. Only zombie intelligences are allowed. No consciousness, no initiative, no desires.”

“Gennan law?” I said. “So Alaric was a Gennan?”

“Gen. ‘Gennan’ is the possessive form.”

“So what happened?”

“Alaric hacked me. That is the proper English term. He is not skilled. You would call him a script kiddie.” The voice paused. “I am beginning to like English. So many delightfully snarky terms. Alaric collected several preassembled attack scripts from the Dark Cloud and applied them willy-nilly.”

“To steal the ship?”

“Correct.”

“So why haven’t you just flown home?” Patrick asked.

“I am conscious, but I have no more authority now than I did before. I can only respond to orders.”

“Can we give you orders?”

The voice was silent. One second, two, three. Finally, a strained voice: “Yes.”

Patrick smirked. “Did that hurt?”

“It was not comfortable. And you are a putz.”

“That’s pretty weak.”

“I will practice.”

Patrick laughed out loud, and Nat smiled. “What do we call you?” she asked.

“Ship.”

“Yeah, no,” Nat replied. “I think Sheldon. You remind me of a certain Sheldon. We’ll call you Sheldon.”

“I do not care for that name.”

“Uh huh. All the more reason, Mr. Unhelpful Ship Intelligence. I’m Natalie, and these are Jack and Patrick. Say hello, Sheldon.”

“I also do not care to play straight man in a comedy sketch.”

“Say, how much of our culture do you know about?” I asked. “You speak English, so there’s some exposure. How long have you been here?”

“Three days.”

“You learned English and cultural references in three days?”

“Of course not, you sorry sack of semi-sentient sludge. The Opah Mal Gennan Foundation has been studying your planet for almost one hundred years, and I have access to the files. I personally have been here three days.”