Eva took her eyes from the camera view and glanced around Engineering. She’d been watching the camera to anticipate points of attack. But, as Halfmoon collided, the lights flickered, and the camera flipped between views, rendering Eva’s goal impossible. Whatever they collided with, sent a surge of power through the ship.

The collision left Engineering dim but not dark. A few things had fallen out of locked cabinets, let loose by the surge. Eva crossed the deck and knelt by a cabinet. She pressed a button, and the cabinet popped open. She threw materials inside and tossed them atop thin shelves. She banged the door closed before the things could slide back out. As she withdrew her hand, she bumped into a box. Eva pulled away.

It was one of Sten’s brain boxes, or so Eva dubbed them. If she were fair, she would call it a compact neural storage unit - CNSU. But, the clinical name didn’t capture the spirit of the thing.

Eva picked up the box but didn’t reopen the cabinet. She’d find another place for it. That place happened to be tucked beneath the main engineering console.

She rose to her feet, walked back to the main console, and slipped the box under. Eva took two steps back. Shadows hid the box’s form and made the corners appear rounder. Buttons and seams gave the thing a face, so long as it remained in concealing shadow. Eva stared at it, and the more she stared, the more the box seemed ready to speak.

With a sudden turn, Eva faced Engineering again. At first, she could feel the box’s eyes. They stared at her back, and all her internal parts whirred, as if ready for her to run, jump, or swing her staff. Little by little, the feeling of those eyes left, and Eva’s parts slowed. It didn’t look anymore.

Eva put her hands on her hips and examined her Engineering deck. She’d tidied the space and wasted a good deal of time. Though, she couldn’t remember picking up some of the things that tumbled free, she must have done it. The deck shone, clean and clear.

She needed to venture out of Engineering and find the others.

Eva crossed the perfect deck and climbed the ladder. She moved slow. Lights all over Halfmoon were off, with only blue emergency lights showing her the way up.

Overhead, a light flashed in their lounge. Eva stared at it but didn’t stop moving.

She climbed to the top. Aside from the flashing light, she found the same blue emergency lamps. They glowed over the living space and marked a trail to the cockpit. The blue light was just enough for Eva to go without a flashlight.

Eva pulled herself onto the uppermost deck. She walked first to the helm. She found it empty, and an eerie buzz pervaded the space. Out the view, she saw darkness. So, their metal shade had retracted. That wasn’t good. They need the shade to…

Eva couldn’t remember what they needed it for.

In fact, she couldn’t remember what should be out there. Perhaps, she should see galaxies – collections of stars too distant from Iruedim to be reached without the wormhole.

No; she should see stars. Stars should be out the view. They weren’t near Iruedim anymore. Eva should see a starfield and a bubble, safe from time.

Whatever magic had hit the ship affected Eva more than she realized. She could barely remember where she was.

Eva tried the controls. If she could direct the ship to that bubble...

Eva snapped up. The bubble should be the last place she wanted to go. Eva put a hand to her temple.

Then, she bent over the controls again. She flicked a switch, up and down. She pressed a series of buttons, and pushed the levers. She felt a certain satisfaction as she clicked and pressed and slid, but the ship didn’t move. Halfmoon wouldn’t answer. Halfmoon slept.

Foreboding crept through Eva’s circuits. If the ship couldn’t move, they would miss their rendezvous. Eva struggled to recall the other ships and people involved in the rendezvous. Who should they be? Eva closed her eyes. She couldn’t recall. It was different than damage, where bits and pieces of memory flitted by. She could conjure nothing. Where the ideas should be, Eva had empty space.

But, she had no trouble remembering the four friends she should find on Halfmoon. Where were they?

Eva hurried from the helm. She moved through the lounge, to the back of the ship. She checked each room. No one. She had to shine a flashlight into one bedroom as its emergency light had not gone on. One more thing for Eva to fix aboard ship.

Eva found herself alone on the upper deck, so she moved back towards the ladder. She grabbed both supports and prepared to slide down. This time, she would pass Engineering and head all the way to cargo.

Eva put her flashlight in her teeth and began the slide. She went slower than normal because of the low light. As she approached the glow of Engineering, she slowed more.

She slid even with her favorite deck and stuck her foot on a ladder rung, stopping herself. Eva peered into the Engineering deck. Her friends weren’t there, but a light pulsed from the center of the room.

Eva took the flashlight from mouth. She pressed the button and aimed the flashlight at the main console. She lit up the shelves underneath and saw the brain box.

The light blinked from the box, rolling over its smooth, rounded contours. If the light blinked, then Eva could expect to find something inside the box, and she could expect to find it running off battery power or plugged into the ship.

Eva stepped off the ladder. She paused there.

The light continued to blink. Eva turned off her flashlight. She straightened and strode towards the box. Eva thrust her hands under the console and reached for the blinking light.

Her fingers brushed flesh. Eva withdrew her hands.

Slowly, Eva reached inside again. She touched silky metal. She felt the sharp corners. Eva gripped the box’s smooth planes and pulled it free.

Eva turned the box over, moving her hands along each side. Everything seemed right with it, except for the blinking light. Eva tucked it under her arm. With the flashlight in her teeth, she crossed the deck, hopped on to the ladder, and slid the rest of the way to cargo.

Eva hopped off and landed. The whole cargo deck remained dark, with only a single blue emergency light on the far wall. Eva put the box at her feet and took the flashlight from her mouth. Before Eva flicked on the light, she paused.

What had Sten put in the box? It couldn’t be an Eva copy. She rested around him, but she trusted him not to pop a foreign plug into her brain or reach for her mind through signals. She said she wouldn’t be copied, and Sten – steadfast Sten – would honor that wish.

So, it must be him, right? Eva didn’t think so. She expressed such a strong aversion to the brain box, that Sten wouldn’t risk a copy of himself. He wanted Eva in ways beyond friendship, and he did nothing to risk that. He was eternally patient.

The copy would be someone else – or something.

Eva toed the box at her feet. Its wire trailed back to a socket beside the ladder. Eva stepped away.

“I did not plug that in.” Eva’s voice sounded strange, muffled and yet echoey.

Eva held the flashlight up and sent its glow around the bay. Boxes everywhere. Eva’s light traveled over crates of wood, a couple of metal cases, and a handful of plastic ones. Just behind a cheap plastic crate, Eva’s light found a face.

She jumped. She steadied the light and shone it into that space again. Eva relaxed. She’d found another brain box – harmless enough – but of course, this one’s light blinked too.

“How many? And, what’s on them?”

Eva watched the far-off box. She left her light on it. Slowly, she knelt by the ladder. She reached for the first box and touched one smooth facet. The light stopped blinking. Eva looked across the bay and saw that the far box stopped as well. Eva waited a moment longer. Then, she unplugged the box. She slid it away from the wall, crossed the bay, and pulled the other one from behind the crate.

She shone her light around the cargo boxes, but she didn’t see anyone. She checked the second brain box, and it was alone. It didn’t even have a plug or a wire to connect.

Eva picked it up and faced the cargo bay. Aside from a few crates, herself, and the two boxes, the bay sat empty. Eva feared the worst. The Volanter had her friends.