It had been a short trip as Calista was only two hours away from Ovkan—at least, the coordinates were. Because all they found there was empty space.

Val stared at the screen. All she saw were stars.

“You sure there’s nothing there, Nim?”

The disembodied voice was hesitant. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

There was a brief pause. “I think I picked up a signal earlier, but I can’t find it anymore.”

“What kind of signal?”

“Radio waves.”

She frowned. “Radio? Isn’t that, like, really, really old technology?”

“It hasn’t been used in thousands of years, except in some very extreme cases.”

“Extreme cases? How do you mean?”

“When nothing else works. It’s usually used as a last recourse, when everything else fails, as it can pierce through every other technology.”

She stared at the silent stars and they stared back.

“So what you’re telling me is the planet is still there, and that someone is trying to send a distress signal?”

“I never said that!” There was a touch of reproach in Nim’s voice. “I’m not even sure there was a signal at all.”

“So you imagined it?”

Another silence.

“Well, no, I don’t suppose I have. But I’m not picking it up anymore.”

“Maybe it’s scrambled. Didn’t they have various frequencies they used?”

“I can try going through different ranges.”

“You do that.”

As Nim went to work, so did she. With a few quick taps, she brought the information on the planet back on the screen. She had previously focused on the mystery of its disappearance, but now she wanted to know more about the world itself, its people, and the technology they used. Of course, all of that could have evolved in a century—assuming there still was something here at all—but it would give her something to work with.

“I found the signal,” said a puzzled Nim.

“What does it say?”

“I’m not sure it says anything. It’s just garbled noise.”

“Put it through.”

The speakers came alive as a high-pitched hiss invaded the bridge. It was filled with static and distorted notes.

She grimaced. “Okay, okay, turn it off.”

The bridge went silent again.

“Nim, do you have the exact coordinates of the planet?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be able to land on its surface without seeing it?”

A silence.

“I... I think so. But, Val... what if it’s not there?”

“Then we’ll just go through, no harm done.”

“Wouldn’t they have tried this a century ago?”

She scrolled through the displayed data and shook her head.

“If they have, there is no record of it. Doesn’t matter, anyway. I want to try it for myself.”

“Alright. Going down.”

Nim had barely said those words that the engine powered off.

“What the hell? What just happened?”

“I don’t know, Val.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? You just shut us down.”

“I did not.”

“Don’t you control—” She froze. Cursed.

“Val?”

“You still have control of the ship?”

“Of course.”

“Can you turn the engine back on?”

After a second, she heard it start. She leaned back in her seat, thinking.

“Alright. Maybe it was a glitch. Let’s try this again. Go down to the surface.”

The engine powered off.

She jumped out of her seat. “Damn it!”

Val stormed out of the bridge, heading for the hold.

“What is going on?” She could hear the panic in Nim’s voice. “Why is the ship not doing what I’m telling it to do?”

“I don’t know,” she half lied, “but we’ll figure it out.”

When she reached the hold, she found the compartment was still open like Kaine had left it. The panel, which he had placed on the ground, had slid to the other side of the room—likely when Juden had taken off so abruptly from Derkanash.

Inside the compartment, all she saw was a little red box with a couple of wires that ran to the side, connecting it to the ship. There were some light bulbs on the surface, but all of them were dark.

She knelt and stared at it.

“Well hello there.” She fell quiet, thinking. “Nim,” she said, never taking her eyes off the box, “turn the engine on.”

She soon heard the familiar and distant humming sound.

“Okay,” she muttered, “let’s try this again. Nim! Take us down to the surface of Calista.”

One of the light bulbs flashed a bright green as the engine died.

She jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at the box.

“Aha! I knew it! You are alive!”

Nim’s voice sounded confused. “The box is alive?”

She pursed her lips and changed the subject before he could piece things together. “Let’s try something else. Turn the engine back on, then move in the opposite direction from the planet.”

“There is no planet, Val.”

“You know what I mean!”

There was a moment of silence and, once again, she heard the hum.

“How far should we go?” asked Nim.

“We are moving?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, bring us back to the former position.”

“Shall I try going to the surface again?”

“No.” She knelt in front of the red box. Its lights had remained dark throughout the entire exchange. “Why did you bring me here if you don’t want me to go down to the surface? What was the point? What does any of this mean?”

“Why are you talking to that box?”

She remained quiet for a moment. “Okay, Nim, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“Well, this ship had another AI before you.”

“What?”

“It was... faulty, so I had to replace it.”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

She hated lying to Nim, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. It would hurt too much.

There was a long silence.

She looked up at the ceiling.

“Nim?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

Another silence.

“I... Yes. I just didn’t realize I could be replaced if I glitched.”

Her heart sank as she held back the tears.

“Never, Nim. I could never replace you.”