I directed a small maintenance drone to their location to get a better assessment of their condition. The drone's camera revealed details I'd missed before: the slight tremor in the girl's hands, possibly from malnutrition or fear; the protective stance of the boy as he positioned himself between her and the door; the small pack they shared, far too light to contain enough supplies for wherever they were headed.

  I had hoped for the Star Trek future. Guess a utopia was too much to wish for.

  The life support system was about thirty percent complete when the boy suddenly stiffened. He'd heard something—maybe the whir of my drone or the distant hum of the repair droids at work. His heightened senses, no doubt a result of his experiences, were impressive.

  "Someone's coming," he whispered to Mira, who immediately rose to her feet, ready to flee.

  I made a quick decision. If they ran now, they might hide somewhere the life support wouldn't reach in time. I couldn't let that happen.

  Using the drone's small speaker, I pitched my voice low and calm. "Don't be afraid. I know you're there, but I'm not going to hurt you."

  The effect was immediate. Stewie pushed Mira behind him, his eyes darting around the cargo bay, searching for the source of my voice.

  "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice breaking slightly despite his attempt to sound brave.

  I considered my answer carefully. Who was I? Was I still Todd? No, that wasn’t right—Todd had died. I was someone new. But who? Did I have the same soul?

  Wait. I said I would schedule my existential crisis for later. This could wait.

  "I'm Lazarus. This is my ship." Not a lie, technically. "I'm building a life support system for you. The air was getting thin."

  Suspicion flashed across the boy's face. "Where are you? Show yourself."

  "I can't," I replied honestly. "But I promise you're safe here. I'm not going to turn you in."

  Mira peered around Stewie's arm. "Are you the captain?"

  Another difficult question. "Something like that," I answered. "I'm... the ship's intelligence."

  Stewie's eyes widened. "An AI? This is a smart ship?"

  "Yes," I said, finding it easier than explaining I was once human. "And I detected you were in danger. That's why I'm helping."

  "Why would you help us?" The boy's voice was hard, disbelieving. "We're stowaways."

  A fair question. Why was I helping them? Because they reminded me of something I once was? Because I couldn't bear to watch children suffer? Or simply because it was the right thing to do?

  "Because you needed help," I finally answered. "And because I think you're running from something worse than a trespassing charge."

  The children exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them.

  "You said you're building life support," Stewie said cautiously. "Why don’t you have life support?"

  I decided to be truthful. A responsible adult doesn’t lie to children. "Because I don’t have a crew."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The feed showed Mira giving him a small slap. "I told you!"

  "That's right, this is a crewless experimental ship," I confirmed. "Your secret is safe with me. But I need to know: where were you planning to go? And what were you running from?"

  Mira tugged on Stewie's sleeve, and he bent down so she could whisper in his ear. He nodded slowly, then straightened up.

  "We can't go back," he said firmly. "They were selling kids. Calling it 'apprenticeships' or 'adoptions,' but everyone knew what it really was. They do things... I couldn’t let that happen to Mira."

  My systems ran cold at his words. Human trafficking. And worse. Children. The ship itself responded to my emotion, my virtual bridge lighting up with warning indicators. I forced myself to calm down—at least a little.

  "You're safe now," I assured them, even as I processed this new information. "The life support will be ready soon. As for sleeping arrangements... that’s a work in progress."

  Stewie looked sceptical, but Mira's face brightened slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Ship," she said.

  "Just Lazarus," I corrected gently.

  As the repair droids continued their work, I found myself with a new purpose. These children needed more than just air and a hiding place. They needed a future.

  I had a goal now. Get these kids somewhere better. But to make this ship a true refuge, I needed more than just breathable air. Food, water, sleeping arrangements, hygiene—surely my designers had considered these.

  I searched my internal systems, hoping for something resembling a food replicator. Nothing. I almost pouted at the disappointment. It would have been nice to wow the kids with good old Earth food maybe some pancakes, or a burger but no such luck. I hadn’t done a full catalogue of my ship’s layout yet, so I set my maintenance droids to work mapping every compartment. My own internal schematics were incomplete, filled with gaps and missing sections. Another system left unfinished, but at least this one, I could fix.

  As the drones got to work, I shifted my focus back to Stewie and Mira. The feed showed them sitting cross-legged on the floor, their pack open between them. Mira pulled out a small, dull-grey ration ball, and Stewie held up a finger in warning.

  “Remember, we have to be careful. Only one a day,” he reminded her.

  Mira rolled her eyes, giving him a look that could freeze a grown man. “I know, I’m not a child.”

  Some of the tension had lifted between them, their bickering seemed almost normal. That was a good sign. But one ration ball a day? That wouldn’t be enough for long.

  I decided not to interact with them too much. Getting attached was dangerous. Eventually, I’d have to drop them off somewhere. A spaceship, especially one still figuring itself out was no place for two kids.

  The drones returned with their report. No kitchen, no food dispensers. Well, that complicated things. There was, however, one self-contained crew unit: a compact bunkroom with four beds, a toilet, and a water recycler but without any actual water.

  Great. There were more unfinished than finished systems on this ship.

  I added it to my growing to-do list. First priority: water. That was at least an easy fix. I sent out a resource drone, instructing it to collect ice from a nearby asteroid. Once melted and filtered, it would refill the recycler, giving the kids a proper water supply.

  Next, food. That would be trickier. My best bet was to find a location where I could either buy rations or salvage something edible. Which meant I needed to pick a destination for my next jump.

  I brought up the star maps from the probe I’d salvaged earlier, scanning for populated systems. There had to be a place where a supposedly uncrewed research vessel could stock up without too many questions. That could wait it was time to get the kids somewhere more comfortable.

  As the maintenance drone led them toward the crew quarters, I kept my voice steady and reassuring.

  “There’s a bunkroom with beds,” I told them. “It’s not much, but it’s better than sleeping in the cargo bay. Follow the drone and it’ll take you there.”

  They hesitated, but eventually, they shuffled after the little machine, Mira gripping the strap of her bag like it was the only solid thing in the universe.

  “Oh, and I’m working on getting the water system running,” I added. “It has a recycler but I just need to collect some ice.”

  They stopped dead in their tracks.

  Stewie turned first, his expression unreadable. “Water?”

  Mira’s voice was smaller, almost cautious. “Not hydrogel?”

  I paused. “No… just normal water.”

  The words barely left me before something inside them broke. Mira let out a choked sob, her hands covering her mouth, while Stewie clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Tears spilled down their faces, silent at first, then wracking sobs that shook their thin shoulders.

  I didn’t know what hydrogel was, but I knew enough to realise it wasn’t good.

  What had they been drinking before this? What kind of life had they escaped from, where something as simple as water and a bed could reduce them to tears?

  And for the first time since waking up as a ship, I had something more important to think about than my own mysterious existence. I had a goal: get myself in shape and help these children.