“Mr Ship uhm I mean, Mr Lazarus—you’re back!” Mira beamed.

  If I’d still had a heart, it would’ve stopped from sheer cuteness overload. That smile, that unfiltered joy—genuine, unguarded.

  I’d been overthinking everything.

  Wrapped in the spiral of self-doubt, buried in questions about identity, legacy, and whatever passed for a soul in my current state. I had forgotten the most basic truth.

  Cogito, ergo sum.

  I think, therefore I am.

  That Descartes fella knew what he was talking about. I bet Mr Welkin wouldn’t have suspected one of his students would be using his lesson on philosophy like this.

  It didn’t matter if there were other Todds out there. Didn’t matter if I wasn’t the “real” one, whatever that meant. I was me. And I think and that was enough.

  “It speaks?” asked the male scavenger—the one I now recognised as Kel. With my crisis cleared out, I could finally pay attention to them properly. The internal scan placed them somewhere between twenty and twenty-five years old.

  And they were clearly related. Bright ginger hair, sharp blue eyes, similar bone structure. Probably fraternal twins, if I had to guess.

  The woman who was still staring at the kids hadn’t spoken. Shock plastered her face like she was trying to catch up to a conversation she never expected to be part of.

  “Of course, he speaks!” Mira snapped, stepping forward with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “And you take that back. Mr Lazarus is nice and would never space us!”

  Stewie moved to stand between them, arms crossed, projecting every ounce of teenaged menace he could muster.

  “…Yeah,” he muttered. “I mean… he’s alright.”

  High praise, coming from him.

  Kel raised his hands defensively, taking a cautious step back. “Hey, I didn’t mean any offence. Just… surprised. Ships like this don’t normally act like this”

  “Like what?” Stewie asked, arms still crossed.

  “Like the ship is alive,” Kel muttered. “The Todd class ships we’ve seen—they don’t talk. Not unless they’re giving orders.”

  “I’m not like the others,” I said through the nearest speaker, calm but firm. “You’ll find I have... a personality.”

  He gave an awkward laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

  He cleared his throat and gestured to his companion. “Name’s Kel. This is my twin sister, Lynn.” Yes, I got it right.

  Lynn offered a hesitant nod, still eyeing Mira like she couldn’t quite make sense of her presence.

  “Pleasure,” I replied. “Welcome aboard my ship—however unplanned your arrival was.”

  I welcomed them aboard, even if their presence hadn’t exactly been voluntary. Still, formalities helped. Little did they know, I had plans for them.

  Reliable sources of information had been hard to come by, and these two scavengers, intentionally or not, were gold mines. They knew about the outside world, the state of the galaxy, the current norms—things I was sorely lacking. But even more useful than their knowledge was what they’d brought with them.

  Their ship.

  Small. Lightly armed. But packed with systems I could use.

  While I played host, I’d already issued silent commands to my drones. Disassemble the vessel. Catalogue everything. Salvage anything useful.

  It was the least I deserved after the mental spiral they’d launched me into.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The scan results were already filtering in. No kitchen—of course. Just more of those dense nutrient balls. No help there.

  But the long-range scanner? Fully compatible. It would be installed shortly, finally granting me proper vision beyond spitting distance. No more flying blind.

  As for the stealth generator—too small for full coverage, but potentially modifiable. If I could source more nanites, I might just get it operational.

  Their ship was gone, stripped clean before they even realised it.

  And mine… was getting stronger.

  Stewie glanced toward the airlock. “Uh... is it supposed to sound like something’s... grinding?”

  “Probably just maintenance,” I answered smoothly. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Wait,” Kel narrowed his eyes. “That’s our—”

  “Was,” I corrected. “Your ship was docked. Technically, it’s now salvage. Compensation, let’s call it, for the rather inconvenient encounter you initiated.”

  “You’re dismantling our ship?” Lynn stepped forward, indignant.

  “I already have,” I said. “And don’t worry, I’m not wasting it. Your long-range scanner is being installed as we speak. I’ll no longer be flying blind thanks to your generous contribution.”

  Kel stared at a bulkhead like he could somehow see the pieces being ripped apart behind it. “Unbelievable…”

  “Oh, and your stealth generator—small, underpowered, but promising. I’ll make good use of it.”

  “You’re robbing us.”

  “I’m upgrading,” I replied. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. I could’ve left you in orbit with nothing but a lifepod and a warning.”

  Lynn folded her arms, still glaring. “So what now?”

  “Now?” I said. “Now we eat.”

  Mira started giggling, cracking through the tension like sunlight through clouds. “The soup is really nice.”

  “It’s okay… for alien goop,” Stewie muttered.

  “You say that, but you didn’t want to share,” Mira shot back.

  Their bickering sparked a flicker of warmth inside me it was comforting, familiar. I had my jerry-rigged cooking droid prep another batch of soup, slopping it into improvised containers. Kel and Lynn had cups from their scavenger kit, and filled them up without hesitation.

  Lynn took a sip first. Her eyes widened. “Okay, what is this?”

  Kel followed, then coughed in disbelief. “This… this is actually good.”

  Just how bad were those nutrient balls?

  Food was a connection. I remembered that much from being human. A shared meal could ease suspicion faster than a hundred polite words. So while the four of them sat down, awkwardly grouped around the drone’s serving pod, I asked what I really wanted to know.

  “So,” I said, “tell me your story.”

  Kel seemed to be the more talkative of the pair. Lynn watched him with narrowed eyes, ready to pounce if he veered too far off the truth.

  They explained they had been part of a legitimate salvage crew. It had been a family business—parents, siblings, cousins, all running together on a mid-sized hauler. Honest work. Decent pay. Until they took a contract to salvage a Keltar ship.

  The Keltar were a peaceful race, but huge, so naturally, their ships were massive, even the small ones. Alien tech always brought in top-tier payouts, and a Keltar hull? That was jackpot-level salvage.

  “We couldn’t believe we got the job,” Kel said, shaking his head.

  “You got the job,” Lynn corrected. “You did the scans.” I could tell it was still a sore point.

  They brought the ship back to their salvage yard. It looked clean. Cleared. They’d run all the tests. At least, Kel thought he had.

  It self-destructed on arrival.

  The explosion took out over a hundred kilograms of Telks' worth of equipment and their parents had to sell their ship and everything else just to cover a fraction of the debt.

  “So now,” Kel muttered, swirling the last of his soup, “we’re out here. Looking for anything. Even started considering RepoJack work.”

  “Target solo ships near life-bearing planets,” Lynn added. “Low risk. No witnesses.”

  “This was our first job,” Kel admitted with a shrug. “Clearly, we’re not good at it.”

  No argument there. But for now, they were warm, fed, and grounded.

  And more importantly, I had two new assets aboard.

  And I knew exactly how I would use them.

  I hadn’t considered the option before well not seriously but now it made perfect sense. Salvage.

  I had systems missing across the board. No weapons, limited drones, jerry-rigged cooking units, no medical bay, no proper defences. If I could recover and install enough tech, I might actually feel complete or at least functional enough to risk returning to a major system.

  And the twins? They had knowledge. Experience. Contacts.

  They had lived in that world—the network of scavengers, brokers, backdoor trades. If I played this right, they could help me upgrade without setting off any alarms.

  While I was contemplating my next steps, Lynn was off talking with Mira. I caught snippets through nearby drones it was a light and curious conversation at first. But then Lynn’s tone shifted, her concern growing. She asked gently where the two had come from, how they’d ended up on a ship like mine.

  Stewie answered with a single sentence. Flat. Heavy.

  “The Boss wanted her for an apprentice.”

  Lynn’s face fell. Her eyes hardened. She understood immediately.

  Kel didn’t even ask for clarification. He just reached over and clapped Stewie on the shoulder. “You did the right thing, boy.”

  The mood quieted after that. Food eaten, emotions worn thin—it was time for sleep.

  Stewie led the twins toward the cramped crew bunk.

  Kel let out a low whistle as he stepped inside. “These NeuroGenesis types don’t mess around. Real pillows?”

  Compared to the conditions on their ship, it might as well have been a five-star hotel. A quick review of their ship’s internal layout confirmed it: they’d been sleeping in human-sized tubes—coffin racks, barely padded, zero insulation.

  Their bunkroom might be basic, but it had beds, privacy dividers, and functioning temperature control.

  Luxury, by their standards.

  Let them rest. They’d be busy soon enough.