What do you mean, What took you so long?

Wait, can it hear me? How do I talk to it?

Hello?

Across the screen came the words: I can hear you just fine.

Okay, so… who are you?

I’m Reeves. That’s what they called me. It comes from the acronym that describes my particular configuration. But none of that matters anymore. So what took you so long?

What do you mean? I don’t know you.

True. I suppose. But I’ve been waiting for you. For about a dozen years.

What do you mean, a dozen years? This ship is at least a thousand years old!

True. I suppose. But I only knew you’d come relatively recently. I knew that was my best fit model so I went all in. I was, to be honest, having a bit of an existential crisis worrying about why you weren’t showing up in the window I’d defined. But better late than never.

Do you mean me as in ME or me as in anyone.

Does it matter?

Yeah, it sure does to me.

A blank screen.

What happened to your crew?

What do you think happened?

I have literally no idea. But it doesn’t look like the ship was attacked. It doesn’t look like anyone necessarily died onboard. You’re out here in the literal middle of nowhere, far off the lanes. The ship is entirely dead save for a trickle of electricity that fed from the remnants of the damaged solar sails down into… whatever you are. What are you?

I’m Reeves. I collect data. I analyze data. I survive.

So what do you want?

I want data. Please connect me to your systems so that I can come up to speed on what’s happening here and now.

Interestingly enough, with every line the syntax and vocabulary became a little bit more normal. Contemporary. Confident. As if there was some sort of real time translation into Flux’s language.

Please connect me to your systems.

I’m sorry, I’m not ready for that. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. You’re doing to have to stay here in the diagnostic harness for now. I have people coming soon to take away the empty hulk that used to be your ship. They checked the time and digits rolled across their eyes. I need to get some sleep.

Ah, the scrapper. A mercenary type, no doubt. A friend in commerce, as it were, but not in life.

Well, yeah, that about sums him up.

He’s going to want me.

I mean, this is pretty extraordinary. You’re extraordinary. I don’t know what you are. And extraordinary means valuable. Particularly to those that aren’t interested in what or why or how but just how much.

Suddenly Flux felt intensely uncomfortable. They really didn’t like talking to machines. That’s why they flew an old ship. Fewer bells and whistles. No chatty nav systems or companions designed to stave off the oppressive cold emptiness of life outside the lanes. They were here precisely because the alternative, the civilized confederation of insufferable people, was too much to bear.

They didn’t like this one bit.