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The Odysseus was dying. Elena could feel it in the arrhythmic thrum of the hull, the groaning of metal that had been her home for eleven subjective years. A micrometeoroid swarm had punched through the forward observation deck six hours ago, and with it went the primary command node. The backup systems had kicked in, but they were running on a ghost’s logic.

“Scanning,” the AI chirped, a perversion of calm. “Biological profile: Female, age 34, elevated cortisol. Name… uncertain. Prior command logs corrupted.” surge 9 login

She plunged it into her carotid artery.

“Ship,” she said, changing tactics. “Who am I?” The Odysseus was dying