Stranded On Santa Astarta -

It was a circular vault, its door sealed with a cog-and-skull lock. Korr spent six hours communing with the machine-spirit before it hissed open. Inside, the air was warm. And it was breathing.

“You are not the ones I expected.”

On the day of launch, Valerius stood on the bridge. The brain, now housed in a small, portable sarcophagus, sat beside the command throne.

“Then we find one,” Valerius said.

“Negative, Captain,” Korr’s voice crackled. “The launch bay is compromised. The only remaining atmospheric craft is Cargo Hauler Seven. It is… sub-optimal.”

“I am the sum total of a world’s knowledge. I am the ghost of a forge that once built gods. And I am lonely.”