Chapter 5: The Core...

1 Timothy 4: 12-16

“Let no man despise thy youth; but be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.  Till I come, give attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine.  Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery.  Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to them; that thy profiting may appear to all.  Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in them: for in doing this though shalt both save thyself, and them that hear thee.”

Moose closes the Bible in front of him and carefully places it beneath the second open Bible to his left.  He slides his coffee aside, then his pens and notebook, clearing the space with quiet intention.  He then settles back into the helm’s chair, removes his hat, scratches his head once with a brief, scrunched expression, then sets the hat back on and pulls the brim low again.

Art-bot and Q-bot watch without speaking—ready—eyes tracking his movements as his hand slips beneath the console.  There is an audible click.  The whir of gears turning fills the quiet of the helm and a panel opens on Moose’s console.

Slowly, a strange sphere rises.

Art-bot’s digital breath stills as the sphere clears the lip of the console.  She doesn’t reach for it.  She doesn’t smile.  Her head tilts slightly to the side, listening more than looking.  “That’s… not standard issue,” she says quietly.  Her eyes trace the segmented seams, the slow, patient glow at the sphere’s center.  “It’s old,” she adds.  “Older than most things that still work.”

Q-bot freezes mid-motion.  For a fraction of a second nothing happens—then her optics flare cyan, sharp and bright.  With sudden, lightning-fast precision, mechanical arms spring from her backpack.  Scientific instruments unfold in practiced sequence—sensors, counters, probes—each snapping into place as she launches into rapid assessment.  A soft, urgent tone bleeds into the helm, cutting through the hum of the ship.  A thin lattice of pale-blue symbols ghosts across the air, flickers, and collapses almost immediately.

It reads:

Q-bot leans in a little closer. Her head tilts, posture precise, instrument arms sweeping and adjusting as they scan.  “Zzzt…”  The sound is quieter than any she’s made before.

Art-bot finally looks away from the sphere and meets Moose’s eyes.  There’s no alarm in her expression.  Only focus.  Recognition.  “You got this at the First Last Stop,” she says.  A pause.  “You’ve been carrying it.”

Q-bot’s gaze never leaves the sphere.  Another line flickers into being—steady this time—and holds.

It reads:

“The time has come to insert the Mockingbird Core,” Moose says.  He rests a hand near the sphere without touching it.  “It needs work first.  I’ll have to open the shell—carefully—and rework the wiring so it can interface with human systems.  It wasn’t built for us.”

He glances up briefly, meeting both of their eyes.“And when I’m done with that…” Q-bot’s scientific arms retract smoothly back into her pack, locking into place.  Art-bot turns fully toward Moose.  “…we insert it into the engine room,” Moose finishes.  He straightens slightly in the chair.  “Q-bot, I need you to research power cores.  Anything even remotely like this—manuals, schematics, folklore, redacted files. I want everything.”

Q-bot gives a short, sharp confirmation tone and steps to her console.

Moose turns to Art-bot.  “And I need you to scan the ship,” he says.  “Slow. Deep.  Whatever this life force is—I want to know where it’s been, and whether it’s already awake somewhere else.”  Art-bot salutes and returns to her station.

Moose clicks another switch.  A second panel slides open beneath the console.  One by one, his tools rise into view—small screwdrivers seated in worn slots, coils of solder wire, a soldering iron already warming, a compact fan humming to life.  Each piece settles onto the desk in careful order, laid out with practiced precision.

Proverbs 8: 12-21

“I wisdom dwell with prudence and find out knowledge of witty inventions.  The fear of the LORD is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate.  Counsel is mine, and sound wisdom: I am understanding; I have strength.  By me kings reign, and princes decree justice.  By me princes rule, and nobles even all the judges of the earth.  I love them that love me: and those that seek me early shall find me.  Riches and honor are with me; yea, durable riches and righteousness.  My fruit is better than gold, yea than fine gold; and my revenue than choice silver.  I lead in the way of righteousness, in the midst of the paths of judgment: That I may cause those that love me to inherit substance; and I will fill their treasures.”