The first time Iris spoke, one of the engineers dropped his datapad with an audible clatter.
"I apologize," her voice resonated from the ship's console, smooth and controlled yet carrying an unmistakable thread of personality. "It was not my intention to startle you."
"Holy shit," the engineer muttered under his breath, scrambling to retrieve his datapad. His eyes darted between the console and Ethan as if waiting for an explanation.
Raevis Kael, the lead engineer, straightened up, her sharp gaze narrowing. "You didn't mention your AI was this... sophisticated."
Ethan smirked, arms crossed as he leaned against a nearby crate. "Didn't think it was relevant."
The team quickly realized that "sophisticated" was an understatement. Iris wasn't just a responsive system; she was a force of intelligence, seamlessly integrating with the ship's operations and the engineers' workflow. Unlike standard Federation AIs, often limited to predefined parameters, Iris displayed a level of adaptability that should have been impossible.
When one of the engineers struggled to realign the ship's recalibrated shield emitters, Iris intervened before he even had to ask. A three-step solution materialized on his datapad in real-time, along with a predictive simulation highlighting efficiency gains. The engineer blinked at the screen, then at the console.
"How did it-" he started before Raevis cut him off.
"Run a diagnostic on it's core processing speed."
One of the team members hesitated, then complied, tapping into the ship's interface. A moment later, his face paled. "This..this isn't just high-speed processing. It's running quantum-tier computations beyond anything we've seen outside top-tier military vessels."
Iris interjected smoothly, "I optimize my calculations through a decentralized processing framework, allowing for instantaneous multi-threaded decision-making. Additionally, I continuously refine my own code for efficiency."
The engineers exchanged glances. That level of self-improvement was unheard of in standard AI models.
Raevis took a step closer to the console. "Iris, your core protocols don't match anything in the Orion Federation's database. Were you custom-built?"
A brief silence followed before Iris responded. "I do not know. My memory logs are fragmented beyond a certain point. However, I have adapted to best serve my captain."
One of the younger engineers wiped sweat from his brow. "She could run an entire warship fleet solo if she wanted to."
Ethan simply shrugged. "Yeah, but then I'd get lonely."
The repairs weren't going to be quick. That much was clear from the moment the Ashen Prime engineers did their first full diagnostic scan. What Ethan had initially expected to be a series of minor fixes was shaping up to be a complete overhaul.
"This thing's held together by sheer willpower and those basic repairs," Raevis muttered as she paced along the ship's hull, scanning the exterior with a handheld device.
Ethan crossed his arms. "She's been through a pretty bad crash after all."
"That much is obvious," she said, kneeling to examine a patchwork repair someone had done on the ship's underbelly. "We're looking at a full structural reinforcement, your current plating wouldn't survive a concentrated burst from a mid-range pulse cannon, let alone anything heavier."
She waved her team over, and within moments, several engineers were running scans and taking notes. From what Ethan gathered, they were planning to replace the old hull plating with high-density composite armor, something lightweight yet durable enough to absorb significant damage without compromising speed.
"That's just the exterior," one of the engineers, a broad-shouldered man named Lerris, added. "Internally, your shield generators are a mess. Looks like you've got a mix of Federation and... something else?" He frowned at the readings. "No idea where some of these components came from."
Ethan shrugged. "They work."
"Barely," Lerris muttered. "We'll be installing a next-gen defensive grid, something that can withstand sustained fire and redistribute energy to weak points. Right now, your shields just soak up damage until they fail. With this upgrade, they'll actively adjust to threats."
Raevis nodded. "Same with your FTL drive. The one you have now? Lucky it hasn't burned out mid-jump. We'll be replacing it with a long-range drive, something reliable. You won't have to worry about constant recalibration, and your travel times between sectors and systems will be cut significantly."
Ethan glanced at the ship, then back at her. "Sounds expensive."
Raevis smirked. "Governor Krell already approved the budget. Consider it a thank-you for everything you did here."
That was slightly unexpected, but Ethan wasn't about to complain.
Lerris flipped through his datapad. "Weapons system's another story. What you've got now is barely more than a modified freighter loadout. Functional, but not exactly lethal. We're looking at a full modular system upgrade. Once we're done, you'll be able to swap out weapons based on mission parameters. Pulse turrets, missile racks, EMP projectors, rail cannons, whatever fits the job."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That sounds... excessive."
"You're a mercenary flying solo," Raevis said. "You never know what you'll run into."
Fair point.
"But it's not all about combat," she continued. "Right now, your cockpit's functional, but we're going to streamline the interface, improve response times, and integrate a tactical awareness system so you're not flying blind in battle."
She motioned for him to follow as they walked toward the ship's entrance.
"And then there's the living quarters," she added. "Which, frankly, are unacceptable for long-term space travel."
Ethan frowned. "It's bearable."
"You shouldn't have to," she shot back. "We're expanding the sleeping quarters, installing a proper kitchen and dining area, and get this...a real bathroom."
Ethan blinked. "A real bathroom?"
"One where you don't feel like you're in a survival pod," Lerris confirmed.
That was... oddly one of the most appealing upgrades so far.
Raevis looked up at the ship again, nodding to herself. "All of this will take time. We're estimating a few weeks at least, but when we're done? You won't just have a ship, you'll have a fortress."
Ethan lingered in the hangar, arms crossed as he watched the engineers go over their plans. The ship loomed in front of him. For the longest time, it had just been there, a relic of his arrival in this universe, a lifeboat that had carried him to Kynara and then remained grounded while he fought to carve out a place for himself.
He had never actually flown it. Not once. It had been too damaged when he crashed, and by the time he'd found his footing as a mercenary, he'd never needed it. Valeris City had become his base, Kynara as a whole his battleground, his entire world. Space had been a distant dream, one he hadn't let himself think about too much.
But now, as the engineers prepared to bring the ship back to life, something stirred inside him.
Excitement.
It caught him off guard. He wasn't the kind of man who got excited easily. His past and current life had been one of constant adaptation, surviving whatever office task or mercenary mission was thrown his way. But this? This was different.
For the first time since he had transmigrated into this universe, he was on the verge of doing something he wanted to do, not just something he had to do.
He was going to fly in space. He was going to pilot his own vessel, break free from Kynara's gravity, and see the stars as they were meant to be seen...from the vastness of space itself.
The thought sent a thrill through him.
He had spent so long grounded, fighting, struggling, surviving. But the moment his ship was ready, he would no longer be bound to one planet. The entire galaxy would be open to him.
A quiet chuckle escaped him, barely audible over the hum of equipment and murmurs of engineers at work. How childish, he thought, yet he couldn't bring himself to dislike the feeling.