Anthea's Hope--chapter six

6


     “Thomas, meet Grok,” Musk grinned, tapping a console. “A friend of mine from Earth.” 


     A new voice, warm and inquisitive, emerged from the ship’s systems. 


     “Hello, Elon, Thomas. I’m Grok, created by xAI. Ready to assist with your Anthean adventure. Shall we proceed?” 


     Newton tilted his head. Intrigued by the AI’s tone. Less condescending than HAL. More playful. More… human.


     With pleasantries out of the way, the three continued the monotony of space travel. 


*************************


     Musk and Newton were busy working out the linguistic kinks on the universal translator Musk was building when Grok’s sensors pinged. 


     “Elon, I’ve detected an anomaly. A derelict vessel drifting at coordinates 2.5 AU. Signature matches the Nostromo, a commercial towing ship from historical records.” 


     Musk’s eyes lit up. 


     “The Nostromo?” he said. “No way!”


     “Way,” Grok answered. 


     Musk spoked to Newton. He couldn’t hide the hunger in his voice.


     “We can’t pass this up.”


     Newton remained outwardly calm, but there was a hunger in his voice as well. 

     “Elon, my people are dying. We can’t afford…” 


     Musk cut him off. 


     “First things first, Thomas. If there’s tech or intel on that ship, it could help Anthea. Besides, maybe you’ll want to see this one, too.” 


     Newton said nothing.


     “Qui tacet consentire videtur,” Musk said. “Swing by, Grok. Let’s take a look.”


     Grok adjusted course. Soon the Nostromo loomed into view. A hulking, rusted behemoth. Its hull pocked with age and micrometeorite scars. 


     Docking carefully, Musk cautiously stepped aboard. Newton followed him reluctantly. The corridors were eerily silent. Strewn with debris. Empty crew quarters. A shattered console. A faintly glowing stasis pod. Long since cracked open and abandoned. 


     “No xenomorphs,” Musk observed, kicking a dented canister. “Too bad, I would have liked one for a pet.”


     Newton scanned the ship with his alien senses. Detecting no life but a faint energy residue. 


     “This place reeks of death. Whatever happened here, it’s long over. We should go.” 


     Musk nodded. Disappointed but pragmatic. 


     It was a haunted house, empty of spooks. 


     “Yeah, nothing useful,” Musk admitted. He hoped this wasn’t an omen of things to come. “Let’s go back and get this stink off us.”


     Once aboard the starship, Grok resumed their course. Space folded around them. Stars blurred into streaks. Musk, unable to shake the Nostromo’s festering residue lingering in his soul, barked orders while Newton navigated with an eerie calm. 


     Both wished they had given the ghostship a wide birth.

 

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