Thirty minutes later, Eidolon lay dark, 330000 klicks from the Abattoir ship. Harking sat in his command chair, the holographic projection of the ship’s tactical AI displayed before him. The bridge, like the rest of the ship, was dark, all functions shut down but for the necessary ones.

“The Abattoir?” the AI asked.

“Keeping its distance, as we’d hoped,” Harking replied. “One thing about the Abattoir, for all their brutality, their insistence on using flesh in their technology opens up certain… weaknesses. Your EM field serves as a useful deterrent.”

“Indeed, but it will also likely attract others who will not be so easily dissuaded.” replied the AI. “So, how can This One help you?” The AI’s insistence on referring to itself in the third-person had unnerved many ship captains. Several had tried to convince it to take a different name or use first-person references. One had attempted to reprogram it. Nothing had worked. Harking couldn’t have cared less, which is why This One had ended up on his ship.