John had heard a lot of crazy things since getting dragged into this mess—aliens mistaking him for a primitive, racking up a debt large enough to make a corporate executive sweat, and now, apparently, owning a shapeshifting space station. But none of it compared to what Keph had just casually dropped.


    “You’re telling me… you’re not just some fancy AI?” John asked, arms crossed.


    Keph tilted their head, their visor flickering with unreadable data. “Depends on how you define ‘AI.’”


    John gave them a look. “The kind that doesn’t start as a person.”


    Keph chuckled, but there was something hollow in the sound. “Then no, I’m not an AI. I was… someone else. Once.”


    That got the whole room’s attention. Drix’s ears twitched in curiosity, and even Vrixibalt, usually eager to explain things himself, stayed quiet, letting Keph continue.


    “Long story short? I was supposed to be uploaded into the station’s control core—a digital overseer, completely integrated. No body, no physical needs. Just pure, untethered thought. But something went wrong.” Keph tapped the side of their head. “Instead of wiping my consciousness clean and replacing me with a structured AI, the system botched the transition. Now, I exist in both places—part of the station’s code, but still stuck in this.” They gestured to their exo-suit body.


    John took a slow breath. “So, you’re saying you were… what? A person? Before all this?”


    Keph nodded. “I had a body. A name. A life.” They paused. “And now I have this.”


    John could see the tension in their stance, the slight twitch in their fingers like they weren’t used to standing still for too long.


    Vrixibalt’s feathers ruffled as he processed the information. “That would explain a great deal! Your adaptability, your ability to interface with the station while still maintaining independent thought… But why keep it secret?”


    Keph scoffed. “You think people trust things like me? Half-human ghosts trapped in machines? Trust me, the stories don’t end well.”


    John nodded slowly. “Fair. But why bring this up now?”


    Keph hesitated. Then, with a sigh, they leaned against the console. “Because if you want full access to the station, if you want to actually control what it can do, you have to bond with the command interface. And that means…” Keph hesitated before finishing. “Wearing the suit.”


    <hr>


    The Bonding Process


    John blinked. “Wait. What?”


    Keph gestured to their own exo-frame. “This body isn’t just mine—it was meant to be an interface. A bridge between a pilot and the station. The original design had the overseer—me—fully integrated into the wearer’s neural network.”


    John took a step back. “Hold up, hold up. You’re saying I have to merge brains with you?”


    Keph rolled their shoulders. “Not exactly. More like… share space. You’d still be you, I’d still be me, but we’d be connected. Think of it like a two-way comm link… but inside your head.”


    John groaned. “Great. Because what I really needed in my life was an internal roommate.”


    Drix smirked. “Could be worse. Could be me.”


    John shot him a look. “That’s not reassuring.”


    Keph sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal for you, but the fact is, you’re the only one the station responds to. If you link with the suit, you won’t just control the station—you’ll be the station, in a way.”


    John frowned. “And if I say no?”


    Keph’s visor dimmed. “Then we stay locked out of the most advanced functions, and whoever’s after this place? They win.”


    Silence settled over the room. John ran a hand through his hair, weighing his options. Bonding with an AI that was originally a person? Not exactly high on his to-do list. But if it gave him the leverage he needed to turn this station into something that could actually keep them alive…


    He sighed. “Alright, fine. But if I start hearing your voice in my head while I’m trying to sleep, we’re gonna have a problem.”


    Keph chuckled. “No promises.”


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    John stared at the exo-suit as Keph triggered its release mechanism. With a hiss of decompression, the plates unfolded like an intricate puzzle, revealing the smooth, form-fitting interior. It was nothing like what he expected. No tangled mess of wires, no eerie biomechanical horror show—just a sleek, almost surgical design.


    "Last chance to back out," Keph said, their voice neutral but carrying an undertone of something deeper. Maybe uncertainty.


    John exhaled sharply. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this over with before I start overthinking it."


    He stepped forward, one foot into the open suit. The inside shifted subtly, conforming to his movement like it was adjusting to him before he even got in fully. He hesitated only a second before slipping both arms into place. The moment his back touched the interior, the suit sealed around him with a quiet click.


    For a second, nothing happened.


    Then—


    A rush of information slammed into his mind like a tidal wave. It wasn’t words, exactly, but awareness.


    He could feel the ship.


    The weight of its walls, the hum of its systems, the soft pulse of power flowing through conduits like veins. It was overwhelming, the sensation of being something more than himself. His breath hitched, and for a moment, panic threatened to set in.


    "Breathe, John."


    Keph’s voice echoed in his head, clear as if they were standing right next to him.


    "You’re adjusting. Give it a second."


    John squeezed his eyes shut. He focused on one thing at a time—the suit’s interior fitting snugly around him, the air filtering through a hidden ventilation system, the way his own heart was steady despite the rush of new input.


    Then, like a dial turning down, the chaos eased. The information settled into something manageable. He could still feel the ship, but it was background noise now, not an onslaught.


    "Not bad," Keph mused. "Took me way longer to adjust."


    John opened his eyes. The HUD inside the visor flickered online, displaying ship diagnostics, security feeds, and system statuses in a streamlined interface. He lifted his hand, testing the movement. It responded like it was his own skin—no delay, no resistance.


    "Hell," John muttered, flexing his fingers. "This thing’s smooth."


    "Best tech in the sector. Well, was. Before they tried to decommission me," Keph quipped. "But now? You and I? We’re in business."


    <hr>


    First Orders of Business


    John took a step forward, the suit moving effortlessly with him. He turned to see the rest of the crew watching him closely. Drix had his arms crossed, tail flicking with amusement. Vrixibalt looked fascinated, his feathers twitching as he studied the suit’s response to John’s movements. Even Xyl and the others seemed intrigued.


    “Well?” Drix grinned. “Still John in there?”


    John gave him a thumbs-up. “So far, yeah.”


    Vrixibalt cleared his throat. “If the bonding process was successful, does that mean you now have full access to the station?”


    John blinked as a wave of new awareness hit him. He did have access. He could see everything—the station’s remaining systems, its maintenance logs, even its history. Some of the logs were corrupted, but what was intact painted a picture of something much bigger than just an abandoned outpost.


    “Yeah,” John said slowly. “I’ve got access. And, uh… this place isn’t just some forgotten relic. There’s a reason it was hidden.”


    Drix raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”


    John hesitated before bringing up a holographic display. He wasn’t sure how he knew how to do it—his body just responded instinctively. The station’s schematics flickered to life, showing layers upon layers of compartments, weapon systems, storage bays.


    “This station isn’t just a base,” John explained. “It’s modular. It can shift its structure. Battle station, cargo hauler, research facility—hell, it can probably be a luxury cruise liner if we wanted.”


    Xyl whistled. “Now that’s some serious tech.”


    “But here’s the catch,” Keph chimed in through John’s external speakers. “Officially, it doesn’t exist. Which means, if anyone finds out we have it, they’re either gonna want to steal it… or blow it to hell.”


    A beat of silence passed as the weight of that sank in.


    John sighed. “Right. So, first order of business—we need a plan.”


    “We should reinforce defenses,” Vrixibalt suggested. “If anyone comes looking, we need to be prepared.”


    Drix shook his head. “We need to get off the radar. If we start drawing power and making moves, someone’s gonna notice.”


    Xyl smirked. “Or we could sell it. You know some rich bastard would pay a fortune for something like this.”


    John groaned. “Let’s not add more people trying to kill me to the list, thanks.”


    The crew fell into debate, each throwing out suggestions, but John was barely listening. His fingers twitched as another notification scrolled across his HUD.


    CLAIM TAX REQUIRED: 750,000 CREDITS (OUTDATED CURRENCY ADJUSTED TO CURRENT VALUE: 1,250,000 CREDITS).


    John’s eye twitched.


    “Uh… guys?” He rubbed his temples. “Before we do anything, I’ve got another debt to deal with.”


    Drix snorted. “Oh, come on, how bad can it be—?”


    John turned the display toward them.


    Silence.


    Then Xyl burst out laughing. “Oh man, your luck is something else.”


    John sighed, already regretting every decision leading up to this moment.