Jupp tried the access code again, but nothing happened.

 

The pirates must have changed it.

 

Jupp ground her teeth. She retrieved a hydraulic mine the size of a marble from her pocket and stuck it to the door seam, patting the exterior of the ship in silent apology. The doors cracked with a poof. Jupp pried them apart enough to pull herself through.

 

She glided past a dark-clad space pirate floating harmlessly where he’d passed out. Her injection of Night Gas into the ventilation system from the exhaust valve had worked its drowsy magic perfectly — worth the small fortune she’d paid for it.

 

They could steal her ship. They could power everything down so the lights wouldn’t come on when she breached the doors. But this was her sentient vessel — they couldn’t stop her from stealing it back.

 

Jupp eyed another slumbering thief on her way to the bridge. They were well equipped for pirates. Expensive weapons. Matching clothes. Not quite how she remembered the motley crew that had caught her in their gravity wave nets two days ago. Worry niggled at her. Had they sold her ship to a mobster?

 

I’ll have to check for tags. Can’t have them tracking me around the solar system.

 

Jupp passed one more pirate (henchman?) and she was at the bridge. Once she powered up the ship, she could see how many thugs were on board and where they were located. Then she’d offload them. But that would take a while, and the effects of the gas would only last half an hour — if the cyborg who sold it to her could even be trusted. She had to work fast.

 

She glided to the console, reaching out to catch herself on the handhold. Her fingers closed around air and her fist bumped into the hull. The handhold wasn’t there.

 

Idiots.

 

They hadn’t wasted time modifying things to their own liking. Hopefully they’d only messed with cosmetics.

 

She set her palm against the hand reader, waiting for the ship to hum its usual greeting.

 

“Come on, girl,” she murmured as the seconds ticked by with no response. “It’s me.”

 

Still nothing.

 

Jupp sighed. A pirate attack would make any sentient vessel skittish, but they didn’t have time for sensitivity. She depressed the blue emergency power button.

 

The ship fluttered to life, lights flickering as they came on, a quiet hum emerging from the engine room to spread through the outer hull.

 

That’s better. You okay?

 

Electricity flooded the hand reader. Jupp snatched her hand away.

 

“What was that for?”

 

The engine noise deepened. Pipes grated in a rumbling growl.

 

“Oh, for the ice on Mars! I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know they were pirates? But look! I got you back! Everything’s fine.”

 

Jupp reached up to the ceiling. She closed her eyes, hoping the ship would communicate like a reasonable sentience. The vessel was guarded, but an impression finally came through to Jupp.

 

Who are you?

 

Jupp’s eyes popped open.

 

What?

 

The ship didn’t answer.

 

Jupp pulled her hand away, mind racing. The different guards, the missing handrail, the lack of recognition from the ship all clunked into place like a manual override lever.

 

Wrong ship.

 

“Toxins of Juppiter.” Jupp muttered the oath even as she reached up again to push off the ceiling. She glided through the ship as fast as she could, colliding with slumberful bodies in her rush to get out before the ship decided to lock her in for the guards to deal with once they awoke.

 

That was what they were. Jupp realized it now, seeing them in full light. Not pirates or mobster henchmen, but legitimate, well-equipped guards.

 

“Juppiter’s gasses!” Jupp swore again. She must have broken into the private vessel of some general or planetary administrator.

 

“It was an accident!” she yelled, hoping the ship would believe her. They had connected for a moment. Had the ship sensed her intentions? Would it even care?

 

Jupp rounded a corner, and the exterior door came into view. It was shut.

 

The ship wasn’t going to let her leave.

 

But not for nothing was Jupp a sentient vessel Rider. She reached out to the palm reader next to the door, bracing for another electrical shock as she made contact. A moment passed, and Jupp pressed her forehead to the hull in relief when nothing happened.

 

The ship was listening.

 

I’m sorry. I thought you were my ship.

 

Jupp closed her eyes and tried to let the ship read her without creating a two-way connection the sentience might find intrusive. She ignored the nearby rustling of a guard who was waking up.

 

The hum of the engine nearly stilled. Ship and human paused together, communicating in that way people who didn’t love sentient vessels couldn’t understand. Jupp sensed a shift in the sentience and held her breath against hope.

 

The exterior door slid open.

 

Thank you.

 

She pushed herself through the opening.

 

Vmmmm.

 

Jupp caught a handhold on the dock and looked back. The vidcom screen next to the door lit up with a map of the orbital docks. It was too small for Jupp to discern details without getting so close she risked being captured.

 

As if the ship had read her mind, the door closed again. Jupp grinned. She pushed herself back to the ship and focused on the vidcom. One red circle pulsed at their location, and another on the other side of the screen at the far end of the docks, three levels planetward.

 

Jupp flattened her palm against the hull.

 

Is that her? Is that my ship?

 

The metal warmed under her hand.

 

“Thank you,” she breathed. She willed gratitude into the hull with both hands. The clever, compassionate vessel vibrated acknowledgment.

 

Jupp grinned. She gave a final pat to her new friend, then pushed off.

 

She had another ship to steal.