White light pierced his eyes before his brain had finished waking up.
Shura frowned and turned his head to the side, seeking refuge in the dimness. He blinked several times until his pupils adjusted. The ceiling was low, made of polished metal, and a faint blue light coursed through the panels as if the ship were breathing.
The first thing he noticed was that nothing hurt.
That was strange. He remembered the bullets. He remembered the blood soaking his shirt, the burning in his side, the cold rising up his legs as he crawled through the forest. But now, as he moved his fingers, turned his neck, took a deep breath… nothing. As if he had never been wounded.
He sat up carefully. Beneath him, a white cot vibrated with a soft hum. The room was small, with gray metal walls and a single light source in the ceiling that flickered with a constant rhythm. Too constant. Too artificial.
"Where…?" he murmured, but his voice was lost in the echo of the place.
Then the door opened.
It didn't slide or creak. It simply became liquid for a second, as if the metal dissolved, and then re-formed to give way to a slender figure that made him hold his breath.
It was a robot. But not like the ones he had seen in old movies or in the workshops of the lower sector. This one was elegant, with clean lines, limbs so thin they seemed fragile but moved with impossible precision. Its head was a white metal prism with a single sensor glowing amber.
It stopped a couple of meters from the cot, tilted its head slightly, and spoke with a metallic yet surprisingly soft voice:
"I am glad to see you have awakened, Master."
Shura blinked.
"Master?"
The robot tilted its head the other way, like a curious bird.
"Yes. You are the new registered user of the Lumielle. Therefore, you are my new Master."
Shura opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again.
"I think there's a mistake. I just… fell into a hole."
"It was not a hole," the robot replied calmly. "It was an emergency access hatch. You activated my systems when you made contact with my main console while wounded. Your blood established the biological bond."
"Your console?" Shura ran a hand over his face. This was too much. "Wait. Who are you?"
The robot straightened, and its sensor pulsed with a brighter hue.
"I am Moon. Artificial intelligence charged with being the assistant and administrator of the Lumielle. My primary function is to ensure the well-being of the current Master and maintain the ship's operations. I have been in standby mode for…" it paused, as if calculating, "…approximately three hundred terrestrial cycles, according to my calculations."
"Three hundred years?" Shura felt his head spinning. "And your former masters?"
Moon was silent for a moment. Then, its voice sounded softer, almost respectful.
"My previous masters were a pair from the Vaelith species. They were navigating in search of a cure for a deadly illness that afflicted them. They traversed countless systems, but never found what they were looking for. Three centuries ago, while attempting to cross this planet's atmospheric field, their systems suffered a critical failure. They… perished upon impact. With no one to give me orders, I activated the standby protocol and remained hidden underground, waiting for a new user."
Shura stared at her. A robot that had waited three hundred years for someone to fall into her hatch.
"And that new user is me?"
"Yes, Master."
"Just like that? Because of a drop of blood?"
"The biological contract is the most sacred bond for the species that built this ship. It requires no words nor ceremonies. Only a genuine connection. Your blood… was sufficient."
Shura opened his mouth again and closed it. He wanted to say this was all madness, that he was just a sixteen-year-old kid who owed money to mobsters and had slept with the wrong girl. He was no one. He didn't deserve an interstellar ship or a robot that called him "Master."
But the words didn't come out.
"What is your name, Master?" Moon asked.
Shura looked at her. Her amber sensor glowed with a steady, patient light.
"Shura," he finally replied. "My name is Shura."
"Welcome aboard, Shura. From now on, the Lumielle and all its systems are at your disposal."
Shura was silent for a few seconds. Then, as if a spring had triggered in his head, he looked up with a question that had been circling him for years.
"Moon… is there life in space? Outside Earth?"
The AI seemed amused by the question. Her sensor blinked twice before responding.
"Yes, Master. The universe is inhabited by countless species. The galactic community is organized into sectors, each governed by dominant races. There are alliances, conflicts, trade routes, academies, empires… a civilization that spans millions of systems."
Shura felt a shiver that wasn't from cold. He had always suspected it. The nights at the orphanage, staring at the stars from the rooftop, he thought it couldn't be that they were alone. But hearing it confirmed by an AI that had traveled the universe was something else.
"So…" his voice grew lower, "…why hasn't any of those species found Earth? Why hasn't anyone arrived?"
Moon tilted her white prism as if considering the question carefully.
"Earth is located in a region of space known as the Black Zone. These are sectors where life is nearly impossible according to the parameters of most species. There are few established routes, little exploration, and no empire has shown interest in colonizing those areas. For the galactic community, searching for an inhabited planet in the Black Zone would be like…"
"…like looking for a needle in a haystack among thousands of stars?" Shura finished.
"Exactly, Master. That is an accurate analogy."
Shura nodded slowly. It made sense. Humanity wasn't special; it was just hidden in the most remote corner of the galaxy, where no one bothered to look.
Moon observed him in silence for a moment. Then she asked:
"Do you have any other questions, Master?"
Shura looked up. For a moment, his mind was a whirlwind. He had a thousand questions. About the ship, about the universe, about aliens, about what was going to happen now. But his stomach growled so violently that it drowned out any other thought.
"Yeah," he said with a crooked smile. "Is there food? I'm hungry."
Moon blinked her sensor in a tone Shura interpreted as satisfaction.
"Of course. The ship has a molecular synthesizer capable of generating food according to your nutritional needs. What type of food do you prefer, Master?"
Shura opened his mouth to say whatever, but Moon continued before he could speak.
"I can prepare Andromedan graleth, a liquid crystal soup highly regarded by spacefarers. Or perhaps you would prefer tah'nir, a dish from the Xylos federation that combines plant proteins with a controlled fermentation sauce. I also have records of zor'vath, a delicacy of the insectoid clans that—"
"Hamburger?" Shura interrupted. "With fries and a soda. Can you do that?"
The silence that followed was so deep Shura thought he had broken something.
"Hamburger," Moon repeated, as if savoring the word. "Fries. Soda. I do not have those concepts in my database."
"Ah… well, then whatever—"
"Allow me a moment, Master."
Moon's sensor blinked rapidly, and a low hum filled the room. Shura watched her, confused. Something had happened.
"I have connected to your planet's communication networks," Moon announced suddenly. "I have recorded and processed all available information: history, habits, culture, gastronomy, social concepts. The hamburger is a food of terrestrial origin, specifically a preparation of minced meat in bread with accompaniments. Fries are a derivative of a tuber, and soda is a sweetened carbonated beverage. Is that correct?"
Shura's jaw dropped.
"Yeah… yeah, that's right."
"Excellent. The synthesizer will take a few minutes to replicate the exact molecular composition. In the meantime, you may rest. The food will be ready shortly."
Moon turned on her base and headed toward the door. But before crossing it, she stopped and turned her sensor toward him.
"Master."
"Yeah?"
"Welcome aboard," Moon repeated, and her metallic voice seemed to acquire a warmer tone. "It is good to have someone to serve."
With that, Moon moved away and crossed through the same door that opened as if it were liquid, leaving Shura alone in the room.
Shura stared at the empty space where the AI had been. His mind was still struggling to process everything: the ship, the aliens, the Black Zone, the biological contract. But above all, one idea was beginning to take root in his head with unexpected force.
A ship.
A real, functional spaceship, with an AI that called him Master and could travel among the stars.
He let himself fall back onto the cot and let out a short, almost hysterical laugh.
"A hamburger?" he said to himself. "Of all the things I could have asked for, I asked for a fucking hamburger."
But as the echo of his laugh faded among the metal walls, something in his chest loosened. For the first time in years, perhaps for the first time in his life, he had no one chasing him.
No debts.
No threats.
He was free.