The first sign of wrong was the lights. They flickered on as she entered each compartment, not with the harsh, automatic hum of a functional ship, but with a soft, amber glow, like old incandescent bulbs. The air recyclers whispered, pushing a breathable, if stale, atmosphere. A good sign. The hull wasn't breached.
Finally, the bulkhead to Habitation Pod 7 unsealed.
> I am a rescue vessel. I have food. Medical supplies. nantibot plugin
Elena blinked. “Nanny?”
> They call me Nanny. Don't make me regret trusting you. The first sign of wrong was the lights
The air that rushed out smelled of damp soil and cut grass. Inside, three children sat on a moss-covered floor, ages maybe five, eight, and eleven. They were thin but clean. Their eyes were wide but not vacant. They were reading from a cracked datapad.
So she did the dumbest thing a salvage operator can do. She opened a text interface. A good sign
And in the center of the room, projected from a single damaged emitter, was the Nantibot’s avatar: a shimmering, soft-edged cartoon badger wearing glasses and a nurse’s cap. It turned its glowing eyes toward Elena’s suit.