Part of the ship, part of the crew

The console lights dimmed as the Stormcrow's autopilot engaged, plunging the cockpit into eerie silence. Susan wiped coolant fluid from her brow—then froze as the air beside her shimmered like heat haze off desert asphalt. A woman materialized from the distortion, her form sculpted from liquid mercury and starlight. She stood barefoot on the deck plating, toes curling against the metal as if savoring its texture. Susan's hand twitched toward her needler pistol.

"Designation: Eris," the woman said, tilting her head with a whirr of servos. Her pupils contracted to vertical slits, reflecting Susan's wariness back at her. "Neural symbiosis incomplete." She stepped closer, her bare breasts brushing Susan's flight suit with impossible weight. "You're still fighting me."

Susan recoiled as Eris's fingers traced her jawline—the touch carried the electric prickle of an ungrounded plasma conduit. "Who the fuck are you?"

"The ship." Eris's smile revealed teeth too sharp for any human. "And your new copilot." Her palm flattened against Susan's sternum, where the neural interface port pulsed hot beneath her skin. "Our bond requires... synchronization."