The inside of Carolina's helmet was dark, lights dimmed in sleep mode as she gazed out at the jumbled interior of the ship. It was her ship now, if possession counted as nine-tenths of the law and she'd murdered its previous occupants.

It's not like she'd intended on killing them when she came aboard. She could pass a lie detector with a, "I just came to get the tech. If they'd handed it over, I would have gone on my merry way." Of course, nothing ever turned out like that. Not on any of the other thirty-seven excursions she'd gone on to reclaim lost Freelancer tech, and certainly not on this one.

She supposed she could lay down on one of the beds the ship presumably had. From where she sat she could count...onetwothree four bodies, meaning that there were at least four beds.

But ever since the Mother of Invention, she'd had trouble sleeping like a normal person, or even taking her armor off for a shower. Plus, with it still on, the healing unit could operate at low power and do a better, safer job on her wracked body.

She'd taken a hit in the fight; inevitable in a self-imposed job like this, and not even Epsilon was infallible. She didn't blame him, not that he would listen. He thought he could carry the world on his shoulders now that'd come to terms with his AI superbrain, but Carolina knew that no matter how smart you were, there were some things you just couldn't avoid.

"Epsilon," she said, short and fast.

"Yeah Lina? What's up?"

His response was immediate. Carolina knew he hadn't been asleep, but sometimes he pretended he could just for her sake. It was hard to have any illusion of privacy when your robot-brother-thing kind of lived inside your head.

"Stop beating yourself up," she told him.

"I wasn't," he replied a little too aggressively to be telling the truth.

"Sure," she said. "That's why internal diagnosis have been pinging nonstop."

"...That doesn't mean I'm beating myself up," he grunted. As much as an electronic voice could grunt. Carolina extended her hand, and Epsilon got the message, appearing in her palm in his little blue ghost form. "I'm just checking on you alright? That's my job."

Of course it was more than that, but she had learned not push him when he was all angry and self-hatredy. Instead, she twitched her finger providing a small support Epsilon's hologram could lean again.

"Okay," she said after chewing her lip considerably. "I'm going to ask you a question then."

"Uhg, fine," he replied, still irate.

"Do you think I'll die?"

"What?" he snorted, his holographic helmet jerking up as he did. "What the fuck sort of question is that?"

"An easy one. Come on Epsilon, just answer me: do you think I'll die?"

The silence in her radio told her enough of her partner's exasperation. He probably felt like she was testing him. In a way, he wasn't too far off. "Statistically, yes," he huffed finally.

"You know just because you're a robot doesn't mean you have to add 'statistically' onto everything."

"Hey hey, artificial intelligence jackass, not robot. I don't have a fucking body. I mean, unless I decide to possess you or something."

"Please don't do that," she said drily.

"And I meant what I said. Every human who's ever lived has died. So statistically, yes you will."

Carolina nodded, the sound of her own breathing loud in her ears. It was so quiet in her armor with the power off, even with the gentle beeps of the ship in autopilot. She could go crazy in here if she didn't have that little voice in the back of her mind.

"Epsilon," she said, taking her time with her words. "Some day, I'm going to bite it. You might even think it's your fault. But the way I'm living right now, It's going to happen sooner rather than later. So just...if it ever happens, don't kill yourself over for too long alright? For me."

Epsilon was silent, the little hologram looking at its knees. Finally he said, "well, technology marches on. For all you know, I might die before you."

Carolina laughed. "Dying and becoming obsolete aren't the same thing you fucking drama queen."

"You'd be surprised," he said, and she couldn't miss the smirk in his voice. With a flicker, he dissipated from her hand and nestled back into her mind. "Get some sleep Lina. We work best when you're not bleeding all over the place."

She smiled. He sounded...better. Maybe he was right, and they'd be lucky enough to die at the same time, never living a day without each other.

Closing her eyes, the blips of the autopilot drove her to sleep.

We can only hope.