The tow was slow, nerve-wracking, and silent. But they made it.

  The Millennium Seagull and its prize, the Starlight Runner, drifted into the shadow of a large asteroid at the edge of the Dead Sector. They were out of the interference zone. The ghosts, for now, had been left behind.

  Ford sat on the bridge of the Seagull, exhausted. He was eating a packet of dried kelp-chips and staring at the massive white ship floating beside them on the viewscreen.

  "I have an idea," Carol said.

  She was sitting in the co-pilot seat, legs pulled up, tapping thoughtfully on the armrest.

  "I'm listening," Ford mumbled, tossing a chip into his mouth. "As long as it doesn't involve going back in there."

  "Can we somehow..." she searched for the right word. "Reflag this ship as the Seagull?"

  Ford stopped chewing. "Excuse me?"

  "Look at it, Ford. It's a Class 4 Hauler. It has three times the cargo capacity. It has military-grade shielding. It has a coffee maker that probably works."

  "It's also stolen," Ford pointed out. "And registered to the Orion Syndicate."

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  "It's missing," Carol corrected. "Presumed lost. If we strip the transponders... if we wipe the hull numbers... and if we install our own identity codes..."

  She turned to face him.

  "The Millennium Seagull is just a name. A registration number. Why can't we put that name on a better ship?"

  Ford looked at the rusty dashboard of his ship. He looked at the duct tape holding the air vent together. He loved this rust bucket. It had been his home for twenty years.

  But he also remembered the way the Runner had hummed when they engaged the reactor. Smooth. Powerful. Safe.

  "Mother," Ford said to the ceiling. "What do you think?"

  The ship's AI voice crackled over the speakers.

  "Transplanting my Core Logic and Identity Matrix into a Class 4 vessel would require a complete system purge of the host mainframe," Mother replied. "However, the Starlight Runner possesses a localized Quantum Processor. My processing speed would increase by 400%."

  "And the legality?" Ford asked.

  "The Trucker's Code, Article 12: 'Finders Keepers'," Mother cited. "It is... acceptable."*

  Ford laughed. "Note to self: Mother is also greedy."

  "It makes sense, Ford," Carol pressed. "We're smugglers now. We need speed. We need shields. We need a ship that doesn't smell like curry every time we jump to hyperspace."

  Ford sighed. He looked around the cockpit one last time.

  "What do we do with the old girl?" Ford patted the dashboard.

  "We strip her," Carol said ruthlessly. "We take the parts we need. We take the cargo. And we scuttle the hull. We make it look like the Seagull was destroyed in an accident. That way... if anyone is looking for you... Ford the Trucker died in Sector 9."

  It was brilliant. It was cold. It was exactly what he expected from her.

  "We die," Ford said slowly. "And we are reborn in a luxury cruiser."

  He crumpled the empty bag of chips.

  "Okay," Ford said. "Let's get the tool kit. We have a transplant to perform."