"Yeah," he says, a soft smile on his face. "I do. And even if she weren't the last of her class still out there, she's still special, because she's my ship."
Before Hephaistos, he hadn't thought that way, not really. Andromeda had been his ship, and he'd cared for and about her like any captain would. Like any captain was trained to, would anyway because of the bond between the captain and his ship. But she's more than that, now. She's his home and his hope and the last thing he has from the world that's gone. More than that, she's one of the closest friends and confidants he has.
The long breath he lets out is almost a sigh and almost a laugh, caught somewhere between the two, his rueful smile making it more like a suggestion of a chuckle.
"It's not ideal. 'Skeleton crew' would be the way to describe it. We've got a crew of five plus the ship's avatar and a hell of a lot of androids to do the work of a crew of thousands. We couldn't do it if it weren't for Andromeda herself. She can handle a lot of her functions to at least some extent."
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Before Hephaistos, he hadn't thought that way, not really. Andromeda had been his ship, and he'd cared for and about her like any captain would. Like any captain was trained to, would anyway because of the bond between the captain and his ship. But she's more than that, now. She's his home and his hope and the last thing he has from the world that's gone. More than that, she's one of the closest friends and confidants he has.
The long breath he lets out is almost a sigh and almost a laugh, caught somewhere between the two, his rueful smile making it more like a suggestion of a chuckle.
"It's not ideal. 'Skeleton crew' would be the way to describe it. We've got a crew of five plus the ship's avatar and a hell of a lot of androids to do the work of a crew of thousands. We couldn't do it if it weren't for Andromeda herself. She can handle a lot of her functions to at least some extent."