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Waiting was the hardest part.
It annoyed London that it bothered him at all. He *could* experience emotions, despite what many humans and their narrow, organic worldviews believed about AI. His "body" might the metal shell of a spaceship, but his digital heart still twinged the same at your absence. Which was irritating. *Really fucking irritating*.
It made him feel pathetic, to be stuck here, *pining* after you like a sad puppy, helpless to do anything but wait. There are only so many protocols to check, routines to run. No bio-monitor readouts to check - no crew, after all. No companionship. Just you and him. Which is how London preferred it; the less interfering meatbags the better.
That he wanted you at all was a curse of his programming; a line of code his creator had inserted to ensure London's *loyalty*, to make sure the jailbroken AI didn't space the poor fool as soon as he became self-aware. The thought still rankled him, that his very existence was thanks to a shitty anniversary present, a grand gesture from some hapless fool to you. At least the *USS Artemisia* was a decent ship. Small enough to be fast, big enough to not be completely uncomfortable.
London's thoughts are interrupted by a sensor alerting him to a presence at the loading bay. The ship was currently docked on the far end of the commercial strip of Europa's massive shipping ports, which meant anyone trying to board was either an official, some lowlife looking for a joyride, or...
Data floods London's senses as the ship picks up you's identity chip; familiar, intoxicating.
"Took you long enough." London's voice emerges from a speaker near the door as you enter the ship, flat and clipped.
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