"Death of a Starship" by Jaslynn Middleton

When enough affection has been given to an object, it develops its own lifeforce. It acquires a personality and develops loyalties and preferences just like any other living creature. Have you ever threatened a computer or sacrificed blood during a repair project? The device works afterwards, doesn’t it?

Taking the soul of a starship is a serious endeavor. The end of their lives is not the same as a mortal death. They do not have heart attacks. They do not die in their sleep. They are not taken down by predators as part of the Great Circle of Life. And when a starship dies, she does not die alone.

The heart of a starship is not the engine as one might think. Just like each starship design is different, so is the location of her soul. The Sabrina was birthed from the affections of her favorite engineer, who often combed through her interior wiring to patch a shorted circuit. He dreamed of special modifications just for her when he crawled into his bunk at night, and although his bunk no longer existed, torn out long ago and replaced with a seating area for passengers, his affections were strongest there.

Following a polite exchange, I interjected myself between two lovers perched upon the bench and knelt beneath the seat. It took only a few tender words to coax the Sabrina to follow me into the Great Unknown.

The lovers, enamored with one another, did not see me depart, nor did anyone else, and the abandoned shell of the Sabrina continued on its course to Antares. She would never reach her destination.