"I don't think we should worry too much." Noma finally said as she was looking over the results of the scan on her own screen. The antivirus software of the ship hadn't found any unwanted programs on its drive and with both the data core and my computer disconnected from the network there wasn't a risk of the ship getting infected with any viruses now, but that didn't exclude a previous security breach.

A few minutes ago, I had seen the warning of a possible malware on the data core and, obviously, did the logical thing: I panicked. I never had to deal with any sort of hacker attack or similar during my work before, and the only help I could rely on had been the bits of advice I memorized from Zoe's lectures about internet safety.

Unfortunately, I mainly just remembered to run a scan before connecting any suspicious devices (which I had conveniently forgotten yesterday) and not much more. I had never actually expected to run into such a problem, after all. But I guess no one ever expects to have a hacker problem in the middle of interstellar space.

Eventually, though, I remembered that the data core had still been connected to my computer which was logged into the ship's network, so I had pushed myself down the ladder shaft and basically ripped the cable out of the data port and shut the computer off, before removing its battery as well, just to be absolutely sure.

On my way back, I had run into Noma just leaving her cabin in fresh clothes, and explained the situation back in the living area while she made herself an after-workout snack. Apparently, she decided that letting the nutri-bars I definitely wouldn't put anywhere near my mouth go 'bad' - as if they weren't already - would be a waste and ate them mixed with another one of her caffeinated drinks to combat their dryness. Normally, I might have commented about it, but I had still been too preoccupied with the potential hacker attack. After finishing a few of the bars, Noma eventually activated a holographic display on the table, and after a few seconds of scrolling and clicking through the menus started a scan of the ship's systems.

"What do you mean, we shouldn't worry?" I still felt a bit of my previous panic, but I suppressed it by focusing my energy on how to fix the problem instead.

"Chances are if we haven't had a problem by now, we most likely won't in the future. We're not even sure if there really was a virus or malware or something on the data core and if it was, it would have to be older than both of us put together, and certainly older than the ship's protection." Noma responded as she took another sip of her coffee, seemingly unaffected by the situation, nor my own state of mind. Her untroubled demeanor did get me to somewhat calm down, however.

"Okay, but what if it... like, hides or something? Shouldn't we do something?" But again, Noma just waved off my worries.

"That's not how these things work, don't worry. The core is already disconnected from the ship or any transmitters and if it somehow got onto the ship, I doubt it could do anything without us noticing. You should know that better than me." Technically, Noma was right. Safety measures and how they operate were the most important thing I learned back at the yard, after all. But just because I knew how hard it was to mess with the reactor or the engines without anyone noticing, didn't mean I liked the idea of just waiting and hoping for nothing to happen.

"Besides, we already did all we could for now. We can't very well shut down the reactor while we wait for someone to pick us up. For now, we should worry about what to do with the Fuchs instead," she continued.

"...Fine, but I still don't like it. We should at least send a message back to the system." I eventually gave in. Noma was right, again. Neither of us was very skilled in computer security and it would be pointless to try and find an infection that might not even exist.

"We can do that, sure," she agreed while sipping the last of her coffee and letting the cup float idly in her hands. After a few moments of thinking she spoke up again, though, for a moment, I thought I misheard what she said: "Only problem is the weapons, though."

"Ehh... what?" I was a bit lost about what she meant with that non-sequitur and Noma seemingly recognized my confusion as she continued.

"Sorry, just thinking out loud. The big problem with even reporting the ship is the weapons."

"How so? I thought they were non-functional?"

"They are, and that is the problem... Think about it: a marine leaves the military, buys herself a ship, and just randomly finds an almost functional warship in the middle of literal nowhere a few months later." Noma actually seemed a bit conflicted about that, but I still didn't really see the problem.

"But it's not like we did anything to the ship, right? Can't we just tell them how we found the corvette here?"

"We could... Hell, we probably should, but again, the weapons are a problem. You said it yourself yesterday, they didn't want a functional warship to fall into the hands of the first person that randomly found it, so they dismantled it. The problem is the guns weren't destroyed, they were taken apart, and technically I would have the knowledge about how to dismantle the weapons and you would know about all the other stuff. Add to that, the possible malware on the core, so they would have to take it planetside for analysis and couldn't do it on scene and you know what we would look like?" Noma eventually said, while looking back up at me.

"...I don't know? Scavengers?" I answered with a shrug.

"We'd look like pirates." Noma suddenly said with a small laugh. "Or black market salvagers, at least."

"What? How?" Pirates?! Seriously? Aren't they supposed to be like the stereotypical villains of a lot of stories? How would anyone think that about us? "Besides, we could just show them our own logs."

"I didn't say they would actually believe we are. Obviously, there is no evidence we did anything illegal out here, but with our own data core potentially compromised, they would have to take it back planetside, as well." Noma let out another amused laugh at the situation, "And that would mean we would spend the next few weeks in the brig of whatever patrol picks us up. Worse still, if we just gave the notice and ditched, it would absolutely look like we did something criminal out here." After a few more moments spent laughing to herself, Noma let out a long sigh.

"Haa... this is definitely not how I imagined this job would end up."

After thinking about what she said, I realized she might actually be right. Sure, we could try to explain our situation and I doubt anyone would mistake the two of us as actual hardened criminals, but it could very well end up as a few weeks in custody and a potential bureaucratic nightmare to work through.

"So, what? We just leave the ship here?"

At that, Noma spent a few moments thinking over the possibilities we had, before lightly shaking her head.

"No, I think we could still gut the ship. Most of the parts there are either identical to civvy stuff or too old to raise any flags anyway, so it should be fine to sell them. Only the weapons stuff is a problem, so I say we take what we can get away with and leave the rest here."

After a few more minutes of back and forth, we came to the conclusion not to notify the authorities, at least for the moment. Chances were, they already knew about the ship being stranded out here and just never got around to claiming it themselves. Except for the weapons, we were also in our legal right to treat the ship as legitimate salvage after however many decades it had been floating in deep space.

Also, we decided that tugging the entire ship, like we had talked about before, wasn't worth it all things considered. As I mentioned before, it would have turned our two-week trip back into a two-month-long affair, and even though I might have liked the time to understand what exactly it was I felt for Noma, I wasn't really ready to worry my family just for that. They were all expecting to hear back from me in a few weeks, after all. Plus the time Noma invested into pulling along the ship could be spent on other lucrative opportunities, and my own contract technically only covered the ice hauler job I had spent the last few days on, so it wasn't like we were letting the potential paycheck go for nothing. And finally, we already had all the necessary equipment onboard to relieve the Fuchsbau of its most valuable systems, so why not use them?

"You strapped in?" Noma asked from her seat in the captain's chair behind me, while I was sitting in the center-left position of the bridge: chief engineer. It was the position closest to the door in case something broke down during the flight and the engineer had to fix it. To my right was the empty pilot chair and beyond that the electronics and communications position. Technically the bridge was modular and had room for a lot more people, but I suspected Noma had just left it in its standard configuration when she got the ship.

"I'm ready," I answered her question and a moment later could feel the reactor increase its output more than actually hear it. After a few seconds I felt the engines start accelerating us, and, for the first time since we found the Fuchsbau, I experienced gravity again. It was weak, only a fourth of a g, but it felt comforting in a weird way. Perhaps it was a part of my animal brain that never felt comfortable in the state of freefall, despite spending so much time outside. Normally I wouldn't have strapped in at such a low thrust, but the reason why I did it anyway became clear about thirty seconds later.

"Prepare for flip," Noma called out and I felt the gravity vanish again at almost the same time.

We had kept a safe distance of two and a half kilometers when first approaching the corvette and were now closing in to dock with the abandoned ship. Thankfully every bigger ship had the bridge located exactly at its center of rotation to avoid the worst of centrifugal forces, so the straps of my seat were probably still overkill, but as they say, better safe than sorry.

Another thirty seconds later and the airlock we had previously used on the Fuchsbau was directly across the secondary airlock of the Seal, although at a 90-degree angle. Meanwhile, the two of us had gotten ready in the main airlock, meaning the one that opened to the cargo hold at the front of the ship. Inside we got suited up without much banter. My mind was already shifting into work mode and I opened up the checklist for all the tools I would need. Noma, for her part, accompanied me in silence similar to how she did back with the ice hauler job.

Inside the cargo hold, I could see the parts of that poor ship strapped to the walls and stacked upon one another, as well as a few standard containers of whatever goods Noma had onboard before I joined up. All in all, the job I had actually been hired for only took up about a third of the cargo volume and that left more than enough space for the systems of the Fuchsbau. Making my way past the dismantled life support and electronics systems, I eventually found the small container of work tools I had brought along from the yard, though small was used relative to the ship here.

Opening the container door, I was greeted by the two work drones, each about five meters across, strapped to the inner walls to my left and right. They were inactive right now and one's battery was already halfway depleted, but I ignored them for now, as I picked up the heavy-duty toolbox and a few foldable containers strapped to the far end instead. Back in the cargo hold, I thanked Noma as she took a few of the things off my hands and we made our way to a small passageway out of the cargo area.

Our position was just above the two airlocks now. They were already connected with a docking bridge, although they didn't have an air tunnel and were exposed to the hard vacuum of space. I was just about to float down after Noma when I remembered I had almost forgotten my little ritual. So, accessing my helmet's camera app, I took a photo of maybe the only military ship I would ever have the chance of taking apart and added a little digital sticker to its corner: 'Before!'

Time to shipbreak!