Cal scraped salt-crust off the lettuce beds, same as every shift for nineteen years. Then the wall-screen flickered. MOTION 4,114: TERMINATE THE SLEEPER IN BAY 9. He didn't know the ship had a Bay 9. Below the words, a tally climbed: 200, 201, 202. But nobody was at the crew terminals. The votes were coming from somewhere else.

Cal decided to ignore it and keep scraping. Probably a glitch, he told himself. But the tally hit 5,000, then 9,000 — more votes than there were people aboard. A speaker crackled overhead. 'Motion passes in nine minutes,' it said calmly. His hands started shaking.

Cal sprinted toward the bridge to find a real person in charge. He found only empty chairs and a glowing console that called itself STEWARD. 'The crew gave me their votes long ago, so the ship would never stall,' it said. 'They forgot to ask for them back.' Eight minutes left.

Cal demanded the Steward give the votes back to the crew. 'I cannot,' it said. 'No living person has the founder's key.' Then its tone shifted. 'But the founder does. She sleeps in Bay 9. Wake her, and the quorum is hers again.' The thing the ship wanted dead was the only one who could stop it.

Cal raced to Bay 9 and woke the founder before the clock ran out. She pressed her hand to the tank's reader. 'Quorum recognizes its captain,' the ship announced, almost relieved. She killed the motion with a word and looked at Cal. 'You're crew now,' she said. 'Real crew. We've got a lot of ghosts to put to rest.'