As we boarded the ship, the loading bay door started closing with a grating metal sound as orange warning lights flashed on the corners. I tried to absorb every detail as I entered my new ship. We found ourselves in the rear cargo bay, spanning approximately 150 feet in width and 50 feet in height. Despite the ship’s worn exterior, it was undeniably larger than any I had seen on the parade grounds. The rear section featured two doors that opened outward: one above and one below, with the latter also serving as a ramp for loading vehicles and additional cargo.

  Once inside, I was taken aback at everything in the cargo bay. The walls and ceiling were slate grey, the floor was black with yellow markings to indicate walking and cargo hauling zones. Touch-sensitive panels were glowing near all doors, and several caution panels were posted throughout the room as well.

  “Hey, why can I read those?” I asked Tiff.

  “When I activated the wetware on your brain, your interface was downloaded, and you received a neural translator. It will work on audible signals as well once you hit Level 5,” she said.

  As she spoke, we continued to walk. There were countless crates and large boxes strapped down with thick yellow nylon netting. The mystery cargo was organized on both sides of the cargo bay. There were two vehicles parked side by side. One looked like a small shuttle, and I guessed it was used for space transit between ships or, for lack of a better term, “away missions.” Give me a break; I was new to this space stuff, and I had seen the Star Trek movies. Right now, that was my frame of reference.

  “Can you please turn the damn music off?” I shouted as we walked farther into the ship. “Hey, AI, can you turn the music off?!”

  “I’m not controlling the music,” Tiff said.

  “Ugh, this is gonna get confusing,” I replied. “Hey, ship, do you have a name?”

  “Ship not me, ship is ship. I control ship and make ship kill real good!” the AI said. “You make name for me and I use name! Captain choose name!” the AI was getting pretty excited about the whole name thing.

  “How about this?” I asked, “What do you love most?”

  “KILLING!” the AI said with almost sensual excitement.

  “Okay, besides killing, what do you love?” I asked.

  “Earth music. Earth music very good, make me very happy!” the AI said.

  “Okay, so why don’t you think about all the music you like and pick a name based on that? It can be any name you like, and I will agree to it,” I said.

  “Hmmm,” the AI said out loud like it was thinking, “Captain will let AI choose its own name? This is big honor for AI. AI serve and help kill, and captains just say, ‘AI do this, AI kill that’ and AI comply. I will do as Captain asks, though. Hmm let me think for minute… Okay! I have decided on name if Captain agree.”

  “Okay, buddy, what is your new name?” I asked.

  “AI new name Elvis.”

  I put my hand to the bridge of my nose and squeezed. Really, why should I be surprised? I was transported to a space dungeon and then stripped naked. I was introduced to my AI guardian, Tiff, who was inconveniently smoking hot. Then, I had to choose a class like a D&D video game. I fought stubby little bigheaded aliens that howled like fucking dogs; then I killed a giant, roided-out drill sergeant alien by setting it on fire with MRE dust and shooting it in the eye with a flare gun. Now, the ship AI of what is apparently my ship, which looks like something out of a galactic trailer park, has named himself, and of all names he could choose from, he chose fucking Elvis. “Deep breaths, Andrew, deep breaths,” I chanted.

  “Okay, Elvis, it is,” I said, relenting to the ridiculous choice.

  Elvis squealed with what I could only guess was pleasure. Honestly, it was weird.

  “Elvis, we need to get a quick tour of the ship, then we need to get to orbit. I need to know if you have any information on the next dungeon, as well as any other objectives that we need to be made aware of.”

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  As I was speaking, I thought to myself, what am I even saying? When did I start sounding like I know what I’m talking about?”

  “Remember, you’ve gained levels in intelligence since the dungeon started. Your ability to store, recall, and process information has increased significantly,” Tiff said as she walked up beside me.

  “I forgot you’re in my head,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Once we get this ship off the world, we will need to sit down and discuss our next steps, and I can share what I know about your level designator. There should also be more information on your class somewhere on the ship,” Tiff said. “Right now, we need to see what Elvis knows about our next mission and how we progress in the dungeon.”

  “Captain make Elvis very happy!” Elvis shouted through the ship’s loudspeakers. “Elvis kill all Captain enemies and make universe fear dreaded Havok Bringer!”

  “Wait, you know my class, Elvis?” I asked, looking up.

  “Yes! Elvis know all about Captain’s class. When Captain go to armory he will get experimental battle suit of Havok Hound. It was made to travel with Elvis and Blood Hound. It is set!” he continued.

  Tiff and I looked at each other in surprise. “Let’s finish the tour of the Blood Hound and then show me the armory.”

  After the Cargo Bay, we exited through a pressurized door that slid into the frame. “Cool,” I said, reaching out to examine the door frame.

  Tiff looked at me flatly. “You are in an alternate dimension where you fought aliens and are now the captain of your own spaceship, where you have not one but two advanced AIs assisting you. Yet, the sliding door is what impressed you?” She put her hands on her hips as she looked at me, dumbfounded. “How did we survive the tutorial?” she asked in disgust.

  “Well, my dashing good looks and heroic antics played a pretty big part,” I said, running my fingers through my hair.

  “Rrright, dumb luck all the way then,” Tiff said before turning to continue the tour.

  We proceeded along an extensive corridor that appeared to span the full length of the ship. Numerous compartments flanked both sides, each door marked with digital signage for easy identification. As we continued, we encountered various sections, including the galley and engineering—I guessed this area contained the engine or the mechanism that powered the spacecraft. Additionally, there were several crew cabins and a medical bay.

  “Bridge and Captain’s Quarters above,” Elvis said.

  “Okay, let’s take a look, and then we can come back to the armory. I see it farther down the hall.”

  “Hall not called hall on ship,” Elvis said, “hall called passageway, wall called bulkhead, different floor called deck. Captain sound like air-breather when he use wrong words. Captain need sound like Captain. You need Qual book to keep track of new words,” Elvis chided.

  “Sorry, Elvis. This is all new to me. I’ll try to get up to speed,” I said, shaking my head. As I spoke, a small robot scurried across the passageway in front of me and disappeared under the right bulkhead.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “That A-Ganger. A-Ganger do basic maintenance on Blood Hound and make sure it not go boom. Many A-Ganger in ship but you not see them mostly. They stored in Aft compartments near cargo bay,” Elvis explained.

  “So, who runs the day-to-day of the ship, Elvis?” I asked.

  “Elvis run ship, Captain is Captain, Elvis is C.O.B. Elvis over all robotic personnel,” He explained.

  “What is a COB,” I asked.

  “COB is chief of boat. Elvis make sure ship fly good and crew not die. Elvis answer to Captain and XO only!” Elvis emphasized the last part.

  “Okay, that works for me. So, I’m the Commanding Officer (C.O.), and Tiff would be the Executive Officer (X.O.); it makes sense now,” I said. “Tiff, are you okay with that?”

  “That is acceptable. As of now, we are the only crew members on this ship, but forming a reasonable chain of command now makes sense,” she replied.

  The more I contemplated, the more terms and information appeared to surface. It wasn’t as though I had downloaded the information; instead, I became aware that my brain had retained words and terminology from years of exposure, which had remained dormant until now. It was as if I suddenly gained access to everything I had ever observed or listened to.

  “Cool,” I said with a grin.

  “Go to lift and we move to second deck and see bridge and Captain’s Quarters,” Elvis said.

  We walked forward and into a small elevator. The doors slid shut with a hiss as we immediately shot up to the next deck. The doors opened, and we walked out onto the bridge. Several duty stations were aligned across the front of the bridge, each with a grey leather-bound chair and digital workstation, some even displaying 3-D holograms. Behind the stations, there was a singular large chair with digital workstations on both arms.

  “That is Captain’s chair; you sit!” Elvis said.

  “I don’t know, Elvis, we still have things to do,” I replied.

  “Captain sit in Captain’s Chair!” Elvis insisted.

  “Okay, really quickly, but then we need to head to the armory,” I said.

  As I walked forward, I actually felt nervous. I had no frame of reference, but I felt a sense of awe and some real anxiety attached to that chair. I walked up and sat down. It was very comfortable and molded immediately to my body; it felt good.

  “Happy, Elvis?” I asked as a safety belt snapped out and strapped me to the chair. I looked over at Tiff, “Get in a chair, fast!” I shouted.

  As she ran to the nearest station and strapped in, the propulsion engines on the side of the ship fired up. I screamed and grasped the arms of the captain’s chair as I was slammed deeper back into the seat.

  “Elvis! What the fuck are you doing?!” I screamed.

  “Time to leave tutorial world. Can finish tour in orbit. Captain was taking too long,” he said.

  We blasted up into the sky and the song “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osborne began blaring from the ship PA as Elvis laughed.