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“Almost,” I said.

“And to sliming us!” Monica said. “That damn goop. I’m sure it’s still in my butt crack.”

“To no more haunted ships.” Cass tapped her glass against mine, then looked at me with a soft expression. “Although we do have a date with the ship’s ghosts.”

“Are you ready?” I glanced at her wrapped ribs.

“They need to move on before our girl can fly. Shall we go say goodbye?” She pushed off the chair and held her hand out to me.

“Say goodbye from us,” Monica called out. “Tell them I won’t miss the ship’s spunk.”

Cass ran her fingers along the wall as we walked to the room. It opened as we reached it, suggesting it had been waiting for us to close this sad loop. Inside, the alcoves were active, their platforms glowing a soft, steady gold. The floor channels pulsed in sequence.

The eleven ghosts were there. They stood in the center of the room, translucent, but calmer than I’d ever seen them.

Cass stepped forward and touched the central platform. The resin accepted her immediately, softening and lacing through her fingers.

The bond between us flared, and through it I tasted her certainty. I put my hands beside hers, and the resin took me too.

The Chorus opened a clean signal, a living ship finally breathing all the way down. The neural matrix lit beneath us, every channel connected, and the ghosts locked into place for the first time since the ritual stalled during the fire and panic. All caused by my uncle hiding family shame. He killed the entire crew to save face and then covered it up with a lie. Fucking coward.

Cass’s hand found mine inside the resin. Her fingers were warm, and her pulse was steady. The ship read our connection and sighed. She felt so content.

“It’s time,” Cass said to the ghosts. “You’ve been stuck here long enough, but the Hollow Chorus can now finish what she started.”

The tall engineer stepped forward. Her form solidified, and for one breath she looked real. She reached for the nearest alcove, her hand sank into the platform, and the light surged. The signature transferred, flowing out of the ship’s healed matrix and into the Kelvane ancestral archive.

One by one, they followed. Years of unfinished grief and fear finally settled.

I pulled Cass against me. The resin released us, and she leaned into my chest, her forehead against my collarbone.

A thud came from the far corner of the room, and we turned. A shape sat on the edge of the last alcove, legs dangling, semi-translucent.

“Did one of the alien ghosts not settle?” Cass asked. “I felt them all fade.”

I checked the data. “They all went.”

She tilted her head. “Did the Chorus pick up a stray?”

“A hitchhiker ghost?”

Before we figured it out, the shape vanished.

“Huh. Maybe it was a residual image?” Cass shrugged. “I’m no ghost expert. Don’t want to be. How’s our girl looking now the trapped pathways are cleared?”

“She’s good. Hollow Chorus has excellent taste in who she bonds with.” I pulled her close again, and her body fit against mine the way the ship fit around us. Designed for it. Built for exactly this.

Cass looked up. Her eyes were bright, and the light from the walls turned her skin warm gold. “We did it. We unhaunted your beautiful ship.”

“You did it. I held on for the ride and fell so damn hard I couldn’t have stopped myself even if I’d wanted to. I would have done anything to keep you.”

“Even letting me go. And that was all I needed to hear to fall for you, too, and accept this freaky forever bond.” She closed the last inch between us, and her mouth found mine.

The Chorus dimmed the lights. The floor warmed under our feet, and the veins in the ceiling softened to a low glow.

Cass pulled back just enough to speak against my mouth. “Shall we give the ship a show?”

“You’re still recovering.”