chaos
Moderati freezes.
The ancient file expands across the command dais. Grainy by their standards. Primitive compression. Primitive rendering. Ancient Terran language package auto-loads.
A cart rattles through a snowy forest.
For several seconds, nobody aboard the Titan says anything.
Then a human voice comes through the recovered audio:
“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”
The Princeps slowly narrows her eyes.
“Moderati.”
“Yes, Princeps?”
“Why did it address me?”