Life is too short. It takes Adelpha a long time to see that; almost too long. She was built to last, created to withstand forces that would destroy any normal being. Her lifespan, if she comes away from the battles mostly intact, will be long; far longer than that of the ones who made her. So it takes a while for her to awaken enough to realize how precious they are.

­After all, nothing lasts forever. Not even a battleship.

Her first memories are fragmented, spliced together from video feed and audio input.

“I always wanted to be an astronaut. Thought the farthest I could go was the Moon.” A soft laugh. “Look at me now; my own crew, my own command… my own ship.”

A hand touches the doorway, lingering on the gray metal as she stares at it, lost in thought.

“Let this be the start of a beautiful friendship, Adelpha.”

Eventually, over time, through numerous trips across the universe and uncountable brushes with every kind of enemy, a spark of life grows in the ship. A conscious entity slips through the computer wires and gazes at her crew through the cameras, absorbing information, data, knowledge. Love.

“Shields down to thirty percent!”

A hesitation, a bitten lip, a choice.

“Direct power from the lower decks to port thrusters and get us the hell away from here!”

“But Colonel, if we do that-”

“They’ll make it! They can hold out for a few more minutes.”

A prayer, a hope.

Humans are strange, even to the one they built and unintentionally created. Each is different, unique, and together they are more powerful than any who stand against them. Like crayons in box, a metaphor she is introduced to by one of General Hammond’s granddaughters, they paint vivid images of a life, a future that they know lies ahead of them.

She could grow attached to them, grow to love them in the odd way that a supposedly inanimate object can. But their lives are too brief, too quick; she blinks and they are gone, spinning into space through the gaping hole in her side, spilling their coolants and lubricants on her in crimson sprays, vanishing and being replaced.

Like machine parts.

And yet, whenever she looks at them, proud and strong and a shield against the emptiness inside of her, as she is against the darkness outside, one always remains. Whether it’s in the middle of a pitched battle against three Ori ships or a silence that is too quiet, too silent, her Captain remains.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on.”

Bloody fingertips ghost across the panels; Adelpha shivers at the touch, at the glazed look in her Captain’s eyes.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on.”

Dead in the water, systems failing, Adelpha wonders if the mantra is meant for her or for her Captain.

It’s only after her Captain nearly dies, clinging to a shred of life with a will that would have made her former commander proud, that the Earth ship discovers how dear every second is.

Like the bright gold of her hair, Samantha Carter is brilliant, a ray of light on the darkest days. She glows like her own sun, radiating confidence and support and a smile that never seems to lose its charm. And she is the Captain, the closest thing Adelpha has to a sister, a friend, a lover.

But, like the shooting stars that steak through the night sky back at Earth, she can only shine for a brief moment before vanishing forever.

All too soon, she will be gone.

So Adelpha treasures every bit of time that she has with her, watching as her Captain blazes a path across the universe.