You will be my blade.
The words echo in his mind sometimes, a soft-voiced memory, the imprint of a small hand against his hull.
Mihzat doesn’t remember it, but Veset does. Veset, blade, and he looks through log files that predate his integration, digs through memories that are his for all they aren’t.
That quiet voice, You will be my blade.
Is that what you want to call it, my queen? More familiar. Kasuru, the designer of the spaceship, who’d been at Mihzat’s integration when he became Veset.