The Spirit Remains

Alexei Bachiko gave the truss of his beloved ship an affectionate pat. The UNSS Skyward Spirit did not belong to him, of course; it was the property of the world government. That is what the UNSS meant: United Nations Star Ship. But he had been the engineer on her maiden voyage to Proxima Centauri, and the two other flights since. No other human had ever spent so much time in deep space. No other human had ever been to three alien star systems. He knew the Spirit better than even those who had designed and built her, all those many years ago, and as she sat in dock over Earth for refitting, he reflected on the lifetime he had spent within her hull.
“My proshli cherez mnogoye, moy staryy drug,” he mumbled quietly, gazing down the length of the vessel toward the slowly-shifting blue-green vista below. Well-accustomed to weightlessness, Alexei lightly tapped the attitude jets of his suit to adjust his angle and rested a foot on the space-dock scaffold. He watched the Hephaestus Spaceworks crew with something approaching familial protectiveness as they slowly, carefully constructed the first of the Spirit’s planned twin warp drive rings around the reactor module. The drive had been thoroughly tested by himself personally, but it was still the most complicated piece of technology ever devised by humankind and utilized power on a scale no one had ever dreamed of before. He was wary, and rightfully so, of the machine’s ability to bend spacetime around it. But the Spirit could take the strain. He was sure of it.
The aging cosmonaut’s long moment of introspection was eventually interrupted by the project foreman tapping on his shoulder. Slightly startled, Alexei turned and grabbed the truss for stability. The foreman gave the Spacer Sign gestures for “are you alright?” and tapped the side of their helmet to indicate the suit radio.
Alexei sighed and turned the radio back to the worksite channel. “Yes, I am fine. I had my radio tuned to the emergency-only frequency. I wished for a moment of quiet solitude with my ship.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting, Mr. Bachiko,” the foreman said. “I just came to let you know the Earth-bound shuttle will be embarking in half an hour.”
“Thank you, Mx. Chen.” He paused for several seconds. “I do not think I will be leaving, after all.”
“I… that’s unexpected, I must say,” Chen remarked. “I thought after all this time you would be eager to see Russia again. You know, to go home.”
“I thought so as well,” said Alexei. “But I simply… cannot. Russia is not my home anymore. Neither is Earth. This ship is the only home I have known for nearly forty years.”
“Really?” The foreman sounded mildly incredulous. “This old thing? But you grew up on Earth, right?”
The cosmonaut laughed. “Mx. Chen, Aurora One was not my first mission.”
“Of course not. You were on Aeneid One before this.”
“And Arete before that. Have you any idea the toll that relativistic travel combined with long stasis takes on a man?”
“I… don't, no.”
“I was born in 2148,” Alexei deadpanned.
“You… what?”
“Oh, yes. I should be one hundred and seven. But my biological clock rests at seventy, and a healthy seventy at that.”
“You…” Chen floundered for words. “You've missed thirty-seven years of your life?”
“I have,” Alexei sighed. “Much more, in fact. Three deep space missions, each twenty-four years or more. I came back from my first voyage to a sentient machine directing the docking process. On my second voyage, I departed from the United Nations Common Territory of Mars, and returned to the People's Republic of Mars. I was asleep on this ship, racing homeward, when the first warp flight was made three years ago. I was not on Earth for my first commander’s funeral. Even my second crew are retired now, and I doubt the others who were with me on Aurora One will venture to the stars again. But my calling is out here. Out there. With my oldest friend.” He ran his hand along a support beam with surprising affection.
“Even so… it’s not the same ship,” pressed Chen. “This vessel has been taken apart and put back together so much that it couldn't possibly be considered the same ship anymore. This is the third refit. We’re putting a faster-than-light drive on it, which means a complete overhaul of the power systems and replacement of the main truss. Not to mention the routine replacement of the habitat insulation, rotating actuators, and debris shielding. The amount of parts replaced could build a second, maybe even a third copy of the Skyward.” The foreman shook their head. “I'm sorry, I just don't really understand why you're so attached.”
Alexei smiled. “I do not think you could, but I feel it is not so different from the way our bodies replace cells over time. She is still the same to me, whether a hundred years or a thousand years from the first time I saw her. The pieces may change, yes, but the Spirit remains.”