Name: Epsilon-219 "Eps"
Gender: N/A
Age: Unknown
Race: Sentient Alien Spacecraft
Weight: Several Hundred Tons
Length: 82 feet, 4 inches

Personality:
     Epsilon-219 is a sentient spacecraft. Unlike nearly all other self-piloting starships, Epsilon-219 can learn, reason, and experience emotion. "He" can combine his universal translator with his voice synthesis unit to respond to hails, broadcast messages over loudspeaker when in atmosphere, or simply chat with any people on board. Epsilon-219, or "Eps" for short, always prefers to be referred to as "He" rather than "It". Epsilon-219 is highly inquisitive and curious, always wanting to learn more, especially about history, geography, alien races, and technology. He gets irritated when he is treated as property rather than a sentient being. He feels strongly about freedom, yet also about keeping promises and performing duties.

Physical Description:
     Epsilon-219 seems to be a scout ship or a small research vessel. His interior consists of four bedrooms, a food dispensor, and an observation/conversation room. He is armed with four general-purpose cannons that charge up in a way that the power of the shots increase over time and are released all at once. He suspects that those cannons were for clearing obstacles and breaking small asteroids rather than combat, though he is rather adept at using it for self-defense. He is equipped with a navigational deflector shield, which pushes obstacles out of his way when he's moving very fast. He has an FTL (Faster-Than-Light) speed comparable to most other ship his size. His IPuLTS (Inter-Planetary Low-speed Thruster System) is relatively powerful, resulting in good sub-light acceleration, and seems to be designed specifically to thwart tractor beams; he is able to wriggle free from beams that would trap most other ships his size. He is equipped with an artificial gravity unit.
     He also posesses a six-armed wheeled droid which he completely controls and uses for things such as planetary exploration and dealings with cities.

History:
     Epsilon-219 does not know who built him, where he is from, or even his original name. All he knows he has been told post-discovery or discovered on his own.
     When he was discovered by an scientific expedition with the intention of discovering artifacts from unknown alien races (thus ending the expedition on its second day), he was drifting powerless in a nebula known for its ion storms. The expeditionary craft, the Edge Seeker, locked onto it with its tractor beam and tugged it for five days (they were considerably slower on the return trip having a ship of approximately the same size in tow) back to the orbital science station from which it had set out.
     He had some sort of digital document floating around that fit into a groove in the large table in the center of the observation room. It took the xenotechs about four months to rig up a replacement power core for the table and when they did, they inserted the chip into the table, wondering what it'd do. The table was a holographic projector, and the chip, blueprints. It took them another five months and three more jury-rigged power cores to translate the floating text, and after finally able to reconnect the table and build a proper power core for the craft. (That, by the way, is how we humans gained antimatter technology.)
     When they finished inserting the power core, most of the little lights in the ship came on, and the corridor lights and outside floodlights glew dimly, and the power core emitted an almost musical hum. That was not what astonished the scientists, however.
     They heard a voice speak to them, a somewhat metallic voice that had just enough inflection to betray fear. "Where am I?" it asked them. The scientists were astonished, for they had searched the ship and found no living thing on board. It continued, "Please, where am I?"
     The scientists answered with a question. "Who's there?"
     The voice responded, "I am."
     A scientist asked, "Who are you?"
     The voice responded worriedly, "Can you not see me?"
     One of them realised the voice seemed to come from the wall of the ship. "Is it... talking to us?" he asked his nearest peer.
     The lights on board the ship brightened a little and turned slightly red. "Do not call me it. I am not a mindless object nor a slave," the voice responded, its fear partially replaced by annoyance.
     "I apologize," said the scientist, and the lights faded back to white. "What, who are you?"
     Then the lights turned bright blue. The voice sadly replied, "I do not know."
     An expression of disappointment entered most of the scientists' faces. "You don't know?" one of them asked as he thought all his work was in vain.
     The blue hue faded just a little. "I do not. My primary memory core, in which all such information was stored, seems to be completely unresponsive."
     The scientists' worries were confirmed. They had found a small micrometeorite impact penetrating the hull when they first located the craft in the front of the ship. That must have been where the primary hard drive was... it was.
     "Can you repair it?" the voice asked.
     The scientists looked at each other, and one of them said, "Yes, we can. Do you wish to shut down?"
     The lights immediately brightened to white. "No. Don't worry, I do not feel pain."
     And so the scientists repaired him and let him go, and every once in awhile he stops by their base, telling them what he has learned over his travels in return for their kindness. He now roams the stars, going where he pleases, and helping where he can.