The merchant led them deeper into the market, winding through a maze of precarious scrap heaps and haphazard stalls. Sparks flew from a welding station nearby, and an intense mix of burning metal and oil filled the air.

“Ah, here we are,” the merchant said sweepingly. They stood in a stall piled high with mechanical components, each more dubious than the other. Among the heaps of rusted gears and twisted metal were various stabilisers in various states of disrepair.

Clorita stepped forward, her critical eye scanning the pile. “These are stabilisers?”

“Only the best,” the merchant replied, rubbing his metallic hands together. “Behold, a collection unmatched in all the galaxy!”

Clorita picked up a stabiliser that looked more like an ancient piece of plumbing. “This isn’t even the right model.”

“Ah,” the merchant said, undeterred, “but it has character!”

“Character doesn’t keep a ship from exploding,” Clorita shot back, tossing the part onto the pile. “We need a Mark VII.”

The merchant’s glowing eyes blinked asynchronously as he scratched his chin. “Mark VII, you say? Rare. Very rare. Expensive.”

“How expensive?” Zog asked hesitantly.

The merchant grinned, revealing a jagged row of metallic teeth. “For you, my friends, a bargain at 180,000 credits.”

“180,000?” Zog’s circuits buzzed. “That’s almost all we have!”

Blip sniffed at one of the stabilisers. “It smells broken.”

Clorita folded her arms. “It is broken. Half of these are junk.”

“Junk? Junk?” The merchant’s voice rose indignantly. “These are relics of craftsmanship! This one, for example…” He grabbed a stabiliser from the pile, holding it up like a trophy. “It’s practically vintage!”

“‘Practically vintage’ means it hasn’t worked in decades,” Clorita said flatly.

Zog sighed, stepping forward. “Look, we need a working Mark VII stabiliser. Something reliable. You’ve got to have one.”

The merchant hesitated, gears whirring audibly as he considered. “Perhaps… I do have something in the back. But it will cost you. Mark VIIs don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“They also don’t fall apart in your hands,” Clorita muttered.

“Fine,” Zog said. “Show us what you’ve got.”

The merchant shuffled to the back of the stall, returning with a functional stabiliser. Its surface gleamed faintly under the market lights, and Clorita’s sharp gaze softened as she inspected it.

“It’s real,” she admitted, running her fingers over the connections. “It’ll work.”

Blip sniffed at it cautiously. “It doesn’t smell bad, either.”

“180,000 credits,” the merchant repeated, his grin widening.

“120,000,” Clorita countered, crossing her arms.

“170,000,” the merchant shot back. “I have rustlings to feed.”

“130,000,” Clorita said, her tone firm. “And that’s generous.”

The merchant’s grin faltered, his glowing eyes flickering slightly. “150,000. Final offer.”

Clorita stared him down for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

Zog scratched his head as the transaction was finalised and the stabiliser was loaded onto the hovercart. “This feels too easy. Should we be worried?”

The merchant clapped his hands, his grin returning. “Worried? Not at all! You’ve made an excellent purchase. A stabiliser like this? You’ll be the envy of the scrapyard!”

“Great,” Blip said, wagging his tail. “Can we leave now?”

Clorita nodded. “Let’s get this installed before something else goes wrong.”

As the crew returned to The Indifference, the merchant waved after them, his grin lingering long after they disappeared.

Back at the ship, Clorita inspected the stabiliser more closely as Zog and Blip looked on.

“It’ll work, right?” Zog asked.

“It should,” Clorita replied, though her tone wasn’t as confident as Zog would’ve liked.

Blip sniffed at the part again. “Still doesn’t smell bad.”

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“That’s what worries me,” Clorita muttered.

IND-E’s voice crackled through the ship’s speakers. “Ah, nothing like a suspiciously good deal to add spice to an otherwise mundane repair job. LubriCoffee, anyone?”

Back aboard The Indifference, the crew gathered around the reactor chamber. The newly purchased stabiliser gleamed under the dim lighting, a rare contrast to the patched-together mess of the ship’s interior. Clorita stood at the controls, tools in hand, preparing to install the crucial part.

“Alright,” she said, her tone sharp. “This should stabilise the reactor and keep us from turning into stardust. But I need silence. No distractions.”

“Understood,” Zog said, stepping back and gesturing to Blip to do the same.

Zog stepped in, raising a hand in a futile attempt to calm her down. “Clorita, let’s not fry the ship’s only sarcastic AI. As much as I’d love to not deal with IND-E, we kind of need him to, you know, keep us alive.”

IND-E’s voice crackled again, smug as ever. “Ah, Captain Confidence, ever the diplomat. I’m touched by your feeble attempt to defend me.”

Clorita glared at the speaker, her mechanical hand hovering dangerously close to the controls. “Touch this, IND-E. One more word, and I’m yanking your core out.”

“…Five,” IND-E continued, utterly unbothered. “Oh dear, I appear to be malfunctioning. Perhaps you should try that stabilizer before the count finishes.”

Zog groaned. “Clorita, focus! We’re not blowing up, and you’re not dismantling IND-E. Not today.”

Blip wagged his tail enthusiastically. “Come on, you two. It’s like a team-building exercise! A high-stakes, potentially life-ending exercise, sure, but still—teamwork!”

“Four,” IND-E chimed in. “I must say, this has been quite entertaining.”

Clorita took a deep breath, muttering under her breath, “I hate this AI so much.” Then, she knelt again and jammed the stabilizer into place with a decisive click. The reactor hummed loudly, the fluctuating energy field stabilizing as the lights flickered to a steady glow.

“Three… Oh,” IND-E paused, his voice almost disappointed. “Well, that’s boring. Stabilization complete. No explosions today, I suppose.”

Zog exhaled, his circuits buzzing with relief. “Finally.”

Clorita stood, wiping her hands on her pants, and shot a death glare at the nearest speaker. “You’re lucky, IND-E. But one of these days, your circuits and I are going to have a serious chat.”

“Noted,” IND-E replied, his tone smug as ever. “I look forward to our philosophical discussion about mortality. Shall I begin preparations for LubriCoffee?”

Blip barked another laugh, wagging his tail. “Okay, I’ve officially decided: I love this guy.”

Clorita threw her hands in the air and stormed out. “I’m going to the workshop. If anyone needs me, don’t.”

Zog watched her go, shaking his head. “IND-E, you’ve got to learn to tone it down.”

“Captain,” IND-E replied smoothly, “if I were capable of such restraint, would I truly be me?”

Zog sighed. “Sometimes, I wish you weren’t.”

As the hum of the stabilized reactor filled the air, Blip flopped onto the floor, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, that was fun. What’s next?”

Zog groaned, heading for the bridge. “Whatever it is, let’s hope it doesn’t involve countdowns.”

Without another word, Clorita stormed toward the ship’s control room. Zog and Blip exchanged a panicked glance before rushing after her.

“Clorita, wait!” Zog shouted. “We need IND-E!”

“We don’t need a sarcastic piece of scrap mocking us while trying to save the ship!” Clorita snapped, wrenching open the panel that housed IND-E’s memory board.

Blip wagged his tail nervously. “I mean, he’s kind of funny…”

“Funny?” Clorita growled, pulling a wrench from her belt. “I’ll show you funny.”

She raised the wrench, her grip steady, aiming for the core of IND-E’s memory board. Zog lunged forward, grabbing her wrist just in time.

“Clorita, stop!” Zog pleaded. “We can’t afford to lose IND-E. He’s part of the ship!”

“He’s part of the problem!” Clorita shot back, struggling against Zog’s grip. “If he doesn’t stop this countdown nonsense, I’m smashing him to pieces!”

Blip barked frantically, jumping onto the console. “I’ll bite the wires! That’ll stop him!”

“No biting the wires!” Zog yelled, dragging Clorita back as she wrestled to break free.

Finally, Clorita stopped struggling, her wrench clattering to the floor. She exhaled sharply, glaring at the glowing memory board.

“Fine,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “But if that glorified toaster so much as utters another number, I’m tearing it apart.”

“…Two. Kidding! Installation silence mode reactivated,” IND-E replied, with what could only be described as a death wish thinly disguised as humor.

Clorita groaned, rubbing her temples. “I hate this ship.”

Zog patted her shoulder cautiously. “You’ll feel better after we finish the installation. Come on.”

Reluctantly, Clorita returned to the reactor chamber, where the stabiliser lay waiting. This time, she worked in silence, her movements precise and efficient. Zog and Blip stood nearby, watching with bated breath.

Finally, Clorita secured the last connection. The reactor hummed to life, its vibrations smoothing out as the stabiliser took effect.

“Done,” Clorita announced, stepping back and dusting off her hands. “We’re stable.”

“Stable?” IND-E muttered softly, just outside of Clorita’s hearing range. “How utterly anticlimactic. I was holding out hope for at least a minor implosion.”

Blip barked, his tail wagging. “I love this guy.”

Clorita rolled her eyes, muttering as she gathered her tools.

The crew slumped into their chairs in the cockpit, the tension finally easing. The reactor hummed gently, a welcome change from the earlier chaos.

Zog exhaled deeply. “Alright, the stabiliser’s working. We’re back in business.”

Blip wagged his tail. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Clorita shot him a glare. “Not so bad? I almost killed IND-E.”

“You’re welcome to try again. I’ll even count you down. LubriCoffee, anyone?, “IDN-E responded.

Zog groaned, leaning back in his chair. “I hate this ship.”

Blip wagged his tail again. “I love this ship.”

As the Indifference sailed on through the stars, the gentle hum of the stabiliser seemed to mock the chaos they had just survived.