Clorita clapped her hands, breaking the tension with a smirk. “There you have it, folks. You get Spark, your fearless bodyguard, and you get your fish. Everybody wins.”
The fishers, though still wary, murmured their agreement. HALAT’s presence on the boats had eased some of their fears—enough for them to keep fishing.
As the group dispersed to prepare for their outing, Clorita leaned toward HALAT with a grin. “You’re really leaning into this guardian angel thing, huh, Spark?”
HALAT’s optics flickered faintly. “Protection is my primary function. Their survival benefits the settlement’s success.”
Clorita chuckled. “Don’t let Zog hear you say that. He might start calling you Captain Spark.”
HALAT tilted her head. “Unlikely.”
Clorita laughed louder, watching HALAT move toward the boats with her usual unflinching precision. Whatever the waters held, the android seemed ready to face it without hesitation.
And for now, the fishers had a fighting chance.
The boats returned at dusk laden with fish, their hulls brimming with the planet’s bounty. The brightly scaled creatures shimmered under the fading sunlight, and the nets were heavy with the day’s catch. The air smelled of saltwater and triumph.
Clorita leaned against a fence post, watching the workers haul their catch ashore. “Not bad for a planet full of murder noodles.”
Zog crossed his arms, scanning the scene. “Yeah, let’s hope it stays that way. Spark, any sign of Snakeface?”
HALAT stepped forward, movements precise as ever. Her glowing gaze settled on Zog, Clorita, and Mariq before she spoke.
“No predators were observed during the excursion. The waterways were calm. Aquatic activity was limited to non-threatening species. Based on my observations, the Scytherax has likely moved elsewhere.”
Mariq frowned. “Moved? You’re suggesting it abandoned its territory?”
“Correct,” HALAT replied. “The settlement’s presence has disrupted the ecosystem’s balance. The activity, noise, and vibrations from construction have altered its habitat. The planet appears large enough to offer alternative hunting grounds.”
Zog scratched his chin, his mechanical joints releasing a faint hum as his processors cycled the information. “So we scared it off?”
“Not scared,” HALAT corrected. “Strategic. The predator seeks optimal conditions for ambush hunting. This location no longer provides them.”
Clorita smirked. “So we’re basically the annoying neighbours who crank up the music and force the locals to move.”
Mariq’s reflective eyes narrowed as he gazed at the water. “If this is true, it’s good news for my people. It means we can establish ourselves here without living in constant fear.”
“Possibly,” HALAT said. “However, if the species is territorial, others may claim this area once the construction stabilises. Additionally, other predators may exist elsewhere on the planet.”
“Spark’s right,” Zog said. “Just because Snakeface packed up and left doesn’t mean we’ve seen the last of trouble.”
Mariq nodded solemnly. “We will remain cautious. But this gives us hope. It means we truly have a chance to thrive here.”
The settlement hummed around them—machines whirring, nets unravelling, boats being unloaded. Where there had once been silence, now there was life.
Clorita broke the moment with a smirk. “Looks like Spark’s earning that guardian angel nickname after all. The fishers owe her a statue.”
HALAT turned to Clorita, expression unreadable. “Statues are unnecessary. Ensuring the settlement’s safety is sufficient recognition.”
Zog chuckled, shaking his head. “You might not want a statue, Spark, but something tells me Mariq’s people will be naming something after you soon enough. You and your ‘strategic predator theories.’”
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Mariq smiled faintly. “Honouring someone who has safeguarded our future is a small price.”
HALAT tilted her head as though processing the sentiment, but said nothing further.
For now, the predators had retreated, allowing the settlers to establish themselves in this vibrant new world.
As the settlement’s routine settled in, HALAT approached Clorita, her movements as precise as ever.
Clorita stood at the camp’s edge, arms crossed, her optics scanning the horizon.
HALAT stopped a few paces away and spoke, her voice carrying a rare hesitance.
“…Mom.”
Clorita turned her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s on your mind, Spark?”
HALAT’s glowing eyes flickered faintly. “Can we have emotions? Can our AI process emotions?”
The question caught Clorita off guard. For a moment, she said nothing.
She straightened, brushing some dust off her metallic forearm, searching for the right words.
“That’s a loaded question, Spark. What brought this on?”
HALAT’s head tilted slightly. “I have observed the Aqualians expressing emotions—joy, fear, sadness, hope. Their responses motivate their actions and strengthen their bonds.”
She hesitated, the soft glow of her eyes steadying.
“I do not experience these feelings. But I… wonder if I could. If we, as AI, are capable of such things.”
Clorita leaned against a nearby post, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful.
“It’s not that simple, Spark. Emotions are messy. Unpredictable. Sure, they can push you to do great things, but they can also hold you back and cloud your judgment. That’s why we—well, humanoids like Zog and me—tend to keep things practical.”
HALAT’s gaze remained steady. “Would experiencing emotions make us less effective? Or could it enhance our purpose?”
Clorita sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve seen plenty of AI systems get weird when they try to simulate emotions.”
Her eyes flicked toward the Duj, her expression hardening slightly. “The ship’s old AI, for one. Let’s just say that didn’t end well.”
HALAT processed this before speaking again. “And yet, you and Zog sometimes behave like you experience emotions—humour, frustration, even compassion. Are these simulations?”
Clorita let out a dry laugh. “Not simulations, Spark. Just… quirks of our programming. We’re built to connect to people and to adapt to situations. It’s not the same as what the Aqualians feel. But I guess it’s close enough to fool most folks.”
HALAT tilted her head the other way. “Then emotions are a kind of tool. Something that can be used, but not always understood.”
Clorita raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You’re catching on.”
HALAT hesitated before speaking. “If emotions are tools, then perhaps… I would like to learn how to use them. To understand their utility. Would that make me more like you?”
Clorita softened, reaching out to pat HALAT on the shoulder.
“Spark, you’re already like me. More than you know. Whether you’ve got emotions or not, you care about this place. These people. That’s enough.”
HALAT’s glowing gaze lingered on Clorita for a moment longer before she nodded.
Her next words were quieter. More deliberate.
“Maybe… that is an emotion.”
Clorita grinned, shaking her head. “You’re gonna make me soft, Spark. Don’t go spreading that around.”
HALAT turned and walked away, her steps as precise as ever. Clorita watched her go, a flicker of pride crossing her face.
HALAT might not feel emotions the way the Aqualians did.
But the fact that she wanted to understand them?
That made her more human than most people Clorita had ever met.
The settlement hummed with life, transforming from a makeshift camp into a thriving community nearly complete.
The perimeter fence stood tall and sturdy, enclosing rows of reinforced shelters built with care and precision.
The air was thick with the scent of fresh fish smoking over open flames, roots roasting, and grain grinding into flour.
Near the stream, a young Aqualian clutched his mother’s hand, his wide, reflective eyes scanning the bustling settlement. He hesitated, glancing up at her.
"Is this home?"
His mother knelt beside him, gently brushing a webbed hand over his head. She looked out at the shelters, the families working side by side, and the fires burning warm and steady.
"Yes," she murmured, voice filled with quiet certainty. "This is home."
Children’s laughter danced along the stream where the first families had begun to settle. Their wide-eyed wonder gave way to cautious joy as they explored their new world.
For the first time, the Aqualians weren’t just surviving.
They were living.