The Duj hummed steadily as it cruised through the vast emptiness toward the Cygnara Cluster. On the bridge, Zog lounged in the captain’s chair, one boot propped on the console and a smug grin plastered across his face. The holographic display in front of him played a remarkably low-energy episode of Planet’s Dullest Accidents, featuring a slow-motion sequence of a Martian supply crate tipping over.
“Oh, no,” Zog muttered, barely containing a chuckle. “The crate. It’s… falling. Truly riveting.”
Luma, perched on a nearby console, gave him a disapproving chirp before curling into a ball, tail swishing with disdain.
Meanwhile, deep in the belly of the Duj, Clorita and HALAT stood shoulder to shoulder in the expansive workshop. The air was filled with the hum of tools and the glow of welding torches as they worked through the schematics downloaded from the Repository.
Clorita adjusted her welding goggles, her tone sharp but focused. “Alright, Spark, if we reinforce the hull plating here and integrate this adaptive shielding tech, we can absorb impacts from most projectiles. Even those nasty grav-shards we’ve seen.”
HALAT nodded, her movements precise as she scanned the schematics. “Agreed. This configuration will mitigate stress along the Duj’s structural frame during high-speed manoeuvres.”
Clorita smirked, sliding a freshly welded panel onto the table. “So, basically, we’ll be harder to kill. I like it.”
Back on the bridge, Zog leaned forward as the next accident played out. A slow-moving lunar rover bumped into a pile of alien fruit, sending them tumbling over the edge of a cliff.
“Classic,” Zog said, biting back a laugh. “You just can’t script this kind of quality.”
STELA’s warm, velvety voice interrupted his moment of bliss. “Captain Zog, may I inquire about the nature of your current activity?”
Zog jolted upright, scrambling to close the holographic screen. “Uh, it’s research! You know, learning from… planetary missteps.”
STELA’s glowing interface pulsed faintly as though considering his excuse. “Of course, Captain. Perhaps I could curate a selection of historical navigation errors for your review. They may prove more relevant.”
“No need!” Zog said quickly, waving his hand. “I’m, uh, good for now. Thanks.”
In the workshop, Clorita wiped her brow, the glowing lines of the schematics flickering as she adjusted the configuration. “Okay, we’ve got the first set of upgrades ready to install. Reinforced hull plating and those sweet, adaptive shield emitters.”
HALAT set down a plasma cutter, her voice calm. “I will begin fabricating the emitter mounts. The shield integration should enhance overall system efficiency by 32%.”
“Music to my ears, Spark,” Clorita said, grinning. She tapped a glowing interface on her wristband, initiating the fabrication process. “With these upgrades, the Duj might actually survive our luck.”
HALAT tilted her head, her optics glowing faintly. “Perhaps this will also reduce Captain Zog’s propensity for melodrama.”
Clorita chuckled. “Wishful thinking. He’ll always find something to groan about.”
The Duj glided steadily through the void, its new navigation system, STELA, humming efficiently. The crew was gathered on the bridge, the star maps from the Repository sprawled across the holographic console. Bright routes and pinpoints of interest flickered before them, each representing a mystery, a danger, or an opportunity.
Clorita leaned forward, her fingers dancing across the display. “Alright, Captain Indecisive, we’ve got dozens of places to explore. Where do we start?”
Zog frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Preferably somewhere quiet. I’m not in the mood for more running from killer bots or playing tug-of-war with black holes.”
STELA’s smooth voice interjected. “Captain Zog, might I suggest a destination that balances risk and reward? Nexora, a planet within the Cygnara Cluster, holds significant historical intrigue.”
HALAT tilted her head. “Explain.”
The display shifted, zooming in on a single star system marked with faint energy signatures.
“According to the Repository’s records, Nexora is home to the Xerats, a species known for their territorial nature and fierce devotion to a mythical energy source. Legends suggest they guard a collection of ‘Eternal Scrolls,’ believed to contain the formula for a perpetual energy system.”
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Clorita perked up. “Eternal energy? As in, we’d never have to refuel the Duj again?”
“Precisely,” STELA replied. “However, records also indicate that no visitors have successfully retrieved or even confirmed the existence of these scrolls.”
Zog groaned, rubbing his temples. “So it’s a suicide mission.”
STELA’s tone remained calm, but there was an undeniable gravity to the words that followed. “The Xerats have remained isolated for centuries. Their warriors are bred from birth for combat, their laws demand loyalty above all else, and their hostility toward outsiders is… well-documented. No diplomatic attempts have succeeded.”
HALAT’s glowing optics flickered. “It is a calculated risk. Should the scrolls exist, the benefit would far outweigh the danger.”
Clorita crossed her arms, grinning. “Come on, Captain. Think about it—no more running out of fuel halfway to nowhere. No more sketchy refuelling deals. No more asteroid dives just to squeeze out another light-year.”
Zog sighed, his circuits buzzing faintly. “Or, hear me out—maybe the scrolls are just a really good bedtime story, and we don’t get ripped to shreds by alien warriors.”
Clorita smirked. “Only one way to find out.”
Luma, perched on the captain’s chair, let out a slow, judgmental blink.
STELA’s voice chimed in again, calm as ever. “Shall I plot a course, Captain?”
Zog stared at the console, Clorita, and HALAT, who, as usual, looked utterly unbothered by the prospect of impending doom.
“…Yeah, yeah. Plot the course.”
The Duj’s engines flared, the ship veering toward the Nexora system.
The hunt for the Eternal Scrolls had begun.
“OR,” ZOG COUNTERED, “NO MORE US IF WE MESS THIS UP.”
STELA’S TONE SOFTENED SLIGHTLY. “CAPTAIN, THE ROUTE TO NEXORA IS WELL WITHIN THE DUJ’S CAPABILITIES. I CAN GUIDE YOU SAFELY TO ORBIT. THE DECISION, AS ALWAYS, IS YOURS.”
ZOG STARED AT THE GLOWING MAP, THE NAME “NEXORA” PULSING SOFTLY IN THE CENTRE. HIS CIRCUITS BUZZED FAINTLY AS HE WEIGHED THE OPTIONS. ETERNAL ENERGY WAS A GAME-CHANGER—IF IT WAS REAL.
“ALRIGHT,” HE SAID FINALLY. “SET COURSE FOR NEXORA. BUT IF THIS TURNS INTO ANOTHER BLACK HOLE SITUATION, I’M BLAMING ALL OF YOU.”
CLORITA SMIRKED. “NOTED, CAPTAIN CALIMERO. LET’S SEE IF THE MYTHS ARE TRUE.”
The Duj hovered over the rugged terrain of Nexora, its glowing thrusters illuminating the jagged peaks surrounding Eryxion. From their vantage point on a ridge, the crew could see the labyrinthine streets below, dotted with glowing lanterns and patrolled by dark, insect-like forms.
STELA’s velvety voice broke the tense silence. “Captain Zog, I must caution you: the energy signatures in Eryxion suggest formidable defensive capabilities. My recommendation is—”
“We know, STELA,” Zog interrupted, squinting at the glowing town below. “Don’t get caught, don’t get killed. Got it.”
Clorita snorted, adjusting the strap of her neutron shotgun. “Come on, Captain Cowboy. Think of it as a little cardio.”
HALAT stepped forward, her movements precise and calculated. “I suggest a divided approach. Distraction tactics will maximise our chances of success. I will infiltrate the Sanctum.”
Zog frowned. “And leave us to deal with those bug-faced maniacs? Great plan, Spark.”
Clorita patted his shoulder, her grin sharp. “Relax, Captain. HALAT’s got this. We’ll just keep the locals busy.”
“Busy getting us killed,” Zog muttered under his breath, following her toward the shuttle.
The Duj’s shuttle touched down in a shadowy corner of the town, its engines humming softly as the crew disembarked. The air was thick with static electricity, and the narrow alleys seemed to close in around them. The architecture was jagged and uneven as if the city had grown in defiance of logic.
Clorita peered around a corner, her shotgun ready. “Alright, Captain Slow. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
Before Zog could retort, the distant sound of metal scraping against stone sent a chill through the air. From the far end of the plaza, a group of Xerats emerged, their elongated frames moving in perfect, unnervingly silent coordination. Their insectoid forms reflected the dim lantern light, their sharp, angular limbs cutting eerie silhouettes against the walls.
Zog suppressed a shudder. “That’s not normal. Why aren’t they making any noise?”
“They don’t have to,” HALAT said quietly, her optics narrowing as she studied their patrol pattern. “They are networked. Communicating through silent transmissions. If one detects us, they all will.”
The crew froze in the shadows, watching as the Xerats paused. Their glowing optics scanned the area in slow, methodical sweeps—no clicks, no hissing, no unnecessary movement—just an oppressive, mechanical stillness.
HALAT turned to Clorita and Zog, her voice as steady as ever. “I will infiltrate the Sanctum alone. The Xerats prioritise external threats before securing their stronghold. If I go in first, I will have the best chance of bypassing their security undetected.”
Zog frowned. “And leave us to deal with those bug-faced maniacs? Great plan, Spark.”
Clorita patted his shoulder, her grin sharp. “Relax, Captain. HALAT’s got this. We’ll just keep the locals busy.”
HALAT’s gaze lingered on them for a moment before she turned toward the shadows. “Stay unpredictable. If they adjust their formation, use misdirection. You only need to buy me five minutes.”
Zog grumbled, rubbing his temples. “I hate everything about this.”
Clorita flashed a grin. “That’s the spirit.”
With a final nod, HALAT moved silently, fluidly, ghost-like, disappearing into the darkness as she had always belonged there.
The moment she vanished, the Xerats in the plaza shifted in eerie unison, their heads tilting slightly—as if sensing a change in the air. Then, as if responding to an unseen command, they resumed their patrol.
Clorita let out a slow breath. “Alright, Captain Hardrock. Let’s make some noise.”
The two darted through the winding streets, knocking over market stalls and scattering piles of glowing crystal trinkets. The sudden movement was all it took.
The Xerats stopped. Turned.
“Trespassers detected. Eliminate on sight”
Their glowing eyes flared red.
Then they moved—fast.
Zog barely had time to curse before Clorita grabbed his arm, pulling him into a side alley. “Move it, Captain Slow!”