The Duj’s shuttle bay doors hissed open, the returning shuttle settling into place with a low hum as its engines powered down. HALAT stepped out, moving with her usual precision. Luma perched comfortably in her arms. The feline purred softly as if this had all been nothing more than an ordinary outing.

Zog stood at the edge of the bay, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a mix of relief and exasperation. As soon as his gaze landed on Luma, his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and his cooling vents cycled briefly before returning to standby mode.

“Well, Spark,” he muttered, “you pulled it off. Good work.”

Luma leapt gracefully from HALAT’s arms, landing effortlessly before striding past Zog without so much as a glance. She stopped just long enough to bat at a loose cable near the wall, tail flicking lazily, then sauntered off toward the bridge.

Zog watched her go, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. She gets kidnapped—or stows away, or whatever that was—and returns like nothing happened. Not even a thank-you.”

HALAT straightened, her voice even. “Luma is unharmed and appears unaffected by the incident. That is the desired outcome.”

Before Zog could reply, Clorita stepped forward, arms folded, her expression sharp. “Spark, we need to talk.”

HALAT tilted her head slightly, glowing optics flickering. “Is there an issue, Mom?”

Clorita jabbed a finger in her direction. “Yeah, there’s an issue. You don’t just run off like that! What if something had gone wrong? What if the shuttle didn’t make it back? Or you run into something worse than a ship full of fuzzy goodwill ambassadors?”

HALAT blinked once. “Luma was in distress. Retrieving her was the logical course of action.”

Clorita groaned, throwing up her hands. “It’s not about logic, Spark! It’s about teamwork. You don’t go charging off without telling anyone! We could’ve helped. Or—you know—stopped you from taking one of our only shuttles into the void on a whim.”

HALAT seemed to process this, her head tilting further. “The mission was successful. Luma is safe.”

“That’s not the point!” Clorita snapped, though her tone softened slightly. “We can’t afford to lose you, Spark. And we definitely can’t have you risking yourself alone.”

Zog, who had been watching with an amused smirk, finally chimed in. “She’s got a point. Next time, Spark, maybe wait until we’re on the same page before blasting off into the unknown.”

A beat passed. HALAT stood perfectly still, processing. Then, she nodded. “Understood. I will consult with the team before making future decisions of this nature.”

Clorita raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “You promise?”

“Affirmative,” HALAT said, her tone unwavering.

Clorita exhaled, the tension finally easing from her stance. “Good. Because next time you pull that stunt, you’ll have more than just me yelling at you.”

Zog’s smirk returned. “Yeah, RG will probably throw a fit over whatever food experiment you interrupt.”

The tension broke as Clorita let out a reluctant laugh. “At least Luma’s back. Acting like she didn’t just hijack our whole day.”

As if on cue, Luma reappeared, leaping onto a nearby console and stretching languidly before curling up into a ball. Her tail flicked lazily as soft, rhythmic purring filled the room.

Zog rolled his eyes. “Typical.”

HALAT turned to Zog and Clorita, her expression unreadable. “The matter is resolved. Shall we resume operations?”

Zog glanced at Luma, who now seemed thoroughly unimpressed with the fuss she’d caused, then shook his head. “Yeah, let’s get back to whatever madness comes next. I’m sure it’ll be here soon enough.”

Clorita smirked. “That’s the spirit, Captain.”

As the trio left the shuttle bay, the faint sound of Luma’s purring followed them—a reminder that, in the chaos of space, even a robotic cat could cause an adventure worth telling.

The Duj drifted through uncharted space, its engines humming steadily in the stillness. On the bridge, Zog leaned back in the captain’s chair, his mechanical systems thrumming faintly as he stared at the empty navigation display. The void stretched endlessly ahead—silent, unknowable, and endlessly frustrating.

“We’ve got to figure out how to get back to the chartered universe,” he muttered. “Can’t keep wandering blind forever.”

“Speaking of wandering blind…” Clorita’s voice cut through the quiet, laced with curiosity. She was perched at the starboard observation console, squinting at the screen. “Hey, Captain Homesick. You might want to take a look at this.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Zog turned, frowning. “What now?”

Clorita pointed at a faint, pulsing red dot on the display. It flickered far in the distance, barely distinguishable against the blackness. “See that? It’s faint, but it’s there.”

Zog narrowed his eyes, then scoffed. “Probably just another anomaly. We’ve seen a thousand of those since we got lost out here.”

Clorita smirked, spinning in her chair. “Oh, come on, Zog. Are you not even curious? This one’s different from the usual static. And besides, we haven’t had anything new to chase since the last mess.”

“Chasing ‘new’ is what got us stranded in the first place,” Zog shot back dryly.

Clorita leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “We’ve got nowhere else to go, Captain Curious. Unless you’ve cracked BOB’s navigational puzzle while I wasn’t looking.”

BOB chimed in with a maddening cheer. “Captain, my attempts to reconnect to charted space remain unsuccessful. However, the red signal does provide a unique deviation from baseline scans. Exploring it may yield useful data.”

Zog groaned, glaring at the console as if it had personally betrayed him. “Of course, you’d take her side.”

Clorita grinned, unrepentant. “Face it, Captain. Sitting here sulking about where we can’t go isn’t getting us anywhere. At least the dot is something.”

HALAT, who had been silently observing, stepped closer to the viewport, her head tilting slightly as her sensors engaged. “The signal is faint but stable. I recommend caution in approaching, but further investigation could provide new data—or resources.”

Zog rubbed the back of his neck, his circuits buzzing faintly. “This is a bad idea.”

“Noted,” Clorita said. “Plotting a course now.”

Zog threw up his hands. “I didn’t say yes!”

“You didn’t say no, either,” Clorita replied smugly, fingers already dancing across the controls. The Duj’s engines rumbled as the ship adjusted course, veering toward the faint, flickering dot.

Zog slumped back into his chair, muttering to himself. “Curiosity killed the captain…”

Clorita shot him a glance over her shoulder, a sly grin playing on her lips. “Good thing Luma used up all our bad luck earlier, huh?”

BOB’s voice chimed in, far too cheerful. “Reassurance: current ship systems are stable. However, I recommend preparing for unknown variables.”

The Duj's engines thrummed steadily as the ship crept closer to the flickering red dot. Tension hung thick in the air on the bridge. The once-tiny blip had grown larger, pulsing slowly and deliberately, casting a faint glow across the forward viewport.

BOB’s scanners worked overtime, flooding the central console with streams of unreadable data.

Zog leaned forward, fingers tapping the armrest. “BOB, what are we looking at?”

BOB’s voice chimed in, calm but analytical. “Preliminary analysis suggests the signal originates from a construct—a structure or vessel, potentially derelict. The energy signature is inconsistent, suggesting it is either damaged or operating under restricted power.”

Clorita perked up, leaning forward like a predator eyeing prey. “Could be salvageable. Might even be worth something.”

Zog groaned, rubbing his temple. “Or it could be a trap. A flashing neon sign saying, ‘Welcome to your doom.’”

“Unlikely,” BOB interjected. “The signal does not match patterns associated with hostile entities or bait. However, further investigation is required.”

HALAT, silent until now, stepped closer to the console, her glowing eyes narrowing slightly as she analysed the data. “The signal is accompanied by faint gravitational fluctuations. The object is large—potentially a station or a freighter. I recommend caution upon approach.”

Clorita smirked. “Caution? On the Duj? We don’t even have a caution light on this bucket.”

Zog shot her a look. “You’ll be the first out of the airlock if this thing tries to eat us.”

The ship slowed as they neared the source of the signal, and soon, the red dot resolved into a shape.

It was massive—a sprawling structure that looked part space station, part shipwreck. Jagged surfaces jutted at strange angles, adorned with spires that seemed to serve no discernible purpose. A faint, pulsing glow emanated from its centre, casting eerie shadows across its fractured hull.

“Looks like something out of a scrapyard horror flick,” Clorita muttered, her earlier enthusiasm dampened by the sight.

“Closer inspection required,” HALAT said. “The structure’s irregularities suggest it is not of standard design. This is… unusual.”

BOB’s voice chimed in. “Confirmed. The architecture does not match any known shipbuilding designs within the database. It is either exceedingly old or alien in origin.”

A low mechanical hiss escaped as Zog recalibrated his systems. “Perfect. Just what we need—something unknown, probably radioactive, definitely murderous.”

“Or profitable,” Clorita countered. “You’re always looking on the bright side, right?”

The Duj drifted closer, and the signal’s intensity increased. Suddenly, the pulsing glow slowed, and a new sound filled the cockpit—a low, rhythmic hum. It wasn’t random; it was steady. Measured. Almost like a heartbeat.

“That’s not ominous at all,” Zog said dryly, gripping the armrests of his chair.

Luma, perched on the console, flicked her tail, her ears twitching at the sound. She let out a low, curious meow.

The hum continued, reverberating through the cabin. Then BOB’s voice cut through the silence. “The structure’s central core appears to house the source of the signal. Further analysis suggests the energy signature is not a distress call but a broadcast beacon.”

“A beacon?” HALAT asked.

“Correct,” BOB replied. “It may be designed to attract attention—or deter it.”

Clorita raised an eyebrow. “Only one way to find out, Captain Doubtful. We dock, take a peek, and see if this thing’s a treasure chest or a tomb.”

Zog rubbed his temple again, his circuits buzzing faintly. “This is a bad idea.”

“You said that already,” Clorita quipped. “And here we are.”

The Duj moved closer still, the beacon's glow now illuminating the ship’s hull in a faint, unsettling red. As they prepared to dock, Zog muttered under his breath, “Curiosity didn’t just kill the captain—it’s about to kill the whole crew.”

Clorita smirked, already prepping her gear. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”