Blip poked his head out from behind the crate, wagging his tail cautiously. “Maybe that glowing thing I found can weld stuff?”
Clorita spun toward him, exasperated. “You want to use an unknown, possibly volatile object to patch the hull?”
Blip barked. “Why not? It’s shiny.”
IND-E’s voice crackled overhead. “Perhaps the mutt is onto something. Shall I perform a diagnostics scan on this ‘shiny thing’ to confirm its utility?”
Clorita sighed. “Yes. Do that. Before we end up accidentally blowing ourselves up.”
Blip tilted his head. “Blowing ourselves up? That sounds fun.”
Zog groaned, rubbing his temples. “Why do I feel like every day on this ship is a death lottery?”
Clorita smirked faintly. “Because it is. Now, let’s get to work.”
Zog crouched near a dusty crate tucked in the corner of the pile, brushing away a layer of grime to reveal a sleek, metallic device inside. Its casing was jet-black with glowing red accents, radiating a faint energy hum.
“Wait,” Zog said, pulling it out carefully. “What’s this?”
Clorita turned and froze, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the device. “That,” she said slowly, “is a Mark VII Plasma-Weldmaster. A prototype so dangerous they nicknamed it the Handheld Supernova.”
Blip trotted over, sniffing at the device. “Why’s it dangerous? Looks cool.”
Clorita crossed her arms. “It runs at temperatures high enough to melt most metals—including the operator’s equipment if they’re not careful. The plasma control system is notoriously unstable, and a heat venting mechanism... well, it doesn’t have one.”
“Doesn’t have one?” Zog said, his voice climbing. “That sounds bad.”
“Bad?” Clorita gave him a sharp look. “It’s not just bad—it’s ‘spontaneous combustion in your hand’ bad. They pulled it from production before anyone could finish the manual.”
Zog pulled out a small disk from the crate, its surface etched with the words "Mark VII Plasma-Weldmaster User Manual: Version 0.9 (Preliminary)."
“Well,” Zog said, holding it up, “at least it comes with instructions.”
Clorita snorted. “Let me guess. It’s 90% warnings and 10% ‘good luck?’”
He squinted at the disk. “I mean, it does say ‘preliminary.’” He held it out, hesitating for a moment. “Uh… can you… you know, process this?”
Clorita arched an eyebrow, her metallic frame stiffening slightly. “You want me to download a manual for a device that could turn this ship into molten slag if misused?”
“Well,” Zog said, grinning, “you are the most logical choice.”
With a resigned sigh, Clorita stepped forward and extended a slender panel from her side, revealing a slot for data input. “Fine. But if this fries my circuits, I’m haunting you.”
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Zog swallowed hard, then gently slipped the disk into her slot. The soft hum of processing filled the air as Clorita’s glowing eyes flickered faintly.
After a moment, Clorita spoke, her tone flat. “This manual is… thorough.”
“How thorough?” Zog asked cautiously.
“It’s over 8,000 pages,” Clorita said, her voice tinged with disbelief. “The first 1,500 are warnings. The rest is dense engineering jargon and poorly labelled diagrams that might as well be abstract art.”
Blip wagged his tail. “Sounds fun! Can we try it now?”
Clorita shot him a glare. “Not unless you want to vaporise the hull—and yourself.”
IND-E chimed in, his voice smooth and amused. “Oh, this is delightful. A dangerous, overly complex tool paired with an impatient mutt and a captain with questionable judgment. What could go wrong?”
Despite the dire warnings, the crew decided to test the device on a scrap piece of metal in the ship’s cargo bay. Clorita took point, adjusting the controls with precision while Zog and Blip watched from a very safe distance.
“Alright,” Clorita said, her voice calm but firm. “Initiating a low-power test. Stand back.”
The Weldmaster roared to life, emitting a blinding beam of blue plasma. The scrap metal melted instantly, pooling into an ominous puddle.
“Whoa!” Zog exclaimed, shielding his eyes. “That’s... intense.”
Blip barked excitedly. “I like it! Can I try?”
Clorita didn’t even glance at him. “Absolutely not.”
The device sputtered slightly, emitting a faint pop, and Clorita quickly shut it down. She turned to Zog, her expression stern. “This thing is absurdly powerful and absurdly dangerous. If we use it, we need to be extremely careful.”
“Got it,” Zog said, nodding earnestly. “Careful. Definitely.”
Blip grinned. “I still wanna try it.”
Clorita sighed, handing the device to Zog. “Keep it locked up unless I say otherwise. And if I catch Blip within five feet of it, I’m using him as a test subject.”
Blip yelped and scampered away, his tail tucked between his legs.
The crew gathered in the cockpit as The Indifference drifted closer to Planet Erythra, staring at the glowing, pulsing surface below. Erythra wasn’t like any planet they had seen before. It shimmered with a faint red light, its surface appearing to ripple and breathe like living tissue—strange, swirling patterns formed and disappeared across its surface as though the planet itself were thinking.
“I don’t like this,” Zog muttered, gripping the controls. “It’s… looking at us.”
Blip barked nervously. “Can planets look? Because if it can, I think it’s judging me.”
Clorita leaned over the console, her glowing eyes narrowing. “It’s sentient, remember? That means it’s probably judging all of us.”
IND-E’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Ah, a living planet. How quaint. Shall I prepare my best compliments, or are we here to grovel?”
Zog ignored him, tapping the comms panel. “SPAZE, any data on this thing?”
The navigation system emerged: “Welcome to Erythra, a Class-S planet with a fully conscious biosphere. Landing rights are granted only by the planet’s approval. Oh! And, fun fact: it has a 92% rejection rate for visitors.”
Blip tilted his head. “What happens if it rejects us?”
“Atmospheric expulsion, Captain. You’ll be hurled into space at approximately Mach 5,” SPAZE replied.
Zog paled. “Great. Just great.”
As the ship entered orbit, the cockpit’s main display flickered to life, and a deep, resonant voice echoed through the speakers. It was slow, deliberate, and slightly annoyed—like a being rudely awakened from a nap.
“Who… dares… disturb me?” the voice asked with a timbre that would not sound bad in a vampire movie.
Zog exchanged a nervous glance with Clorita, then cleared his throat. “Uh, hello, great and mighty Erythra. We’re just passing through and thought we’d—”
“You thought? How quaint. I can sense your thoughts, you know. They’re… disappointing,” Erythra cut in.
Blip barked indignantly. “Hey, my thoughts are great!”
Erythra immediately replied: “Your thoughts are about snacks.”
Blip tilted his head. “Fair.”
Clorita stepped forward, her voice calm and authoritative. “We need your permission to land. Our ship requires repairs, and your surface may have the necessary resources.”
“Permission? Why should I allow your incompetence to sully my pristine surface?” Erythra questioned.
Zog grimaced. “Well, when you put it like that…”