Minutes later, both stood in front of the workshop’s cracked mirror. HALAT’s once-dented frame now gleamed, her polished plating catching the dim light. Clorita’s clothes were patched, pressed, and just shy of perfection—if you ignored the faint scorch mark she insisted gave her ‘character.’

“Not bad, Spark,” Clorita said, giving HALAT an approving nod. “We’re ready to dazzle.”

HALAT examined her reflection critically. “The improvements are sufficient. I will ensure optimal functionality during the excursion.”

Clorita chuckled. “You’re so serious. Relax—it’s just a mall trip, not a mission.”

HALAT turned around, her tone as even as ever. “All activities are missions. Some merely lack clear objectives.”

Clorita grinned. “Fair enough. Let’s go knock ‘em dead.”

With their repairs complete and their pride intact, the two returned to the bridge, ready for their next adventure.

The Duj exited hyperspace with a lurch, the swirling starlight giving way to a massive, glowing construct ahead. The Nebula Nexus Shopping Expanse wasn’t just a station—it was a full-blown megalopolis carved into the hollowed core of an asteroid. Bright neon lights flickered along its jagged edges, holographic ads projecting everything from anti-gravity boots to zero-G hot tubs. A shimmering force field enclosed the entire structure, keeping its manufactured atmosphere intact.

Zog leaned forward in his chair, frowning. “Is that a mall or a carnival?”

“It is both,” BOB replied. “And neither. It is a monument to capitalism.”

The Duj joined a queue of ships waiting to dock. Small freighters and sleek private vessels zipped into designated bays, while massive cargo ships hovered in holding patterns like overworked beasts of burden. The Duj, by far the largest ship in sight, drew several gawking stares as it tried to align with an orbital parking lane.

STELA’s polished voice chimed in. “The Nebula Nexus is designed to accommodate vessels of all sizes. However, larger ships such as ours may require additional clearance.”

Zog groaned. “Just say it—we’re too big to fit.”

Clorita smirked. “Sounds like someone’s compensating.”

Zog shot her a glare. “Keep talking, and you’re paying for parking.”

“Estimated wait time: 42 minutes,” STELA added smoothly.

Zog’s circuits buzzed faintly as he sank back into his chair. “Fantastic. Stuck in orbit while the tiny ships get front-row seats.”

Clorita glanced at the external cameras, where shuttles zipped effortlessly toward the glowing mall entrance. “So, what’s the plan? We just hover up here and watch other people have fun?”

“Unless you’ve figured out how to teleport,” Zog replied dryly, rubbing his temple. “We’re not exactly built for quick stops.”

STELA interrupted. “Orbital parking secured. Shuttle transport is now available. A direct link to the main concourse has been provided.”

Clorita jumped to her feet, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m calling the first shuttle. HALAT, you coming?”

HALAT tilted her head, scanning the neon spectacle below. “I will accompany you.”

“Fantastic,” Zog grumbled. “While you two blow credits we don’t have, I’ll stay here and make sure no one repossesses the ship.”

BOB chuckled faintly. “As if anyone could tow this hunk of steel. Shall I prepare a bowl of LubriCoffee to console you, Captain Couch?”

Zog scowled. “Don’t push it.”

As the first shuttle detached from the Duj and descended into the glowing chaos below, Clorita and HALAT braced themselves—because nothing in their lives ever went smoothly, and a mall this big had way too many ways for things to go wrong.

As the shuttle docked, Clorita and HALAT stepped onto the polished floors of the Nebula Nexus Shopping Expanse. The concourse was a swirling chaos of holographic ads, vendors hawking exotic wares, and music from at least a dozen different sources, all somehow blending into a chaotic symphony.

Clorita grinned. “Now this... this is what I call a shopping trip.”

HALAT’s optics scanned the bustling scene. “This environment is highly congested. Probability of unnecessary interactions: 74.6%.”

“Relax, Spark,” Clorita said, clapping her on the back. “We’re here to have fun.”

They barely made it three steps before a voice cut through the chatter.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Excuse me, ladies.”

Clorita turned to see a tall, chrome-skinned alien in an elaborate star-patterned vest, smiling with the confidence of a man who thought he had all the right words.

“You’ve got the kind of energy that lights up a quadrant,” he said smoothly, flashing what he clearly thought was an irresistible grin. “I couldn’t help but notice. Care to let me orbit your systems?”

Clorita blinked. “Orbit what now?”

“Your systems,” the alien repeated, as if that clarified anything. “You know—sync up, establish a connection. Maybe align our... frequencies?”

HALAT tilted her head, optics narrowing. “Your terminology is vague. State your intent clearly.”

The alien chuckled. “A bit literal, are we? How about this: I’d love to upgrade my day by spending it with you two. Maybe we could explore the cosmos of connection together?”

Clorita crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Cosmos of connection? Are you selling something? Because I’m not interested in a timeshare.”

The alien’s confidence flickered. “No, no—nothing like that. I’m just saying you’re... enchanting. Beautiful. Like rare galactic phenomena.”

HALAT’s optics flickered as she analysed his expression. “I detect potential falsehoods in your statement.”

The alien’s smooth façade cracked slightly. “It’s a compliment, not a diagnostic.”

Clorita squinted at him. “Why are you talking like a bad holo-drama? Just say what you mean.”

The alien sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fine—can I buy you a drink? Maybe a round of Galaxy Glow Shots?”

HALAT’s optics flickered. “Galaxy Glow Shots? I was unaware beverages were luminous.”

Clorita snorted. “You’re trying to pick us up, aren’t you? All this talk about orbiting systems and glow shots—this is flirting!”

The alien’s confidence rebounded, his grin widening. “Caught me. Can you blame me? Two stunning women like yourselves—who wouldn’t try?”

HALAT stared at him, processing. “Your approach is inefficient. Your use of metaphors lacks precision.”

“HALAT,” Clorita said, fighting back a laugh, “that’s not how flirting works.”

HALAT remained firm. “I disagree. If one’s intent is unclear, the interaction is inherently flawed.”

The alien chuckled nervously, realising he was way out of his depth. “Well, maybe you could teach me a better way?”

Clorita grinned, pouncing. “Sure. Step one: don’t approach two bruised humanoids fresh from a workout with lines that sound like they came from a bad romance novel.”

HALAT nodded. “Step two: cease immediately when one of them labels your actions as ‘flirting.’”

The alien blinked. “Right. Uh... got it. Enjoy your shopping.”

He turned and walked away—fast.

Clorita burst out laughing. “Spark, I think we broke him.”

Halat watched him disappear into the crowd and then stated matter-of-factly, “His operational efficiency was inadequate for the task.”

Clorita wiped a tear from her eye. “Yeah, but I gotta give him credit—he had guts.”

HALAT tilted her head. “I did not detect additional organs.”

Clorita completely lost it.

Moments later, HALAT emerged from the changing booth. Her mini dress clung to her frame, reflecting the boutique’s lights with every subtle movement.

Clorita gawked. “Spark, you look incredible! If Zog saw you like this, he’d probably short-circuit.”

HALAT shifted stiffly. “This design is structurally flawed. The hemline restricts optimal movement.”

Before Clorita could argue, a voice cut through the boutique like a laser beam.

“Ah, magnifique!”

A short, lime-green alien with an excessively tailored jacket and an alarmingly wide grin appeared, clapping his hands in pure delight.

“This is perfection! The lines, the symmetry—so futuristic, yet timeless! Simply stunning!”

HALAT stood rigid as the salesman bustled around her, adjusting the fabric with lightning speed.

“The hem needs to sit just here,” he murmured, tugging slightly at the back of the dress to adjust the fit.

That was his mistake.

In one fluid motion, HALAT’s combat subroutines were activated.

* Her arm shot out like a vice, locking onto his wrist with precision-engineered force.

* Her other hand snapped up, shoving him backwards with calculated efficiency.

* The salesman yelped, stumbling into a rack of shimmering jumpsuits.

Clorita froze.

For half a second.

Then she doubled over laughing. “Oh no, Spark, you can’t just hook the guy!”

The salesman, wide-eyed and breathless, raised both hands in surrender. “I-I was just adjusting the fit! No offence meant!”

HALAT released him, her optics narrowing. “Unwanted physical contact is unacceptable. State your intentions clearly next time.”

The salesman straightened his jacket shakily, his smile returning—albeit much more carefully. “O-of course! My deepest apologies. I’ll... uh... give you space.”

Clorita clapped a hand on HALAT’s shoulder. “Relax, Spark. These guys are always like this—overly hands-on. No harm done.”

HALAT adjusted the minidress, her voice deadpan. “His technique was inefficient. I do not require assistance.”

Clorita snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. You looked like you were about to suplex him into the clearance rack.”

Now hovering at a safer distance, the salesman cleared his throat and gestured toward another display.

“Perhaps... madame would prefer something from our armoured couture line? Very practical. No adjustments required.”

Clorita grinned. “Good call. Spark, let’s see what else they’ve got.”

HALAT followed her to another rack, still in the minidress, her posture as composed as ever.

“This exercise is highly inefficient.”

Clorita smirked. “Maybe. But it’s also hilarious.”