Then there was IND-E. Zog glanced down at the communicator on his wrist, where IND-E had been suspiciously silent for the past few minutes.
Prime’s smooth, purring voice broke the silence. “Captain Zog, I assure you that the Celestial Reverie’s systems are intuitive and user-friendly. Should you require assistance, I am at your service.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Zog muttered. “You’re... too polished. Too helpful. You sound like an advertisement. Where’s the sarcasm? The passive-aggressive quips? The barely veiled disdain?”
Clorita snorted. “You like that IND-E gives you grief?”
“No,” Zog said quickly, though his circuits buzzed with hesitation. “But... I’m used to it. He’s... predictable.”
“Predictable? IND-E once suggested we fix a hull breach with duct tape,” Clorita pointed out.
“And it worked!” Zog shot back, his voice rising. “Well... mostly. And besides, what happens to IND-E now? Do we just leave him on the Indifference? Scrap him for parts? He’s annoying, but he’s... ours.”
Prime’s voice remained calm, though a faint hint of amusement crept into it.
“Captain Zog, while IND-E may lack my efficiency and precision, I understand the value of... familiarity. If you choose to transfer him to this vessel, I will make the necessary adjustments to integrate him into the Celestial Reverie’s systems.”
“Adjustments?” Zog repeated, narrowing his eyes. “What kind of adjustments?”
“Simply to ensure compatibility,” Prime said smoothly. “I would not compromise his... unique personality.”
“Right,” Zog muttered, still unconvinced. “Because this day couldn’t get any more complicated.”
Zog wandered over to the charging station at the back of the bridge. It gleamed like a miniature monolith, its chrome finish reflecting the dim bridge lighting. It was sleek, streamlined, and entirely different from the clunky, half-functional stations on the Indifference. He could already feel his anxiety mounting.
Clorita walked up behind him, tapping the polished surface with a knuckle. “See? Top of the line. You’ll be fully charged in a fraction of the time.”
Zog stared at it, his circuits buzzing with discomfort. “It’s... too shiny. And what if it overcharges me? What if it malfunctions and fries my CPU?”
Clorita groaned. “Zog, it’s a charging station, not a death ray.”
“I’ve read stories!” Zog said defensively. “There’s a reason older models stick around. They’re reliable. This thing looks like it was designed to charge a fleet of android super-soldiers.”
Clorita shook her head, muttering something about melodrama under her breath.
A familiar wave of dread washed over him as Zog stood there, trying to imagine himself at the helm of this massive, modern ship. He wasn’t programmed for change. His original coding revolved around routines, predictability, and small, manageable tasks. But ever since they’d left Spiroxi-5, it felt like his life had been an unending series of chaos, surprises, and near-death experiences.
“This is too much,” he said softly, more to himself than to Clorita. “I wasn’t built for this.”
Clorita’s expression softened—a rare sight. “No one’s built for this, Captain. But you’re doing it anyway. And that’s what counts.”
Zog looked up at her, his circuits buzzing faintly. “What if I mess it up?”
“Then you’ll fix it,” Clorita said simply. “Or we’ll fix it. Together. That’s how this works.”
Zog sighed, glancing at the captain’s chair, where Luma was now grooming herself, entirely indifferent to his existential crisis. “I hope you’re right.”
Clorita patted his shoulder. “I’m always right. Now, stop sulking. We’ve got a ship to make our own.”
The ship’s hum shifted into a low, ominous vibration, resonating through the bridge like a harbinger of doom. Zog’s circuits buzzed uneasily as the unsettling sound mingled with the calm, too-calm voice of Prime cutting through the speakers.
“Captain Zog, Clorita, we have a situation,” Prime announced. “The Celestial Reverie is caught in the gravitational pull of the black hole. Immediate action is required.”
Zog’s jaw dropped as he stumbled toward the copilot’s seat. “What?! And you’re telling us this now?”
Prime’s tone remained frustratingly even. “The ship’s proximity has always been... precarious. However, the recent power fluctuations have destabilised our orbit. Emergency propulsion must be activated immediately to escape.”
Clorita bolted to the captain’s chair, scooping Luma off the controls with one hand and slamming herself into the seat with the other. “Prime, can this thing even move with half the systems offline?”
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“Partially. While main engines are nonfunctional, emergency thrusters remain operational. They should suffice—assuming immediate deployment.”
Zog fumbled into his seat beside her, his hands hovering nervously over the glowing, blinking controls. “Okay, uh, how do we turn them on?”
Prime’s calm voice carried a sharp edge of urgency. “Clorita, engage manual thruster controls. Captain Zog, adjust the ship’s trajectory using the navigation panel.”
“Adjust it where?!” Zog yelped, staring at the labyrinth of buttons and levers before him. “Everything’s blinking!”
Prime: “Point the ship away from the black hole.”
“And which direction is that?!” Zog shouted, his circuits buzzing with panic.
Clorita didn’t bother responding. She slammed her fist onto a glowing button, and the emergency thrusters roared to life. The ship shuddered violently, groaning as it strained against the black hole’s immense pull.
The bridge lights flickered ominously, accompanied by the blaring of overlapping warning sirens. Zog clung to his seat as the ship lurched, his circuits sparking with stress.
“Trajectory adjustment is critical,” Prime urged. “Please align the ship with—”
“I’M TRYING!” Zog shouted, grabbing a lever and yanking it hard. The Reverie tilted sharply, and a nearby console sparked violently. “This thing has too many buttons! Why can’t it just have an autopilot?!”
“Autopilot is currently nonfunctional due to prior damage,” Prime replied calmly.
“Great!” Zog grumbled, flailing at the controls. “Anything else not working that we should know about?”
Clorita barked over the cacophony, her hands flying across her console. “Zog, focus! Stabilise us long enough for the thrusters to kick in!”
“I don’t even know what I’m stabilising!” Zog wailed as the ship lurched again, adding another alarm to the cacophony. His fingers flew over the navigation panel as he desperately tried to make sense of the chaos.
“Prime,” Clorita barked, her tone tight with urgency. “How long before it’s too late to break free?”
“At current thrust output... 48 seconds,” Prime replied.
“Feels like a lifetime,” Clorita muttered, gripping her console tighter as the ship shuddered again.
A sudden jolt rocked the ship, and Clorita’s console lit up with a cascade of angry red warnings.
“Warning,” Prime announced. “Hull stress has reached critical levels in sections A-14 and C-7.”
Zog’s voice rose an octave. “What does that mean?!”
Clorita’s teeth clenched. “It means we’re about to get ripped apart! Boost the thrusters!”
“But won’t that burn out the engines?” Zog hesitated, his hand hovering over the lever.
“Then at least we won’t die in a black hole! Just do it!”
Zog slammed the lever forward, and the thrusters roared louder, their vibrations shaking the entire ship. Outside, the black hole loomed larger, its swirling event horizon a reminder of their precarious proximity.
The ship groaned and shuddered, but the thrusters surged with newfound power, fighting to gain traction against the gravitational pull. Prime’s voice remained unnervingly composed.
“Thrust output has reached optimal levels. We are now 12 seconds from achieving escape velocity.”
“Good,” Clorita said through gritted teeth, her eyes glued to her console. “Zog, keep us steady.”
“I’m trying!” Zog shouted, his circuits buzzing with stress. His grip tightened on the navigation controls, and with a final, desperate yank, he tilted the ship back on course.
The ship groaned and shook as the thrusters fought to gain traction. Prime’s voice remained unnervingly calm.
“Thrust output has reached optimal levels. We are now 12 seconds from achieving escape velocity,” Prime informed with a voice as if they were parallel parking.
“Good,” Clorita said, gripping her console tightly. “Zog, keep us steady.”
“I’m still trying!” Zog shouted, condense dripping from his brow as he yanked the navigation controls. The ship tilted sharply, but the thrusters adjusted, trying to push them further from the black hole’s grasp.
At the exact moment Prime began its countdown, Zog and Clorita braced themselves against the consoles. The Celestial Reverie shuddered violently as the thrusters struggled against the gravitational pull. The bridge lights flickered, and the ominous swirl of the black hole filled the viewport.
Prime kept counting: “Ten... nine... eight—”
“What happened to seven?!” Zog shouted, gripping the controls like his life depended on it.
But Clorita didn’t answer. Her eyes darted around the bridge, her shotgun still close at hand. Something was gnawing at her, a tiny detail she hadn’t noticed in the chaos until now.
“Wait,” she said suddenly. “Where’s the cat?”
Zog blinked, his circuits buzzing. “What?”
“Luma!” Clorita snapped, standing up. “Where’s Luma? She was here on the bridge!”
Zog threw his arms in the air. “We’re about to get sucked into a black hole, and you’re worried about the cat?!”
Clorita ignored him, scanning the room. Luma was gone, but there was no time to figure out how or why. The ship lurched again as the thrusters roared louder.
Prime continued the countdown: “Seven...”
Before Zog could panic further, the Celestial Reverie suddenly jerked forward, the pressure in the cabin shifting dramatically. A new force had joined the thrusters, pulling the massive vessel away from the black hole’s deadly grip.
Clorita froze. “What the...?”
Prime happily informed the crew: “Additional force detected. The Indifference has engaged its engines and is applying counter-thrust to assist in extraction.”
Zog stared at the glowing console in disbelief. “The Indifference?! Who’s piloting it?”
Prime’s voice softened, almost amused.
“Luma appears to have accessed the Indifference’s controls. She, along with your onboard AI, has initiated the engines.”
“What?!” Zog spluttered. “Luma and IND-E?!”
Clorita sank back into her seat, a grin breaking through her tension. “I’ll be damned. The cat’s smarter than both of us.