Blip stumbled beside them as they hurried through the market, his movements jerky and barking interspersed with dreamy muttering.
“Everything’s… so shiny,” Blip said, staring at a random scrap pile. “Do you see the scrap? It’s dancing.”
“We’ve got to get him back to the ship before he gets worse,” Clorita said, quickening her pace.
As they approached the landing pad, a group of shadowy figures stepped into their path, blocking their way. One of them, a wiry alien with glowing green eyes, pointed a jagged blade at Zog.
“You’ve been spending a lot of credits,” the alien hissed. “Hand over the rest, or we’ll take more than your wallet.”
Blip wobbled forward, barking erratically. “You want the shiny? I’ll give you the shiny!”
Before anyone could react, Blip lunged at the alien. His unpredictable movements caused the group to scatter in confusion. Barking and spinning in circles, Blip created a whirlwind of chaos.
Clorita took advantage of the distraction, pulling out the ray gun and firing a warning shot. “Back off, or the next one won’t miss.”
The shadowy figures hesitated before retreating into the crowd, muttering curses.
Blip collapsed at Zog’s feet, his tail still wagging faintly. “I scared them… right? I was… awesome.”
Zog scooped him up, sighing. “Yeah, buddy. You were awesome.”
Once safely aboard The Indifference, Clorita set to work on Blip, quickly moving her hands as she adjusted his processors.
“This would be easier if you hadn’t eaten random junk,” she muttered.
Blip’s eyes flickered, his voice slurring. “But it was… shiny…”
“Enough with the shiny,” Clorita snapped, making a final adjustment. Blip’s systems reset with a faint click, and he blinked at her.
“Am I… fixed?” he asked cautiously.
“You’re fine,” Clorita said, standing up. “But if you eat anything else from the ground, I’m installing a shock collar.”
Zog smirked. “You mean she hasn’t already?”
IND-E’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Well, that was entertaining. Shall I prepare the LubriCoffee, or are we still tripping over ourselves?”
Clorita groaned, leaning back in her chair. “I hate this ship.”
Blip wagged his tail. “I love this ship.”
The cockpit of The Indifference buzzed with muted tension. Outside, the landing pad rattled under the distant rumble of passing ships and the faint crackle of neon signs. Zog leaned against the control panel, staring at the blinking notification that flashed across the screen.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Zog muttered, throwing his hands up in frustration.
Clorita, lounging in the copilot’s seat with her boots up on the console, smirked. “What’s the rush, Captain Churn? You’re always so eager to leave planets that might kill us.”
“Because they might kill us,” Zog replied, gesturing toward the viewport. “We’re sitting ducks here.”
Blip, sprawled on the floor chewing on a discarded bolt, looked up. “Ducks? Do ducks fly? Can we fly?”
“Not through a meteorite storm,” Clorita said, inspecting her ray gun. “And definitely not with this ship.”
Zog sighed, pacing back and forth. “Fine. We’re stuck for now. But let’s at least go over what we’ve got. Any chance you didn’t blow all our credits on weapons?”
Clorita raised an eyebrow, holding up the ray gun. “This little thing chased off an entire gang. I’d say it was worth it.”
“For now,” Zog said, crossing his arms. “What happens when you run out of shots or the next group has bigger guns?”
“Then we buy bigger guns,” Clorita replied smoothly. “Honestly, Zog, this peacekeeper act is getting old. We need to be prepared.”
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“We need to fix the ship,” Zog countered. “Better shields, better engines. Something that doesn’t involve us running for our lives every time we land somewhere.”
Blip barked, his tail wagging. “What about both? Can’t we get both?”
“We can’t afford both,” Zog said.
Clorita rolled her eyes. “Sure we can. We’ve got credits on Otaceni earning interest faster than you can blink.”
At that moment, IND-E’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Ah, the joys of financial ignorance. Perhaps I should enlighten you.”
Zog frowned. “Enlighten us about what?”
“The state of your savings account,” IND-E replied smugly. The console flickered to life, displaying a glowing number that seemed almost too large to fit on the screen:
178,545,513,888.71 credits.
Zog blinked. “What? That can’t be right. It was 750,000 credits three hours ago.”
“Correct,” IND-E said, his tone dripping with amusement. “It seems you underestimated the power of compound interest. At five per cent per Otaceni year—ten seconds Earth time—your modest fortune has grown exponentially over the past three hours.”
Clorita leaned forward, staring at the number. “You’re telling me we have over 178 billion credits sitting in that account?”
“178 billion, 545 million, 513 thousand, 888 credits and 71 subunits,” IND-E corrected. “And counting. The beauty of Otaceni’s time dilation is that your fortune grows while you wait for meteorite storms to blow over.”
Blip barked excitedly, spinning in circles. “We’re rich again! Can we buy shiny stuff? Like a laser bone?”
Zog stared at the screen, his circuits buzzing with disbelief. “That’s… unbelievable.”
“It’s math,” IND-E said simply.
Clorita smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Well, Captain Peacekeeper, I’d say that solves our problem. We can afford weapons and upgrades now.”
Zog frowned. “We can’t even access all of it without going to Otaceni.”
“No,” Clorita admitted, “but we’ve got 200,000 on hand. That’s plenty to get started.”
IND-E chimed in smoothly, “And an additional 200,000… and another 200,000. Once the online authorisation was granted, the account’s permissions became permanent.”
Zog shook his head. “I don’t like relying on Otaceni money. It feels… risky.”
“Relying on our luck feels risky,” Clorita shot back. “This fortune means we don’t have to scrape by anymore. We can be prepared for once.”
Blip barked happily. “Prepared for snacks!”
IND-E’s voice chimed in, sardonic as ever. “Ah, yes. Billions in the bank, and this crew’s highest ambition remains snacks and running from danger. LubriCoffee, anyone?”
Before Zog could respond, the console pinged again. The meteorite warning has been updated:
Meteorite Storm Clearing in 15 Minutes. Clearance Pending.
Zog sighed in relief. “Finally. Let’s just get out of here before something else goes wrong.”
Clorita stood, sliding the ray gun into her belt. “Fine. But we’re having this discussion again. We need to use that money wisely.”
Zog nodded reluctantly. “We’ll talk about it… once we’re in orbit.”
Blip wagged his tail. “And snacks! Don’t forget the snacks!”
As The Indifference prepared for lift-off, the enormous number on the screen glowed ominously, a silent reminder of both their fortune—and the trouble it could bring.
The Indifference's cockpit was quiet, except for the gentle hum of the ship’s systems. The meteorite storm loomed outside, but for now, they were safe, docked on Nyxara-8’s rickety landing pad.
Clorita stood at the console, stretching her arms. “Alright, since we’ve got fifteen minutes, let’s recharge. No point wasting time.”
Zog nodded, already feeling his circuits buzzing with fatigue. “Good idea. IND-E, prep the charging ports.”
“How delightful. A crew that charges itself while the universe moves on without them. Shall I provide soothing tones of existential dread?,” IND-E said.
“Just plug us in,” Zog muttered, stepping toward the charging station.
Blip barked happily, wagging his tail as he followed Zog. “I call the corner port! It’s cosier.”
The two hooked themselves to the cables, the soft glow of their charging cycles filling the room. Within moments, their systems entered low-power mode, leaving Clorita to her own devices.
She glanced at them, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Quietly, Clorita unplugged herself from the ship’s power grid and slipped out of the cockpit. She moved quickly, her steps precise as she navigated the narrow corridors of the marketplace. Her destination was clear—a small, shadowy stall tucked away at the far end of the bazaar.
The merchant there, a wiry figure with glowing red eyes, perked up as she approached. “Ah, the ray gun lady! Back for more?”
“I need weapons,” Clorita said, her voice low but firm. “Lots of them. Ammunition, grenades—whatever you’ve got.”
The merchant’s grin widened, revealing irregular teeth. “Expanding your arsenal, eh? That could get expensive.”
Clorita reached into her pocket, pulling out her portable credex linked to the Otaceni account. She had spent her earlier time in the cockpit quietly testing its limits and had discovered a loophole: larger transfer requests triggered a quicker release of funds.
“Don’t worry about credits,” she said, tapping the device. “How fast can you fill an order?”
“Fast enough,” the merchant replied, already gathering items. “What are you planning, lady?”
Clorita smirked faintly. “Nothing you need to worry about.”