The crew trudged up the ramp of The Indifference, arms laden with crates, tools, and a few suspiciously glowing items that probably shouldn’t be handled without gloves. The ship groaned in protest as another crate was shoved into its already cramped storage room.

“Alright,” Zog said, dropping his load with a loud thud, “let’s take stock. What do we have, and how much did we spend?”

Clorita pulled out the CredEx, her metallic fingers brushing over the glowing display. “Current balance: 97 credits.”

Blip, chewing happily on his overpriced bone, barked. “Hey, we’ve still got some! We’re not broke!”

Clorita shot him a glare. “If you call ‘barely enough to buy a vending machine snack’, not broke.”

Zog rubbed his temples, glancing around at the mountain of items they’d hauled aboard. “Okay, but look at all this! We’ve got enough parts here to turn The Indifference into… something slightly less terrible.”

The pile of questionable purchases was growing by the second, as was the tension in the room.

“We spent nearly everything, and half of this is junk. What’s the plan, Captain?” Clorita sighed.

Zog frowned, scratching his head. “First, we prioritise the essentials. Power, navigation, and propulsion.”

Blip sniffed a strange canister labelled Quantum Fizz. “Can we prioritise snacks?”

Clorita swatted his paw away. “That’s not even edible!”

IND-E’s voice crackled from the speakers. “Might I suggest a more practical approach? Focus on the parts that won’t immediately kill us if they fail.”

“Good idea,” Zog muttered. “Clorita, can you sort the essentials from the… less essential?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean to sort the useful parts from your poor life choices? Sure.”

Clorita crouched near the growing pile of purchases, her sharp gaze sweeping over the collection of parts, gadgets, and questionable trinkets they had hauled aboard. “Alright,” she said, rubbing her metallic fingers together. “Let’s see what we’ve wasted our credits on.”

Zog and Blip hovered nearby, both looking far too pleased with themselves.

Clorita picked up a slightly rusted power converter and turned it over in her hands. A faint clink echoed as a loose component rattled inside. She let out a soft sigh.

“This,” she said, holding it up, “should stabilise the reactor. If it doesn’t explode first.”

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Zog’s circuits buzzed in alarm. “Explode?!”

Clorita gave him a pointed look. “Relax, Captain. I said ‘if.’” She paused, then muttered, “Though the odds are probably closer to fifty-fifty.”

“That’s not comforting,” Zog replied, stepping back slightly.

Zog reached into the pile and proudly held up the GalaxyPro 4200, a bulky device with faint scorch marks on one corner. “And this,” he grinned, “is our new navigation system.”

Clorita arched an eyebrow. “Is that a museum piece?”

“It works!” Zog said defensively. “Probably.”

From the overhead speakers, IND-E’s voice crackled to life. “Ah, the GalaxyPro 4200. It's a true relic of navigation history. Shall I install it alongside our abacus for maximum precision?”

Zog glared at the nearest speaker. “Don’t tempt me, IND-E.”

Blip pawed at a small, pulsating orb nestled in the pile. The soft glow shifted colours, casting strange shadows on the walls of the storage room.

“This thing’s neat!” Blip barked, nudging it with his nose. “What does it do?”

Clorita leaned over, her glowing eyes narrowing at the strange object. “No idea,” she said flatly. “Let’s not find out on the ship.”

Blip wagged his tail, clearly not listening. “It looks like a toy!”

Zog groaned. “Don’t break it before we figure out if it’s useful—or radioactive.”

Zog sifted through a pile of metal panels and tangled wires. He picked up a large, dented sheet and held it up for inspection.

“This could be useful,” he said, turning it this way and that. “Hull repairs, maybe?”

Blip tilted his head, his tail wagging slightly. “Or a huge chew toy.”

Clorita shot him a glare. “If you chew on the hull patches, I’ll weld your jaw shut.”

Blip barked defensively. “I’m just saying it looks tasty.”

Clorita sighed, standing up and surveying the chaotic pile. “Well, it’s not the worst collection of junk I’ve seen. Barely.”

Zog crossed his arms. “It’s not junk! These are parts we need to keep the ship running.”

“It’s a miracle this ship is running at all,” Clorita muttered, shaking her head. “But fine. Let’s install this mess before I lose what’s left of my patience.”

Blip barked happily, his tail wagging. “Dibs on the glowing thing!”

“Touch it,” Clorita said coolly, “and I’ll weld you to the hull.”

Blip froze, then slunk toward the corner to chew on his bone instead.

Clorita turned sharply to Zog, one eyebrow raised. “Did you buy a new welding machine, Zog?”

Zog blinked, suddenly looking guilty. “Uh… not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Clorita’s voice was calm, but her glowing eyes narrowed dangerously. “What exactly did you buy, then?”

Zog shuffled awkwardly, nudging a nearby crate with his foot. “Well, I figured the old one still works if you jiggle the power coupler…”

Clorita groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You spent 800 credits on a glorified space map and didn’t think to replace the one thing we use to keep this ship from falling apart?”

Blip perked up, his bone dangling from his mouth. “In his defence, the GalaxyPro 4200 is vintage.”

Clorita shot him a look that could melt steel. “I’ll weld your tail first.”

Blip yelped and ducked behind a crate.

Zog held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay! Let’s not start welding anyone. Look, the old machine still works. Sort of.”

Clorita’s expression didn’t soften. “Then I suggest you fix it before I use it to save your sorry circuits.”