Zog shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at the glowing array of screens before him. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the crumpled leaflet he picked up again as his mind raced. The unknown pressed in on him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. “I—I need to know where we’re going,” he stammered, his voice tight.
Blip raised an eyebrow or at least did something approximating one. “Why? Isn’t the ‘unknown’ the whole point of exploration?”
Zog’s eyes darted to the endless stars streaking past the viewport. “I don’t do well with… surprises. Or unknowns. I need—just tell me where we’re headed!”
IND-E sighed audibly over the speakers, a sound that somehow conveyed infinite disappointment. “Fine. Launching SPAZE: The Galactic Trip Planner. Try not to overthink this.”
One of the larger screens flickered to life, displaying a cheerful logo: SPAZE: Simplified Planetary Advice and Zone Exploration. Beneath it, a slogan scrolled in looping text: “Your journey, your way, as long as you don’t crash!”
The screen was soon filled with a holographic map of nearby star systems dotted with glowing red points of interest. A mechanical voice—far too chipper to belong to IND-E—chimed in.
“Welcome to SPAZE! Please select your destination from the highlighted zones. Recommended route: Due East!”
“East?” Zog frowned, staring at the map. “Space doesn’t have an East.”
“It does if you think about it hard enough,” IND-E replied lazily.
Zog ignored the comment, leaning forward as the red dots pulsated on the screen. They were scattered across the galaxy like freckles on a pale, uninterested face. One dot, the closest to their current position, flickered invitingly.
“That one,” Zog said, pointing at it. “What’s there?”
The screen zoomed in, displaying a rotating image of a dusty-looking planet labelled Orbor-7. The chipper SPAZE voice continued its narration:
“Orbor-7! It's a fascinating Class D desert world. Notable features: Large salt flats, occasional sandstorms, and a native population of sentient cacti! Warning: Average daytime temperatures exceed 200 degrees Celsius.”
“Sentient cacti?” Blip said, tilting his head. “Sounds prickly.”
“How long to get there?” Zog asked, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly. He needed specifics. Numbers. Something solid to hold on to.
IND-E answered with what sounded suspiciously like amusement. “For a real ship? Two hours, tops.”
Zog’s face lit up with cautious relief. “Oh. That’s not bad at all.”
The speakers crackled as IND-E continued. “For this ship? About a month. Assuming nothing falls off on the way.”
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Zog’s stomach sank. “A month?! How does it take that long?”
Blip let out a digital snort. “Welcome to The Indifference, where speed is optional, and suffering is mandatory.”
“The hyperdrive isn’t working,” IND-E admitted, though its tone suggested it had never had a hyperdrive. “We’ll be cruising at sub-light speeds, which are much more… scenic.”
“Scenic?” Zog repeated incredulously. “We’ll be in the middle of space! There’s nothing to see!”
“I didn’t say it was scenic for you,” IND-E replied. “Now, shall I plot the course, or do you want to keep complaining?”
With a resigned sigh, Zog nodded. “Fine. Plot the course. But what are we supposed to do for a whole month?”
Blip grinned, his metallic tail wagging faintly. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of ways to pass the time. Repairs. Dodging space debris. Not dying in a freak sandstorm when we finally land on Cactus World.”
SPAZE’s cheery voice interrupted.
“Your journey to Orbor-7 will begin shortly! Estimated travel time: 720 hours. Enjoy your trip!”
IND-E snorted. “Enjoy your trip,” it echoed mockingly. “Who wrote this script, a toaster?”
“IND-E…” Zog began, his voice strained.
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
As the new course plotted, the ship’s engines gave a low, grumbling roar. Zog leaned back into his seat, clutching the edges as the ship groaned and shuddered with the effort of turning. A faint puff of smoke emerged from one of the vents.
“Off to a great start,” Blip muttered.
The stars outside shifted slowly, their glittering trails bending as The Indifference lumbered toward its destination. Zog closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his fraying nerves. Predictability was already slipping through his fingers; it wasn’t what he’d wanted, but at least they had a destination.
That was something.
For now.
Zog stared at the glowing screen, his brow furrowed in concern. “Two hundred degrees Celsius?” he muttered, his voice tinged with unease. “Wouldn’t that… I don’t know, melt us?”
Blip, lounging near the control console, glanced up with an audible sigh. “Well, it’s not exactly spa weather, but thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious.”
“No, seriously!” Zog said, turning to face him. “Our circuits aren’t built for those temperatures. We’ll overheat, or fry, or—or melt into puddles of scrap metal!”
IND-E’s voice crackled to life, its tone as flat as ever. “Correction: you’ll melt. Blip has a heat-resistant alloy coating. He might survive long enough to enjoy watching you turn into a puddle.”
Blip’s mechanical tail gave a faint wag. “Finally, some good news.”
Zog groaned, clutching the sides of his head. “Why would they send us to a place we can’t even survive on? What’s the point of this mission if we get cooked alive the second we step outside?”
The screen flickered, and SPAZE’s cheery voice interrupted with an unhelpfully optimistic announcement:
“Orbor-7 offers breathtaking salt flats and unique cultural experiences! Please ensure your thermal systems are in optimal condition before venturing outdoors.”
“Thermal systems?” Zog echoed, glancing around the cockpit. “Do we even have thermal systems?”
Blip tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing. “Let me check.” He reached out to a nearby console, tapping a panel with calculated precision. A moment later, a diagnostic screen displayed a list of ship features.
THERMAL SYSTEMS: NOT INSTALLED.
EXTERNAL COOLANT MODULE: DISCONNECTED.
PASSENGER HEAT RESISTANCE: LOW.
Blip whistled. “Wow. We’re about as prepared as a snowball in a plasma storm.”
IND-E chimed in with mock sympathy. “To be fair, no one expected you to make it this far.”
Zog slumped back into his chair, his mind racing with the sheer absurdity of their situation. “So… we can’t leave the ship?”
“Oh, you can leave,” IND-E said. “I just wouldn’t recommend staying outside for longer than thirty seconds. Unless, of course, you enjoy the sensation of becoming molten.”
Blip turned to Zog with a faint smirk. “Look on the bright side. At least you’ll get a chance to test how flame-retardant your towel is.”
Zog shot him a glare. “That’s not helping.”
“Neither is panicking,” Blip replied. “But here we are.”