As Clorita added the prototype weapon to her growing list of “keepers,” Zog leaned against the wall, muttering under his breath.
“This ship is turning into a floating armoury,” he grumbled. “We’re supposed to be explorers, not bounty hunters.”
Clorita turned to him, her expression softening slightly. “Relax, Zog. We’re just being prepared. You never know when something like this might save our lives.”
“Or end them,” Zog replied, shaking his head. “Fine. But if that thing explodes, it’s on you.”
The trek back to the bridge was slow, mainly because Zog had to stop every few minutes to grumble about how much firepower Clorita had admired in the weapons section.
“I’m just saying,” Zog muttered, gesturing emphatically. “Nobody needs a gun that can vaporise a moon. Nobody!”
“Speak for yourself, Captain,” Clorita said with a smirk, barely suppressing a laugh. “It was a plasma destabiliser, not a moon-vaporizer. Totally different.”
“Different, how?” Zog asked, exasperated.
Clorita grinned but didn’t answer. As they turned a corner, her attention was caught by a large, sleek case in the shadow of an overhead light. It was the mannequin—the same one they’d found earlier, still as silent and eerie as before.
Clorita paused mid-step, tilting her head. “You know, I’ve been wondering about this thing.”
Zog groaned. “No, Clorita. No. Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”
But Clorita was already stepping closer, her eyes narrowing at the faint emblem etched into the mannequin’s chestplate: HALAT-17.
“HALAT,” she muttered, running her fingers over the letters. “Huh. Never seen a bot like this before.”
“That’s because it is supposed to stay in the box,” Zog said, backing away cautiously. “Let’s just leave it there.”
“Relax,” Clorita said, crouching down to inspect the mannequin. “It’s probably a display bot—a fashion model or something. How dangerous could it be?”
“I can think of a hundred ways,” Zog replied. “Starting with ‘giant creepy mannequin.’”
Clorita ignored him, brushing dust off the mannequin’s neck. There, barely visible, was a small, recessed switch with a faint label next to it: ON/OFF.
“See?” she said, glancing back at Zog. “Just a harmless bot.”
“That’s what you said about the auto-cleaner that tried to weld my shoes to the deck,” Zog said.
Clorita flipped the switch without another word. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a soft buzz, the mannequin’s eyes lit up, glowing an intense purple. Its joints shifted slightly, the metallic limbs moving with an unsettling fluidity.
“Initializing...” the bot’s voice said, smooth and melodic.
Zog took another step back. “Clorita, what did you do?”
“Relax,” Clorita said, grinning. “It’s just booting up. Look at it—harmless.”
The mannequin straightened, its gaze locking onto Clorita’s with unnerving precision. For a moment, the room was silent.
Then, the mannequin spoke in a voice rich with warmth and affection.
“Hello, Mom.”
Clorita froze, her smirk vanishing. “Mom?”
The bot nodded gracefully, effortlessly stepping out of the box. “Yes, Mother. You activated me. I am HALAT-17, and you are my creator.”
“I’m... what?” Clorita said, blinking rapidly. “No, no, no. I just flipped a switch.”
“Exactly,” HALAT replied, her voice carrying an almost reverent tone. “You gave me life. Therefore, you are my mother.”
Zog’s jaw dropped. “Clorita, what have you done?”
Clorita ignored him, holding up a hand. “Wait. HALAT, are you a display bot?”
HALAT tilted her head, her glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “Display? Mother, I am a Guardian Android—Hot Android Lethal at Times. Designation H-17.”
Clorita blinked. “Hot Android Lethal at... Times?”
HALAT nodded. “It is an accurate description.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Zog groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I knew it. I knew it was going to be something dangerous.”
HALAT ignored him, her gaze never leaving Clorita. “What are your orders, Mother?”
Clorita opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Uh... I’m going to need a minute.”
As Clorita tried to process what she’d just activated, Zog was pacing in a circle, starting to panic, muttering frantically.
“This is bad. This is really bad. We’re going to die. The ship’s going to explode. That thing is going to rip us apart—”
“Zog!” Clorita snapped, cutting him off. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?!” Zog said, pointing at HALAT. “It called you Mom! You’ve created a killer mannequin daughter!”
“She’s not a killer,” Clorita said, turning to HALAT. “You’re not a killer, right?”
HALAT smiled faintly. “Only when necessary.”
“See?” Clorita said, patting Zog on the shoulder. “Totally fine.”
“Totally fine?!” Zog shouted. “It has lethal in its name!”
Clorita turned back to HALAT, her expression softening. “Okay, HALAT. The first order of business is no killing unless I specifically tell you to.”
HALAT inclined her head. “Understood, Mother.”
“And stop calling me Mother,” Clorita added quickly. “It’s weird.”
“What shall I call you, then?” HALAT asked.
Clorita hesitated, then shrugged. “Clorita. Or whatever you want. Just not Mom.”
HALAT seemed to consider this, then nodded. “As you wish, Clorita.”
“Great,” Clorita said, clapping her hands together. “Now, let’s get you to the bridge and see what else you can do.”
Zog stepped behind them as they started walking, still muttering under his breath. “This is a bad idea. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Relax, Captain,” Clorita said with a grin. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Behind her, HALAT’s glowing eyes flickered, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.
The journey to the bridge was tense but uneventful. HALAT followed Clorita and Zog in smooth, deliberate strides, her glowing purple eyes scanning every detail of her surroundings. Zog occasionally glanced nervously over his shoulder, half expecting HALAT to pounce on him at any moment. Clorita, on the other hand, walked calmly, though her occasional sidelong glances revealed that even she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d activated.
As the doors to the bridge slid open, BOB’s smooth voice chimed in.
“Welcome back, Clorita, Captain Zog. I trust your little adventure into the ship's depths was enlightening?”
Clorita strode in, gesturing to HALAT. “BOB, meet HALAT. She’s the newest addition to the crew.”
BOB’s voice sharpened slightly, its usual coolness tinged with suspicion. “Ah, I see. Another AI. How quaint.”
HALAT stepped forward, her eyes flickering as she seemed to analyse the room. “And you must be the ship’s artificial intelligence. I’ve reviewed your operational logs. Efficient, though your processing power is limited.”
BOB’s tone turned frostier. “Limited? My dear HALAT, I am the central nervous system of this vessel. Without me, it would drift aimlessly through space.”
HALAT tilted her head. “Interesting. A self-congratulatory program. Mother, does it always talk this much?”
Clorita raised a hand, trying to suppress a laugh. “Okay, both of you, play nice. BOB, HALAT is part of the crew now. HALAT, BOB’s been keeping this ship running since we found it. Try not to hurt its feelings.”
“I don’t have feelings,” BOB replied curtly. “But I do have standards.”
As the tension between BOB and HALAT simmered, Luma stretched lazily from her perch on the captain’s console. She leapt down gracefully and padded over to HALAT, tail flicking.
HALAT knelt, her movements impossibly smooth, and extended a hand toward Luma. The two regarded each other for a long moment. Then, in a surprising gesture of approval, Luma butted her head gently against HALAT’s hand.
Clorita raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s unexpected. Luma doesn’t usually warm up to anyone that fast.”
HALAT’s voice softened slightly. “She recognises worthiness.”
Zog muttered from the corner, “Or she’s plotting to steal your circuits.”
HALAT glanced at him, her glowing eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Captain, your humour is noted, as is your nervousness. I assure you, I mean no harm.”
As the introductions wound down, HALAT turned her attention back to Clorita, her tone suddenly lighter.
“Mother, I must commend your choice of companions. A charming feline, a diligent but antiquated AI, and...” She paused, glancing at Zog. “...a Captain who could use some polish.”
Clorita groaned. “HALAT, for the last time, stop calling me Mother.”
“I cannot,” HALAT replied matter-of-factly. “You activated me. You are, in essence, my creator. Therefore, you are my Mother. It is logical.”
Zog snorted. “Oh great. She’s logical.”
Clorita pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But if you keep this up, I will call you Pumpkin.”
HALAT tilted her head. “Pumpkin. An Earth term denoting affection. I find it acceptable.”
Clorita sighed. “I was kidding.”
As Clorita tried to return the conversation to the ship’s current state, HALAT turned her attention to Zog again.
“Mother,” HALAT began, her tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial, “have you considered the benefits of forming a partnership with the Captain?”
Clorita blinked. “What?”
Zog choked. “What?!”
HALAT folded her arms gracefully, tilting her head. “It would be logical. You are both highly competent individuals with complementary skill sets. A union would stabilise crew dynamics and ensure the continuation of—”
“HALAT, stop,” Clorita interrupted, her face flushed. “You’ve been awake for five minutes and already matchmaking?”
HALAT shrugged. “It is a natural progression. I have a Mother, but no Father. It is an oversight I intend to correct.”
BOB, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally interjected. “Captain, may I suggest an urgent system diagnostic to verify this android’s sanity?”