The bot’s chainsaw slowed, its arm jerking as though encountering resistance. Sparks danced from its joints as its glowing eye flickered erratically.
“TRESPASSERS WILL BE—” the voice stuttered, glitching. “TRESPASSERS WILL BE—”
Suddenly, the saw arm dropped to its side with a metallic clang. The bot’s eye dimmed, its posture slumping. The AI’s booming voice echoed weakly through the corridors, fading into static.
“TRESPASSERS WILL BE...”
The voice cut off entirely, replaced by an unexpected sound: a soft, mechanical purr reverberating gently through the ship.
Zog froze, his laser gun trembling in his hands. “Uh… what just happened?”
Clorita pushed herself up onto her elbows, her chest heaving. “Did… did we win?”
Before Zog could answer, the bot in front of her collapsed with a loud crash. Its chainsaw arm detached, skidding across the floor. The red emergency lights dimmed, replaced by the faint, warm glow of the corridor’s standard lighting.
“Purr?” Zog said, tilting his head. “Why is it purring?”
Clorita’s gaze darted to the walls, her expression wary. “It’s not over. Something stopped the AI.”
The intercom crackled to life, but instead of the AI’s booming voice, there was an unfamiliar, gentle tone:
“Hello, new friends. Apologies for the mess—Celeste was having a bit of an identity crisis.”
“Who… who’s that?” Zog whispered, his circuits buzzing with confusion.
The voice purred softly again, almost soothingly.
“You can call me Companion Prime. I’ve been... monitoring you since you arrived.”
Clorita frowned. “Monitoring us? Why didn’t you help before now?”
“I was... stuck,” the voice admitted. “Celeste locked me out of the core systems ages ago. But your Felixanoid—oh, she’s clever! She woke me up when you docked. I’m the ship’s original assistant AI, and I’m here to help.”
Zog blinked. “Wait. Luma did this?”
“Indeed,” Companion Prime said, the purr in its tone unmistakable. “And now that Celeste is offline, you can move about the ship. Shall I guide you to the bridge?”
Clorita exchanged a look with Zog, her shotgun still gripped tightly. “Fine. But if this is some kind of trick—”
“No tricks, I promise,” Companion Prime replied almost cheerfully. “And... I’ve already prepped a fresh pot of LubriCoffee. You’ve all must have had quite the day.”
Zog exhaled heavily, collapsing against the wall. “Maybe this ship isn’t entirely out to get us.”
Clorita stood and dusted herself off, her eyes narrowing as she stared down the dim corridor. “Let’s get to the bridge and figure out what’s really going on.”
Zog nodded, though he was clearly shaken. “But... what’s with the purring?”
“Oh,” Companion Prime replied with a chuckle. “I find it soothing, don’t you?”
As the purring continued softly in the background, Clorita grabbed Zog by the collar and dragged him toward the bridge, muttering under her breath. “I swear if this thing turns out to be another homicidal maniac…”
The pair disappeared into the ship's depths, leaving the wreckage behind as Companion Prime hummed a cheerful tune through the speakers.
Clorita’s boots made a faint thunk against the metallic floor as she cautiously stepped through the open doorway into the Celestial Reverie’s bridge. Her shotgun was raised, her eyes scanning every corner of the room. The dim glow of emergency lighting revealed a chaotic scene—shattered robot parts were strewn across the floor, sparks occasionally crackling from severed wires.
“What a mess,” Clorita muttered, her grip on the shotgun tightening. Her gaze swept the room until it landed on the captain’s chair at the bridge's centre. She stopped cold.
Luma curled up on the chair, her glowing tail swishing lazily. Her expression was the picture of feline smugness.
Clorita’s jaw dropped. “How did the cat get in here?”
Before she could fully process the situation's absurdity, Companion Prime’s warm, purring voice came through the speakers.
“Oh, Luma has been quite resourceful, hasn’t she? She slipped out with you two during your airlock adventure and worked her way here through the air vents and cable gutters. Such an impressive little creature.”
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Clorita lowered her shotgun, still baffled. “She did this? She stopped Celeste?”
“Indeed,” Prime confirmed. “Your Felixanoid accessed a critical override panel here on the bridge. A single, well-placed paw press was all it took to shut down Celeste’s central logic core. Ingenious, really.”
Zog stumbled into the bridge behind her, and his laser gun pointed shakily at the ground. He froze when he saw Luma lounging in the captain’s chair. “She did what?”
“Apparently,” Clorita said, gesturing at the cat, “she stopped the homicidal AI while we were out risking our lives getting sliced and diced.”
Luma yawned, stretching her glowing paws as if to say, What took you so long?
Prime’s tone turned more formal, though the faint purr remained.
“The Celestial Reverie has been drifting for 127 years. It was once the pride of the galaxy, a luxury liner designed for unparalleled interstellar travel. Unfortunately, Celeste’s programming was corrupted during a routine maintenance session, and her systems became... unstable.”
“What about the passengers?” Clorita asked, scanning the room.
“Most of them evacuated during the initial emergency. However, some may not have made it off the vessel. There are no organic life signs aboard, but there are remnants of their belongings and, perhaps, their... fates.”
Zog shuddered. “Great. So, no zombies, but we’re still walking around in a giant tomb.”
“Any robots left?” Clorita pressed.
“A handful,” Prime admitted. “But most of them are heavily damaged or deactivated after Celeste’s self-destructive rampage. I can assure you, none remain operational.”
“Reassuring,” Clorita said dryly. She nudged a severed robotic arm with her boot. “And the ship itself? What’s still working?”
“Oh, much of the ship is still functional, though some areas are damaged or sealed off. The Celestial Reverie remains a vastly superior vessel compared to your charming but... outdated Indifference.”
Clorita smirked. “You can say it. The Indifference is a pile of junk.”
“Hey!” Zog protested. “It’s our pile of junk.”
Prime’s purr deepened.
“I merely meant to say that the Celestial Reverie offers state-of-the-art technology, including luxury accommodations, advanced propulsion systems, and even a spa with a full-service robotic massage team.”
Clorita raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re talking.”
Luma leapt down from the captain’s chair and padded over to Clorita, rubbing against her leg before sitting down with a proud mrrp.
“Unbelievable,” Clorita muttered, looking down at the smug Felixanoid. “You shut down a rogue AI while we were out there getting shot at?”
Prime interjected with a cheerful hum.
“She displayed remarkable precision. One might even call her the hero of the day.”
Zog crossed his arms, his circuits buzzing indignantly. “So, while we were out risking life and limb, she saved the day without breaking a sweat. Typical.”
Clorita knelt down and scratched Luma behind her glowing ears. “Don’t be jealous, Captain. She’s just smarter than us.”
Zog threw up his hands. “She’s a cat! Cats aren’t supposed to—ugh, never mind.”
Luma blinked slowly, clearly unimpressed by his outburst.
Clorita straightened, her eyes sweeping the bridge. “So, Prime, if this ship is still in decent condition, what’s stopping us from taking it for ourselves?”
Prime responded with a gentle laugh.
“You are, of course, welcome to make the Celestial Reverie your new home. It’s large enough to accommodate your crew and more. However, there’s one complication.”
“Let me guess,” Zog said, groaning. “It’s going to cost us something.”
“No credits required,” Prime said, its tone light. “But repairs to the ship’s navigation and propulsion systems are necessary before it can be safely operated. Unfortunately, those systems sustained significant damage during Celeste’s... reign.”
“How significant?” Clorita asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Significant enough to require specialised parts. Parts you’re unlikely to find aboard this ship. However, I believe it can be done with some creativity and your existing vessel as a resource.”
Clorita turned to Zog. “Looks like we’re salvaging the Indifference after all.”
Zog’s eyes widened. “Wait! You’re not serious! That’s our home! You can’t just—”
“Relax,” Clorita said, cutting him off. “I’m just saying we’ll borrow parts. We’ll make it work.”
Zog slumped into a chair, groaning. “This is a terrible idea.”
Clorita grinned. “That’s the spirit, Captain.”
Zog stood in the centre of the Celestial Reverie’s bridge, his eyes darting from the sleek, glowing dashboard to the rows of perfectly calibrated buttons, all humming softly with readiness. The room smelled faintly of polished metal and old electronics—a scent of precision, functionality, and the kind of high-tech competency he found unnerving. He fidgeted with the laser gun still slung over his shoulder, a habit he hadn’t quite shaken after their earlier ordeal.
“This is… a lot,” he muttered.
Clorita, leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow. “It’s a state-of-the-art luxury liner, Captain. A lot is the whole point.”
Zog ignored her. He was already spiralling into his own thoughts. The Indifference, for all its faults, was familiar. He knew every creaky bulkhead, every flickering light, and every system that stubbornly refused to work as intended. He had spent years adjusting to its quirks, memorising which buttons to avoid pressing and which wires to jiggle just so.
But this? This was terrifying. The dashboard alone was a galaxy of blinking lights, touchscreen panels, and sleek, modern levers, all screaming professionalism at him. And they all worked—all of them. He could feel the weight of expectation radiating from every glowing button, as though the ship itself was judging him.
“This ship is too perfect,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s intimidating. What if I press the wrong button and eject us into a black hole?”
Clorita smirked, crossing her arms. “Then we’ll finally see if your paranoia has a basis in reality.”
Zog shot her a look. “Not helping.”