Despite Clorita’s vehement protests, Zog hesitated only briefly before transferring their lone credit to the StarSpin 3000 account. The game’s interface erupted in a kaleidoscope of sound and animation, bombarding them with promises of unimaginable riches.
The StarSpin screen yelled in bright, flashing colours, “Welcome, lucky player! Place your bet and prepare for galactic glory!”
Zog grimaced, his finger hovering uncertainly over the controls. “IND-E, what’s the plan?”
IND-E’s voice brimmed with smug confidence. “Simple. StarSpin 3000 operates on a randomized probability matrix. I’ve analyzed its patterns and identified optimal intervals for betting. Just follow my instructions, and we’ll outwit the algorithm.”
Blip’s tail wagged furiously. “I like the sound of this! Let’s go!”
Zog swallowed hard and reluctantly placed their precious credit on the number 42, per IND-E’s precise calculations. He hit the spin button, and the wheel whirred to life, accompanied by blaring music and flashing lights.
“Come on,” Zog muttered under his breath. “Come on…”
The wheel slowed, its numbers ticking by with torturous precision. Time seemed to stretch as the pointer crept closer to 42—then stopped just one slot away.
The screen’s triumphant tone turned sheepish. “Ooh, so close! Better luck next time!”
The display faded to black, leaving the cockpit in an uncomfortable silence.
Blip tilted his head. “Sooo… we’re broke again?”
IND-E’s voice faltered, the usual bravado replaced with uncertainty. “It appears the algorithm has… evolved.”
Clorita threw her hands into the air. “Evolved? Your so-called ‘system’ didn’t work at all!”
“Correction,” IND-E replied stiffly. “It almost worked.”
“Almost,” Zog muttered darkly. “Fantastic. Now what?”
Before anyone could wallow in despair, the StarSpin 3000 screen burst back to life, bathing the cockpit in glowing animations.
In oversized letters, it proclaimed, “Congratulations, valued player! You’ve unlocked a bonus spin! No credits required.”
Blip’s ears perked up. “Bonus spin? Let’s do it!”
Clorita frowned, crossing her arms. “This is a trap. It’s how they hook you into losing more credits. Don’t—”
Zog ignored her, slamming the spin button before she could finish. The wheel spun again, lights flashing in a dizzying spectacle. The pointer slowed, clicking steadily past the numbers, until it landed squarely on 42.
The screen erupted in a dazzling celebration of confetti and victorious fanfare. “Jackpot! You’ve won 10,000 Galactic Credits!”
Blip let out an excited howl, spinning in delighted circles. “We’re rich! I’m buying so many bones!”
Clorita rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Beginner’s luck. That’s all.”
IND-E, on the other hand, sounded positively triumphant. “Or perhaps… my system wasn’t flawed after all.”
Zog leaned back, watching the credits roll in. “Let’s just take the win before anything else evolves.”
With their newfound wealth, the crew set a course for Nebula Market-12, and their spirits lifted—though Clorita remained sceptical.
“This is just the beginning,” Zog said, grinning. “We’ve got credits, fuel, and a galaxy of possibilities.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Blip wagged his tail. “And a mutt who deserves a treat.”
Clorita smirked. “Let’s see if you can hold onto those credits before you start shopping.”
As the celebration settled, Zog leaned back in his chair, staring at the glowing credit total on the screen: 10,000 Credits.
“Ten thousand credits,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we actually won.”
Blip wagged his tail furiously. “All thanks to good ol’ number 42. I told you we had this in the bag!”
Clorita snorted. “You didn’t tell us anything. IND-E made the call, and even that was pure luck.”
IND-E’s voice crackled with smugness. “Luck, Clorita? Or calculated genius?”
“Whatever it was,” Zog said, cutting them off, “we’ve got credits now, and we’re heading to Nebula Market-12. SPAZE, plot a course.”
“With pleasure, Captain Zog! Setting a hyperdrive route now. Estimated travel time: 2 hours and 42 minutes.” SPAZE replied.
The crew froze.
“Did you just say 42 minutes?” Zog asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. Correct! Why is that significant?” the overly helpful navigation system asked.
Blip tilted his head. “I’m starting to think this number might mean something.”
The Indifference groaned as it settled into its docking bay, the ship clearly relieved to take a break from its haphazard existence. Outside, Nebula Market-12 stretched in all directions, a glowing sprawl of intergalactic commerce. Stalls and ships hovered in mid-air, connected by flickering bridges, while alien traders hawked their wares in dozens of languages. The swirling colours of the surrounding nebula cast everything in a surreal, kaleidoscopic light.
As the crew disembarked, they were immediately overwhelmed by the noise and chaos.
Blip sniffed the air, his tail wagging furiously. “I smell food. And… oh! That’s definitely a bone stand!”
Zog grabbed his collar, steering him back. “Focus. We’ve got credits to spend and a ship to fix.”
Clorita rolled her eyes as she activated the CredEx, a sleek, handheld device with a glowing display showing their balance: 10,000 Credits.
“We need to make every one of these credits count,” she said, her tone sharp. “And I’m keeping this. No offence, Zog, but I don’t trust you not to ‘accidentally’ spend half of it on something ridiculous.”
Blip perked up. “Can I at least get snacks?”
Clorita ignored him, tucking the CredEx securely into a compartment on her metallic arm. “Let’s split up and regroup in two hours. I’ll handle the parts we actually need for the ship. Zog, try not to buy junk.”
Clorita’s sharp eyes scanned the bustling marketplace, zeroing in on a stall piled high with suspiciously dented ship components. A wiry alien with four spindly arms and a grin wider than it had any right to be leaned forward eagerly, his antennae twitching.
“Ah, welcome!” he crooned, gesturing with all four hands. “I can see you’re a connoisseur of fine starship parts. Behold—this power converter! Genuine Trivallaxian craftsmanship is only slightly irradiated and has a personality all its own.”
Clorita picked up the component, giving it a critical once-over. A faint hum emanated from within, accompanied by an unsettling flicker of light. “It’s cracked,” she said flatly, running a finger along a jagged line on its casing. “I’ll give you 300 credits.”
The vendor’s grin faltered, and his pale green complexion nearly turned white. “Three hundred? Are you trying to starve my broodlings? This is worth at least 1,200 credits—practically a steal!”
Clorita raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “1,200 for a part that looks like it’s been through an asteroid belt and back? Come on. I’m doing you a favour even considering it.”
The vendor flailed dramatically with all four arms. “A favour? You wound me, merciless humanoid! I have broodlings to feed and—”
“300,” Clorita cut in, her tone final. “Take it, or I’ll find someone else to sell me junk at a fair price.”
After a moment of sputtering and what sounded like alien curses under his breath, the vendor relented, grumbling as he handed over the converter. “Fine! Take it and leave my dignity in ruins.”
Clorita smirked, tossing the credits onto his counter. “Pleasure doing business.”
Meanwhile, Zog wandered toward a stall glowing with holographic displays of star charts, each one floating serenely in midair. Rows of shimmering galaxies and star systems rotated lazily, and the vendor, a portly alien with a slicked-back crest, beamed at him with practised enthusiasm.
“Ah, Captain! You look like a man needing reliable navigation,” the vendor said, pulling a glowing cylinder from behind the counter. “Might I suggest the GalaxyPro 4200? State-of-the-art in its day! Durable, user-friendly, and it even comes with a complimentary star system update!”
Zog picked it up, eyeing the cylindrical device sceptically. “And by ‘state-of-the-art,’ you mean…?”
“Only fifteen years old!” the vendor declared, his smile widening as though this was a selling point. “And still going strong! Perfect for captains on a budget.”
Zog frowned, poking at a faded control panel on the device. “Fifteen years? Isn’t that practically ancient for navigation tech?”
The vendor waved dismissively. “Nonsense! It’s as reliable as the stars themselves. And at only 800 credits, it’s a bargain.”
Zog hesitated, glancing at the other charts displayed around him. “Do you have anything newer?”
The vendor’s grin turned wry. “For 800 credits? Unless you’re in the market for holographic paperweights, this is as good as it gets.”
With a heavy sigh and visions of uncharted anomalies flashing in his head, Zog handed over the credits. “Fine. But if this thing gets me lost in a black hole, I’m coming back.”
“Deal!” the vendor said cheerfully, swiping the credits before Zog could change his mind. “And remember, Captain: adventure favours the bold!”
Zog grumbled under his breath, clutching the GalaxyPro 4200. “I’d settle for not crashing into a star.”