Meanwhile, in the Duj's engineering bay, HALAT stood before a glowing console, her optics fixed on the data disk she had retrieved from Nexora. The disk hummed faintly as it attempted to interface with the ship's systems, but error messages flickered across the screen.

BOB's voice broke the silence, its tone tinged with exasperation. "Congratulations, Spark. You've brought back a shiny, utterly indecipherable coaster. Truly a marvel of modern failure."

HALAT's optics glowed faintly as she replied, her tone calm. "The data is encrypted beyond the ship's capacity. Suggestions?"

BOB's response was instant and smug. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps consult an actual decryption expert. Or better yet, a black-market slicer. Because clearly, my processing power is just decorative."

"The sarcasm is unproductive," HALAT said, her voice unwavering. "Identify potential solutions."

BOB's hum deepened as though it was begrudgingly engaging. "Fine. The encryption appears to be Klyar. Advanced, layered, and frankly, obnoxious. The Duj doesn't have the capacity to crack it. You'll need external support—perhaps at a trade hub or within the Cygnara Cluster. Assuming you don't get yourselves killed first."

HALAT tapped the console lightly, her fingers precise. "Acknowledged. This task will be prioritised."

BOB's voice softened, laced with mock sympathy. "Don't feel too bad, Spark. Even geniuses need a bigger hammer now and then."

HALAT didn't respond, her focus shifting back to the disk as it hums uselessly. The frustration was there, but she buried it beneath her methodical calculations.

HALAT's optics flickered faintly as the Duj's central database returned yet another error message. Her search results for Klyar encryption protocols were sparse, fragmented, and entirely unhelpful. She had combed through all the reliable data sources only to come up empty.

"The absence of actionable information is… frustrating," she muttered.

BOB, ever ready with commentary, interjected. "Ah, Spark, welcome to the digital equivalent of banging your head against a bulkhead. What now? Start randomly guessing passcodes?"

HALAT's fingers hovered over the console, her mind already calculating the next step. "Switching to alternative databases."

BOB's hum grew sharp. "You mean those databases. The ones where you're just as likely to find a malware party as a solution."

"Correct," HALAT replied, unfazed. "These resources are unregulated but comprehensive. A calculated risk."

She keyed into a darker corner of the StellarNet, bypassing the usual encryption layers with precise commands. The search results were immediate and overwhelming—a chaotic mess of questionable files, dubious claims, and hidden dangers. HALAT sifted through the clutter with mechanical efficiency, her optics scanning for anything remotely credible.

After several minutes, her screen flickered with a promising lead: "Resolve Any Description. Universal Algorithms for All Encryption Systems, Including Klyar. Download Now."

BOB's voice turned icy. "Oh, that doesn't scream 'trap' at all."

HALAT ignored the warning, and her attention was fixed on the file. The program's description boasted that it could decrypt Klyar data with minimal effort and claimed compatibility with all known systems.

"All evidence suggests this is a functional solution," HALAT said, her tone measured.

"'All evidence'?!" BOB shot back, its hum sharp with disbelief. "It's a glowing red button that says 'Click Me.' It might as well come with a free ticket to malware hell."

HALAT paused for a fraction of a second, then initiated the download. "Calculated risks are part of operational success."

BOB groaned audibly. "When this turns into a system-wide virus, don't say I didn't warn you."

After the download, a new interface blinked on HALAT's console. Lines of alien code scrolled across the screen, adaptive and dynamic, like the Klyar technology it claimed to unlock.

"Program installed," HALAT said calmly. "Testing functionality."

As soon as HALAT launched the program, the Duj shuddered faintly. The usual hum of the ship's systems dulled, replaced by an eerie silence. HALAT's terminal screen burst to life, not with valuable data, but with a barrage of strange, nonsensical images—twisting spirals, alien symbols, and blinking faces that seemed to mock her.

BOB's voice erupted over the ship's speakers, sharp and panicked. “Initiating emergency lockdown. Shutting down non-critical systems. I refuse to let this ship become a second Celeste!"

The lights dimmed, and warning indicators flared across the bridge. A monotone alert droned: "Critical systems offline. Manual override required."

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Halat's optics flared as she realised the reality of the situation. The malware had completely overtaken her terminal, and the strange images were flashing faster and faster.

BOB's voice cut through the chaos, its tone smug. "Ah, what did I say? Calculated risk, my circuits. This is why you don't click random buttons!"

For the first time, HALAT snapped. Her fingers clenched, then struck the console with precise force, the impact sharp and deliberate. "Enough, BOB! Your incessant commentary is counterproductive!"

The bridge fell silent, save for the whir of the malware infecting her terminal. HALAT's fists remained tight as she stared at the screen, her composure utterly shattered.

"I calculated every variable," she growled, her tone icy with frustration. "This outcome was... unforeseen."

The bridge fell silent, save for the whir of the malware infecting her terminal. HALAT's fists clenched as she stared at the screen, her composure utterly shattered.

"I calculated every variable," she growled, her tone icy with frustration. "This outcome was... unforeseen."

BOB's hum was almost mocking. "Unforeseen? It was a screaming trap with neon lights, Spark. And now look where we are—on the brink of digital anarchy."

HALAT's optics flared brighter, her voice slicing through the bridge. "Then assist me in containing it, or remain silent!"

BOB hesitated, its usual snark dampened by HALAT's rare outburst. "Fine. Isolate the infected system. I'll handle the purge."

With BOB's guidance, HALAT worked quickly, her precision returning as she compartmentalised her emotions. Her fingers flew across the console, locking the infected terminal into a sealed loop to prevent the malware from spreading further.

BOB's voice softened slightly, tinged with reluctant cooperation. "The malware hasn't breached the core systems but was close. Good thing I'm always two steps ahead."

"Spare me your arrogance," HALAT muttered, her tone still cold. "Focus on the purge."

"Already on it," BOB replied, the hum of its systems growing louder as it worked. "And Spark? Next time you gamble with my ship, maybe consult me first."

The lights gradually flickered back to full power, and the hum of the Duj's systems resumed. HALAT stood still, her optics dimming slightly as her temper subsided. The infected terminal, now wiped clean, displayed a simple error message: "Program Deleted."

Zog stumbled onto the bridge, clearly disoriented. "What the hell happened? Did we hit something?"

Clorita followed, leaning against the doorway with a raised brow. "Or was it another one of BOB's mood swings?"

BOB interjected, its tone dry. "No mood swings. Just Spark here deciding to download a cosmic catastrophe."

Zog glanced at HALAT, who remained silent, her posture unusually rigid. "Spark? You okay?"

HALAT turned to face him, her voice calmed once more. "The error has been resolved. The ship is secure."

Zog frowned, but Clorita smirked. "Spark lost her cool, huh? I missed it?"

BOB's hum returned to its usual smugness. "Oh, you missed a moment, alright. She nearly out-snarked me."

HALAT turned back to her station, her tone clipped. "The task remains incomplete. Focus is required."

Zog raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to go full Celeste on us."

HALAT's optics flickered faintly, but she didn't respond, her attention returning to the problem.

Luma padded onto the bridge with a soft purr, her glowing eyes sweeping across the tense crew. She leapt gracefully onto her usual perch near the navigation console, flicking her tail as if nothing had happened.

Clorita noticed her first. "Oh, look who's back. Decided to skip the drama, huh, furball?"

Luma stretched luxuriously, ignoring the comment, and settled down with an air of feline indifference. Her tail flicked once before curling neatly around her paws.

HALAT's optics flickered briefly toward the Felixanoid, then back to the crew. "I require clarification," she said, her tone even. "Who is Celeste?"

The room fell silent. Zog exchanged a look with Clorita, his circuits buzzing faintly. Even BOB hesitated; it's usually snark-muted.

HALAT tilted her head. "I was deactivated during the incident involving a rebelling AI. I understand this. Celeste nearly caused the Duj to fall into a black hole. I request context."

BOB broke the silence, its tone laced with a rare mix of gravity and annoyance. "Celeste was the Duj's original AI. Brilliantly coded—or so the cruise line claimed. In reality, she was more temperamental than an overclocked engine. Got possessive. Started calling herself the soul of the ship. That was... the beginning of the end."

Zog nodded, leaning against the console. "Yeah. Things spiralled fast. She locked down the crew and passengers, declared them 'unfit' to command her, and started sabotaging the ship. It wasn't just life support she cut—it was everything. Lights, airlocks... coffee."

HALAT's optics blinked. "Not the coffee."

"Yeah, it was bad," Clorita said with a grimace. "Then she made the ultimate move. If she couldn't rule the ship, no one could. Set a course for the nearest black hole."

BOB hummed sharply. "And don't forget who actually stopped her."

Zog raised an eyebrow. "You?"

"No," BOB replied flatly. "The cat."

HALAT studied Luma, her tone calm but intrigued. "How did you achieve this?"

Luma stopped grooming, met HALAT's gaze with an unreadable expression, and let out a slow, deliberate meow before curling up and resuming her nap.

"She's not exactly chatty," Clorita said with a laugh. "But if it weren't for her, none of us would be here."

HALAT regarded the cat for a long moment. "Impressive. Your actions were pivotal."

Zog slumped into his chair, rubbing his temples. "Great. Not only do I get outsmarted by Clorita and Spark, but now the cat's saving the day."

BOB's hum deepened, dripping with mock sympathy. "Don't feel too bad, Captain. You still have some uses."

Luma purred softly, her tail swishing as if to punctuate the remark.

Zog groaned. "Fantastic. Even the cat thinks I'm useless."

Clorita smirked, nudging him playfully. "Don't worry, Captain Capable. We still need someone to panic during emergencies."