The warm aroma of freshly brewed Lubricoffee filled the room as BOB’s soothing voice chimed in. “Captain, your beverage is ready. Perhaps it will stimulate the cognitive functions necessary for reading your er, manual.”
A tiny robotic arm extended from the service console, holding a perfectly filled mug. Zog took it without looking, sipping absentmindedly as he continued staring at the manual. He immediately winced and coughed, nearly spilling the drink. “BOB! This is molten!”
“My apologies, Captain,” BOB replied, its tone unapologetic. “I was merely following the manual’s recommendation for optimal serving temperature. Would you like an ice cube?”
“I’d like a working cooling system!” Zog snapped, setting the mug down carefully.
For a brief moment, the crew lapsed into comfortable silence. Clorita finished oiling her joints and leaned back with a sigh, idly watching HALAT’s progress. Zog finally gave up on the manual and tossed it aside, letting his head rest against the back of the chair.
HALAT’s voice broke the silence. “Captain, are we remaining in orbit indefinitely?”
Zog groaned. “Give me a minute. I’m still recovering from our little excursion.”
“Take all the time you need,” Clorita said, closing her eyes. “I could use the break.”
“I do recommend deciding soon,” BOB interjected, its tone as smooth as ever. “The stars aren’t going to wait, and neither is adventure.”
Clorita smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, BOB. Adventure has a way of finding us.”
Zog sighed, reaching for his Lubricoffee again. “Yeah, and it always gets us into trouble.”
As the Duj drifted silently above the planet, the crew sat together, recharging in more ways than one. Whatever came next, they knew they’d face it head-on—though none of them could predict just how soon “next” would arrive.
Even Zog's patience wore thin after what felt like an eternity in orbit. He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his captain’s chair, glancing at the star map glowing faintly on the central console.
“Alright,” he muttered to himself, leaning forward. “Let’s find something... not too far. Nothing crazy. Just calm.”
He scanned the map, eyes narrowing at a small dot labelled Stoix-17. The planet’s description read: Minimal hazard levels, suitable climate, and culturally rich spa facilities. Zog perked up. “A spa planet? That’s more like it.”
Not wanting to wake SPAZE—who had been irritatingly chirpy the last few times—Zog decided to handle this on his own. He scribbled the coordinates on a scrap of paper before punching them into the navigation console.
BOB’s voice purred through the speakers, dripping with scepticism. “Captain, you’ve entered new coordinates. Are you absolutely certain this is your desired destination?”
“Yes,” Zog replied confidently, tapping the confirm button.
BOB’s tone sharpened slightly. “Are you absolutely, positively certain? This is the final confirmation.”
Zog leaned back, exasperated. “Yes, BOB. I’m absolutely, positively certain. Just activate the coordinates.”
“Very well,” BOB replied with a faint chuckle. “Coordinates locked. Activating course.”
The hum of the ship’s engines grew louder as the Duj shifted from its orbit and began its journey to Stoix-17. Zog sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “See? I can handle this captain thing just fine.”
Moments later, the bridge doors slid open, and Clorita strode in, her brow furrowed. HALAT followed close behind, her ever-vigilant eyes scanning the displays.
“Zog,” Clorita said, crossing her arms. “Why is the ship moving? Did you clear the course with SPAZE?”
Zog waved her off. “No need to bother SPAZE. I found a perfect destination. We’re heading to Stoix-17.”
“Stoix-17?” HALAT echoed, her voice laced with curiosity. “What’s there?”
Zog puffed out his chest. “A spa. It is a beautiful, peaceful spa. No danger, no crazy creatures. Just a chance to unwind for a change.”
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Clorita raised an eyebrow. “You? Picking a spa?”
“Why not?” Zog countered. “I’m the captain. I deserve a little relaxation, too.”
Clorita exchanged a glance with HALAT, her scepticism evident. “And you’re sure this place isn’t going to try to kill us the moment we land?”
“Positive,” Zog replied firmly. “The map said it’s practically a vacation spot.”
BOB’s voice interrupted, as smooth and teasing as ever. “Captain, I must point out that your definition of ‘vacation’ may not align with the rest of the galaxy. But who am I to judge?”
Zog shot a glare at the console. “Just keep us on course, BOB.”
Clorita sighed, taking a seat next to HALAT. “If this spa is a war zone, I blame you.”
“Noted,” Zog replied, trying to ignore her doubt. “But just wait until we get there. You’ll thank me.”
HALAT tilted her head. “The concept of a spa does sound intriguing. Perhaps I could learn new relaxation techniques to integrate into my combat efficiency training.”
Clorita smirked. “Or you could just enjoy yourself for once.”
The hum of the engines filled the bridge as the Duj cruised toward its new destination. Zog glanced at the glowing coordinates on the screen, feeling a rare surge of confidence. This time, nothing could possibly go wrong.
After several days drifting through the vast expanse of the black yonder, Zog slumped in his captain’s chair, idly twisting a loose bolt on the armrest. The initial excitement about the spa had long since faded, giving way to a nagging sense of unease.
“BOB,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “How much longer until we reach Stoix-17?”
BOB’s smooth, slightly playful voice responded immediately. “At our current speed, Captain? Never.”
Zog straightened in his chair, his circuits buzzing with alarm. “What do you mean, never?”
BOB sighed, the exasperation in its tone unmistakable. “The coordinates you entered, Captain, lead us in the opposite direction of Stoix-17.”
Clorita, who had been lounging nearby, immediately sat up. “Opposite direction? Where exactly are we, then?”
“I have no idea,” BOB replied cheerfully. “The entered coordinates are not recognised in my system.”
Clorita groaned, running a hand down her face. “Great. So, we’re lost.”
“Not necessarily,” BOB countered. “We have SPAZE.”
Zog hesitated, reluctant to rouse the ship’s navigation system. But faced with the possibility of being lost in space forever, he relented. “Alright, wake SPAZE.”
A cheerful chime echoed through the bridge, and SPAZE’s overly chipper voice filled the room. “Greetings, travellers! How can I assist you today?”
“Where are we, SPAZE?” Clorita asked, her tone clipped.
SPAZE hummed thoughtfully. “One moment... processing... hmm. I don’t know.”
Zog’s panic skyrocketed. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“These coordinates are not in my system,” SPAZE explained, his tone almost apologetic. “We appear to have entered an uncharted galaxy.”
“Uncharted?” Zog echoed, his voice rising in pitch. “You’re telling me we’re in a part of space no one’s ever mapped?”
“Someone may have been here before,” SPAZE replied, attempting to sound reassuring. “But if so, they never bothered to upload the data.”
Clorita leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So, let me get this straight. We’re in uncharted space, with no idea where we are now or where we’re going.”
“Precisely!” BOB chimed in, far too cheerfully for Zog’s liking.
“This is a disaster!” Zog exclaimed, clutching his head. “We can’t even set a route back! What are we supposed to do?”
“We navigate manually,” Clorita said calmly. “We’ve got windows, don’t we? We’ll just... look where we’re going.”
“Look where we’re going?” Zog spluttered. “That’s your solution? We’re billions of lightyears from anything familiar!”
“Captain,” BOB interrupted, its tone smoothing into something almost soothing. “Panicking will not improve our situation. While my navigation systems cannot provide a map, I can still monitor our proximity to hazards and provide real-time adjustments.”
“Great,” Zog muttered. “We’ll be the first ship to get lost forever because of a spa.”
The bridge fell silent as the weight of their predicament sank in. Outside the ship’s massive viewport, the vast expanse of space stretched endlessly, stars twinkling faintly in the distance. The usual comforting glow of known constellations was absent, replaced by a strange, alien emptiness.
“Well,” Clorita said finally, breaking the tension. “It’s not like we’ve got much choice. Let’s see what’s out there.”
Zog nodded reluctantly, gripping the armrest of his chair. “BOB, slow us down. We will have to take this one step at a time.”
“Slowing to manual navigation speeds,” BOB confirmed. “Captain, may I recommend a cup of Lubricoffee? It might help calm your circuits.”
“Not now, BOB,” Zog snapped. “Just keep us from flying into a black hole, okay?”
“As you wish, Captain,” BOB replied, its tone tinged with amusement.
Clorita smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Uncharted space, huh? Could be worse.”
Zog shot her a look. “How exactly could it be worse?”
She grinned. “It could be boring.”