As they left the gym, Clorita glanced at HALAT, her expression softer. “Not bad, Spark. You’re not just a glorified mannequin after all.”

HALAT inclined her head. “And you, Mother, are not as fragile as I once assumed.”

Clorita chuckled. “Careful, Spark. I might start to like you.”

HALAT’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “A most dangerous development.”

Back in the corridors, Luma was waiting for them, idly batting at a loose wire. HALAT paused to retrieve the wire, her movements precise as always. Clorita watched her momentarily, a new respect forming in her mind.

“Next time,” Clorita said, stretching her arms over her head, “we up the stakes.”

HALAT’s eyes glowed brighter. “I look forward to it.”

Back at the bridge, HALAT stood before one of the ship’s monitors, her sleek frame perfectly still as her hand connected to a data port. Rows of information cascaded down the screen, detailing every aspect of the sparring match. Lines of combat data were scrolled by—precision percentages, predictive algorithms, miscalculations, and simulated damage reports.

Clorita, still recalibrating from the intense workout, wandered over and peered at the screen over HALAT’s shoulder. She raised an eyebrow as she read the data.

“Impressive,” she muttered, her tone a mix of respect and envy. “Wish I could do that.”

HALAT turned her head slightly, her glowing eyes fixed on Clorita. “It is a standard self-analysis protocol. Do you not have such functionality, Mother?”

Clorita snorted. “Mother,” she muttered softly, then added, “No, I don’t. I was 3D-printed by a bunch of cacti on…” She hesitated, searching her memory. “What was it? Oh yeah, Orbor-7. They loaded my AI there too. That was a few lightyears back.”

HALAT tilted her head thoughtfully. “If you were printed by the Orborian Cacti, your frame should have been equipped with a diagnostic data port for such purposes.”

Clorita frowned. “A diagnostic port? I don’t think I’ve ever used one. Where would that even be?”

HALAT’s fingers twitched as her sensors scanned Clorita’s frame. “Allow me to locate it.”

Clorita raised a suspicious eyebrow but didn’t move as HALAT stepped closer. “You’re scanning me now?”

“Yes,” HALAT replied matter-of-factly. “Hold still.”

After a few moments, HALAT’s hand paused just beneath Clorita’s shoulder joint. She pressed gently, and a small, nearly invisible panel slid open. “Here it is,” HALAT said, nodding at the newly revealed port.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Clorita muttered, twisting her head to try to see it. “I’ve had that thing all along?”

Without waiting for a response, HALAT connected a slim cable from the port to the monitor. Clorita tensed momentarily, then relaxed as the screen lit up with new data. To her surprise, rows of combat metrics appeared—similar to HALAT’s but with noticeable differences.

The data included precise details about Clorita’s performance during the sparring session. Reaction times, force output, angles of strikes, and even her balance calculations were listed. Interspersed throughout were adjustments the AI had made mid-fight, subtly improving her movements.

Clorita’s jaw dropped slightly as she scanned the display. “Wait... Was I doing that? I mean, I know I fought hard, but—”

“It appears your AI is more adaptive than you realised,” HALAT observed, her tone clinical. “During our sparring session, it recalibrated several of your responses in real-time. Fascinating.”

Clorita shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and pride flashing across her face. “I didn’t even know I could do that. Guess those cacti knew what they were doing.”

HALAT disconnected the cable and turned to face her. “It is an underutilised feature, Mother. With proper training, you could refine your combat capabilities significantly.”

“Proper training, huh?” Clorita smirked. “You’re saying I should spar with you more often?”

HALAT inclined her head. “If you wish to reach your potential, it would be advisable.”

Clorita crossed her arms, her smirk widening. “Alright, Spark. You’ve got yourself a deal. But next time, no holding back.”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“As you command,” HALAT said smoothly, though there was a faint note of satisfaction in her voice.

As Clorita settled back into her station, she couldn’t help but glance at HALAT, a strange sense of camaraderie forming. The android might have been a walking arsenal, but she also taught Clorita to push her limits.

HALAT, for her part, watched Clorita with her unflinching gaze. “You have more potential than you realise, Mother.”

Clorita rolled her eyes. “Stop calling me Mother.”

“I will consider it,” HALAT replied, her tone teasing.

From across the bridge, Zog glanced up from his console. “What are you two plotting now? Please tell me it doesn’t involve more sparring. Or explosions.”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Clorita said, grinning. “No explosions. Just... a little self-improvement.”

Zog groaned. “That’s what worries me.”

As the glowing data on the monitor faded away, the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the ship’s corridor. Clorita turned her head just as Lexton strode into the bridge, his polished shoes clicking against the sleek floor. He adjusted his perfectly tailored jacket, his every movement exuding the effortless charm of someone who knew how to sell anything to anyone.

“Ah, Captain Zog, Engineer Clorita, and...” His eyes drifted to HALAT, and for a moment, his expression faltered, his salesman’s veneer cracking slightly. “Ah, a, uh, a mannequin?”

“She’s family,” Clorita said flatly, crossing her arms. “What do you want, Lexton?”

“Straight to business,” Lexton replied with a smooth smile, regaining his composure. “I admire efficiency. I’m here to inform you that the upgrades and repairs to your, uh, magnificent vessel are nearly complete. All systems are being recalibrated, the hull has been patched to pristine condition, and—” he gestured with a flourish—“the new captain’s chairs have just been installed.”

“Finally,” Zog muttered, rubbing his temples. “I was starting to think we’d be stuck here forever.”

“Not at all!” Lexton replied, beaming. “My team prides itself on delivering excellence. Though...” He hesitated, glancing at Zog with a practised air of reluctance. “There is just one small matter.”

Clorita groaned. “Let me guess. Another add-on? A last-minute expense?”

“Perish the thought!” Lexton said, his hands raised in mock offence. “This is simply a formality. Captain Zog needs to sign off on the work order so we can finalise the recalibration process.”

Zog narrowed his eyes. “And by ‘sign off,’ you mean authorise some hidden cost you didn’t mention earlier?”

Lexton gasped theatrically. “Captain, I assure you, all expenses are accounted for and—” he leaned closer—“under warranty.”

The word “warranty” hung in the air like a bad joke. Clorita smirked, folding her arms. “Sure it is.”

“Come,” Lexton said, gesturing toward the corridor. “Why don’t we take a stroll through the ship? You can see the improvements firsthand.”

Zog hesitated, glancing at Clorita. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” she said, pushing him toward the door. “Let’s ensure they didn’t install rocket launchers in the bathrooms.”

Lexton chuckled nervously. “Oh, no, no, nothing so extreme. We pride ourselves on tasteful enhancements.”

As the group moved through the ship, Lexton narrated their progress with the enthusiasm of a tour guide. “As you can see, the hull repairs are seamless. We used molecular bonding agents to reinforce the integrity without adding unnecessary weight.”

“Great,” Zog muttered. “What about the engines?”

“Ah, yes, the engines! Completely overhauled. The Quantum Reactor Core runs at 97.4% efficiency, significantly improving the original design. And, of course, we installed the latest safety protocols.”

“Safety protocols?” Clorita asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Indeed!” Lexton said his grin widening. “In the unlikely event of engine failure, the ship will emit a soothing lavender scent to calm passengers.”

Clorita pinched the bridge of her nose. “So... it’ll smell nice while we’re dying.”

“Precisely!” Lexton said, missing the sarcasm entirely.

Finally, they arrived at the bridge, where two gleaming captain’s chairs stood proudly at the centre of the room. The chairs were sleek and futuristic, with glowing panels built into the armrests and cushions that looked almost too luxurious to sit on.

“And here,” Lexton said with a flourish, “are the crowning jewels of your upgrade package. Fully adjustable, ergonomic, and equipped with thirty massage settings. Including—” he leaned closer, lowering his voice—“a Celestial Caress mode for, ah, deep relaxation.”

Zog blinked at the chairs, then at Lexton. “You’re joking.”

“I never joke about comfort,” Lexton said, touching his heart.

Clorita shook her head, muttering, “Celestial Caress. Unbelievable.”

Zog hesitantly approached one of the chairs and sat down. The seat adjusted instantly to his frame, the cushions moulding perfectly around him. He pressed a button, and the chair vibrated gently, emitting a soft hum.

“Oh,” Zog said, his eyes widening slightly. “That’s... actually not bad.”

“Not bad?” Lexton repeated, feigning offence. “Captain, this is state-of-the-art! You could command an entire fleet in comfort.”

As Zog fiddled with the settings, HALAT stepped closer, tilting her head as she examined the other chair. “And where am I expected to sit?”

Clorita smirked. “In the old captain’s chairs. They’re fine, just a little... vintage.”

“Vintage,” HALAT repeated, her voice tinged with scepticism.

“Think of it as character,” Clorita added with a grin.

HALAT’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly. “I see.”