The Duj hummed steadily as it pressed deeper into the uncharted region of space. Stars outside the viewport thinned, their light weaker and almost fragile like web threads pulled taut. On the bridge, Zog stared at the holographic map, its blank spaces glowing faintly as though mocking him.

SPAZE’s polite, unhelpful text flickered onscreen: “NO DATA AVAILABLE. PLEASE PROCEED WITH MANUAL INPUT.”

Zog leaned back, his circuits buzzing faintly—a sensation he couldn’t quite shake, like static in the back of his mind. “Fantastic,” he muttered. “Our navigation system is useless, and now the void feels like it’s staring at me.”

Clorita, cross-legged on the floor near the console, sifted through the pile of ancient star cards. The soft glow from the diagrams illuminated her smirk. “Guess we’re going old school,” she quipped. “Nothing says cutting-edge like scribbles and a magnifying glass.”

Zog rubbed his temples. “Top-of-the-line doesn’t mean squat when there’s no line to top. We’re off the map, Clorita. And the cat’s smarter than I am.”

At that moment, Luma, the Duj’s unofficial crew member, stretched lazily on the console before batting at a flickering icon on the holographic map. The display shifted, showing an external camera feed of faint stars and a shimmering nebula. Clorita tilted her head, comparing the view to one of the cards. “Well, I’ll be damned. This matches.”

Zog groaned. “Great. The cat’s our navigator now. What’s next? Promoting Reginald to tactical?”

As if summoned, Reginald entered the bridge, his polished chrome gleaming. “Captain, I assure you, my tactical capabilities are second to none.” He presented a steaming mug of LubriCoffee with exaggerated reverence. “Perhaps some refreshment to inspire brilliance?”

Clorita wrinkled her nose. “Smells like melted bolts. Drink up, Captain Backbone.”

With a sigh, Zog took the mug, the metallic warmth seeping into his circuits. The taste, as always, was unpleasant, but it grounded him. “Necessary,” he muttered.

HALAT’s precise voice cut through the banter. “Trajectory recalibration complete. Deviation margin: 0.01 degrees. The current route remains viable.”

Zog nodded. “Thanks, Spark. Let’s hope the stars don’t lie.”

“Stars are indifferent, Captain,” HALAT replied. “Lies are a humanoid construct.”

Clorita chuckled nervously. “She’s not wrong, you know.”

Silence filled the bridge for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of the ship’s engines. Zog glanced out the viewport, his mind replaying the pirate’s whispered stories: bloodthirsty creatures, ships disappearing into nothing. He half-expected to see anything pressing against the glass, but there was only darkness. The silence felt heavier here as if the void held its breath.

Later that night, Zog returned to the bridge, restless. The Duj’s corridors were unnervingly quiet, the kind of quiet that made every creak and groan of the ship sound like footsteps in the dark. He sat in his chair, staring at the blank map.

He told himself a flicker caught his eye—just a glitch on the external sensors. BOB’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Captain, all systems are functioning within acceptable parameters. There is no cause for alarm.”

“I wasn’t alarmed,” Zog lied. “Just… checking.”

“Noted,” BOB replied smoothly, the faintest hint of sass in its tone. “Would you like me to generate a report on cognitive distortions? It may prove enlightening.”

Zog scowled but said nothing, turning back to the viewport. For a second, he thought he saw a shadow ripple across the stars. It disappeared before he could focus, leaving only the same oppressive void.

Clorita was back on the bridge the following day, sorting through more star cards. Her usual sarcasm was still present, but her movements seemed tense. Zog noticed her glancing over her shoulder now and then, though she quickly masked it with a grin when she caught his eye.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired,” she replied, holding up a cracked card. “These diagrams make my head spin. Pretty sure whoever drew these was half-blind.”

“You sure it’s the charts?”

Clorita hesitated before shrugging. “Probably just your paranoia rubbing off on me, Captain. I’m fine.”

By the time Elder Mariq entered the bridge, the atmosphere had shifted. The Aqualians’ spiritual leader carried himself with his usual calm, his reflective eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. Zog turned to greet him, feeling a mix of relief and unease.

“Still no sign of your blue planet,” Zog said, gesturing toward the blank map. “Starting to think we’re chasing shadows.”

Mariq clasped his hands, his expression serene. “Shadows have their uses, Captain. They remind us that light is near.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Zog huffed. “Yeah, well, I’d like more light and fewer shadows right about now.”

“The blue planet is more than a place,” Mariq said gently. “It is a promise. My people believe it listens to our songs, carrying them to the stars.”

“Let’s hope it’s listening,” Zog muttered, his gaze drifting back to the viewport. The stars outside seemed to shimmer faintly as if shifting just beyond perception.

Mariq tilted his head. “Hope may not be certain, Captain. But it is better than despair.”

For a moment, the bridge fell silent again. Zog felt the weight of the void pressing against him, but Mariq’s presence was a small, steadying force. For now, it would have to do.

Clorita, cross-legged on the floor with a chaotic array of star cards spread before her, let out a sharp snort. “If by ‘located’ you mean squinting at blurry visuals and letting a cat pick our course, then yeah, we’re killing it.”

Mariq’s reflective eyes shifted to Luma, who lay curled on the console, idly licking her paw. The elder tilted his head slightly, his tone measured but curious. “Your methods are… unconventional.”

“Tell me about it,” Zog muttered. He sipped his LubriCoffee, grimacing as the thick, metallic liquid coated his circuits. It was barely tolerable, but it kept him sharp—and alert.

Mariq turned to the holographic map, his gaze steady as he studied the distant star clusters. “Once we locate it, how soon can BOB begin scanning the planet? My people grow restless. They wish to know if this world might truly be our sanctuary.”

BOB’s smooth voice chimed in from the overhead speaker. “Elder Mariq, planetary analysis can commence as soon as we achieve orbit. Probes will collect atmospheric data, water composition, and potential biological activity. Preliminary results will take several hours to process.”

“Hours,” Mariq repeated softly. “A small price for certainty.”

“Assuming the planet isn’t actively trying to kill us,” Zog added, setting his mug down. “Which, given our track record, seems optimistic.”

Mariq regarded him calmly and almost unnervingly. “You are a pragmatic captain, but even pragmatists must allow room for hope.”

Zog leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of the Duj’s systems filling the silence. “Hope doesn’t pay the repair bills,” he muttered. “But fine. Let’s assume the planet’s perfect. What’s next? You set up shop, and we head off into the void?”

Mariq’s gaze lingered on the flickering display. “Perhaps. Or perhaps we can join you in further exploration. The universe is vast, and its mysteries are not limited to planets or myths.”

“Great,” Clorita quipped, tossing a star card onto the floor. “We’ll be the intergalactic mystery gang. I’ll call HALAT ‘Detective Spark.’”

Standing by the navigation console with her usual impassive demeanour, HALAT tilted her head slightly. “I do not solve mysteries. I neutralise threats.”

“That’s what makes it funny, Spark,” Clorita said, smirking.

Mariq’s expression softened with a flicker of amusement. “Your crew is… unique.”

“You’re telling me,” Zog muttered, gesturing dismissively. “Look, Mariq, we’ll let you know when we find anything. In the meantime, maybe go calm your people down. We’re flying blind here, and I don’t need a mutiny from angry Aqualians on top of everything else.”

Mariq inclined his head respectfully. “Of course, Captain. But do not mistake their restlessness for rebellion. They simply wish for a home.”

With that, the elder turned and left the bridge, the door sliding shut behind him. Zog exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the blank star map. The weight of Mariq’s calm confidence lingered in the room, pressing against Zog like an unspoken challenge.

Clorita shuffled another star card, her expression unusually focused. “He’s got a point, you know.”

“Yeah,” Zog said, his tone edged with weariness. “Let’s just hope we get to the point before this ship drives me crazy.”

The bridge fell silent except for the faint whir of the Duj’s systems. Then, as if by magic—or sheer stubborn luck—the void on the screen shifted. A glimmer of colour appeared, faint at first, then sharpening into a vivid orb of deep blue and emerald green. For a moment, no one spoke. The beauty of the planet held them in quiet awe.

Zog leaned forward, his voice low but tinged with something almost like relief. “There it is,” he said. “Finally. A blue planet.”

Clorita looked up from her cards, a slow grin spreading. “I’ll give it to you, Captain. This one doesn’t look half bad.”

Zog tapped the intercom. “Mariq, get up here. You’ll want to see this.”

Moments later, Mariq stepped onto the bridge, his calm demeanour betraying a flicker of excitement. His reflective eyes widened as he took in the shimmering planet. Swirling clouds and glittering oceans painted a tableau of serene beauty, promising endless possibilities.

“This,” Mariq whispered, his voice trembling slightly, “this could be it.”

“BOB,” Zog said, still staring at the planet, “start running your scans. Atmosphere, terrain, water composition. The works. Let’s see if this place is as good as it looks.”

BOB’s voice responded promptly. “Commencing planetary analysis. Probes deployed.”

On the screen, tiny dots of light shot from the Duj, descending toward the planet’s surface. Data began to trickle in, green bars filling up with reassuring speed.

“Preliminary scans indicate a habitable atmosphere,” BOB announced. “Oxygen-nitrogen composition suitable for humanoid and aquatic respiration. Large bodies of water were detected, and salinity levels were within acceptable ranges. Surface vegetation is abundant.”

Mariq’s shoulders seemed to relax for the first time since boarding the Duj. “It’s beautiful. If the data holds, my people may finally have a chance.”

Clorita raised an eyebrow. “And nobody’s shooting at us. That’s a good start.”

HALAT stepped forward, her tone precise. “We should remain cautious. Not all threats announce themselves immediately.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Spark,” Zog muttered, but even he couldn’t suppress the faint hope creeping into his circuits. The planet below seemed serene, untouched by the chaos that usually shadowed their travels.

Luma released a quiet, approving purr from her perch on the console. Zog glanced her way, shaking his head with a faint smirk. “Even the cat’s impressed. That’s saying something.”

For a moment, the bridge was still, the crew united in a rare, fragile sense of optimism. The blue planet glowed like a beacon in the void, promising answers—and perhaps salvation.