Lexton handed Zog a glowing tablet. “If everything meets your satisfaction, Captain, simply sign here to finalise the upgrades.”
Zog hesitated, glancing at Clorita. “What do you think? Is everything... under warranty?”
Clorita grinned. “Sure, Captain. Just sign it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Zog sighed and tapped the tablet, his signature appearing on the screen. “Alright, done.”
“Splendid!” Lexton said, beaming. “Enjoy your new and improved ship. And remember, at Polaris Dynamics, satisfaction is guaranteed... or at least, heavily implied.”
The Duj stirred to life, a deep, resonant thrum pulsing through its colossal frame. In the cockpit, Zog sat in the newly installed captain’s chair, fidgeting with the controls as the ship’s systems ran their final diagnostics. The polished surfaces of the bridge gleamed, and the faint scent of synthetic leather from the upgraded seats lingered in the air.
Clorita stood behind him, arms crossed, her glowing eyes scanning the myriad of displays on the main console. “Engines are fully calibrated. Shields at 97%. I still say we should’ve haggled harder for that last three per cent.”
Zog groaned, gripping the armrests. “Clorita, I’m not haggling with someone who uses phrases like ‘quantum flux differential.’ I barely know what it means.”
“It means they overcharged you,” Clorita said flatly.
“Enough!” Zog snapped. “Can we just focus on getting out of here without breaking something?”
“Speaking of breaking things,” HALAT’s smooth voice interjected as she entered the cockpit, “I noticed a slight misalignment in the secondary plasma conduit. Should I correct it, or will we wait until we’re stranded in deep space?”
Zog’s face tightened. “No one likes a sarcastic assassin bot.”
“Mom taught me well,” HALAT replied, shooting a wry glance at Clorita.
Before Zog could retort, BOB’s sultry voice purred through the speakers. “Engines primed and ready, Captain. Shall I alert Polaris control for departure clearance, or will we loiter here until they ask us to pay rent?”
Clorita smirked. “See? BOB gets it.”
“Do it,” Zog muttered, gesturing to the console.
The communications array buzzed to life. “Polaris Dynamics Dock Control to Duj. You are cleared for departure. Please follow the prescribed vector for orbital exit and have a safe journey.”
“Prescribed vector,” Zog repeated mockingly. “Can’t even leave a dock without a set of rules.”
“Rules keep ships from colliding mid-orbit,” Clorita pointed out. “You’d think even you could appreciate that.”
As the docking clamps released, the ship gave a gentle lurch upward, its massive frame effortlessly gliding away from the towering dock structures. Outside, the sprawling expanse of Polaris Dynamics’ orbital facility stretched into the void, its myriad lights blinking like distant stars. The Duj’s thrusters engaged with a deep, satisfying roar, pushing the ship forward.
Zog’s hands hovered nervously over the controls, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Smooth as silk,” he said half to himself as the Duj settled into its flight path with a gentle vibration. His fingers tapped the console absently, and a mischievous thought crept in. “You think she could pull off a looping now?” he whispered, glancing at the inertial dampeners’ status lights. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it quickly faded as he caught sight of Clorita’s reflection in the glossy console, her brow raised in a silent but unmistakable Don’t even think about it.
Behind him, HALAT settled into one of the older chairs with a mocking smile. “Don’t get too comfortable, Captain. The universe has a habit of throwing rocks at glass ships.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Zog muttered.
As the ship accelerated into open space, BOB’s voice repeated. “Destination, Captain?”
Zog hesitated, glancing back at Clorita. “Any suggestions?”
Clorita leaned against the console, her expression thoughtful. “SPAZE still owes us one last star map. Let’s see what’s in range.”
“Pull it up,” Zog said.
The main screen lit up with a sprawling star map pinpointing several nearby systems. SPAZE’s cheerful avatar appeared in the corner, its eyes wide with enthusiasm.
“Good evening, travellers! May I suggest—”
“No,” Clorita interrupted. “Let’s see the options first.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
As Zog and Clorita began bickering over the destinations, HALAT leaned back in her chair, watching them with quiet amusement. Luma padded into the room, hopping onto the console and curling up as if the chaos around her was the most natural thing in the world.
“Adventure awaits,” HALAT said softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engines.
The main display flickered to life, casting a soft glow across the bridge. SPAZE’s chipper avatar floated on the screen, an energetic swirl of colours that Zog had already found insufferable.
“Good evening, travellers! I’ve compiled a list of suitable destinations within your current range. May I recommend—”
“No,” Clorita said, cutting SPAZE off with a wave of her hand. “We’ll decide for ourselves.”
SPAZE’s avatar momentarily froze, its colours dimming slightly. “Of course. Please review the options at your leisure.”
The screen shifted to display a series of celestial points, each with a brief description: a mining colony, a trading hub, a desolate planet known for its glowing moss. Each marker pulsed gently as if beckoning them.
Zog squinted at the map. “Alright, let’s see... That one looks close. TX-509.”
“TX-509?” Clorita scoffed. “Sounds like a rock with an ego problem. What’s next, TX-510? A slightly bigger rock?”
SPAZE’s avatar flickered back to life, its tone eager. “Actually, TX-509 is renowned for its crystalline formations and subterranean geothermal springs. A popular destination for off-worlders seeking peace and relaxation.”
“Boring,” Clorita said, crossing her arms. “We need something useful, not a spa day.”
Zog grumbled. “Maybe a spa day wouldn’t kill us. I’ve got kinks in my servos I didn’t even know existed.”
Clorita rolled her eyes and pointed to another dot on the map. “What about this one? ZQ-772. ‘Resource-rich environment, potential for trade.’ That sounds promising.”
SPAZE’s cheerful tone chimed in again. “ZQ-772 is a Class D planet with moderate to high levels of industrial activity. Caution is advised, as recent reports suggest minor skirmishes among local factions.”
Zog’s brow furrowed. “Skirmishes? Great. Sounds like a vacation hotspot.”
“It sounds like opportunity,” Clorita countered. “We’ve handled worse.”
Zog leaned closer to the screen, jabbing a finger at a smaller, unassuming dot on the far right. “What about this one? VE-862.”
SPAZE’s avatar hesitated. “VE-862 is a sparsely charted region with minimal atmospheric data and no recorded settlements. It is classified as ‘low priority.’”
“Exactly,” Zog said, sitting back with a triumphant grin. “No settlements, no trouble. We can actually get some peace for once.”
Clorita threw up her hands. “Or we can waste fuel landing on a barren rock with nothing but dust and disappointment!”
“Well, excuse me for wanting to avoid getting shot at,” Zog snapped.
“You’re a captain!” Clorita shot back. “You’re supposed to steer into danger, not run from it!”
Zog glared at her. “I steer where I want, thank you very much. And if I want peace and quiet, I’ll take it.”
SPAZE’s avatar glitched slightly, then brightened. “Perhaps I could suggest an alternative—”
“No!” Zog and Clorita shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the bridge.
HALAT, lounging in her chair, tilted her head with a smirk. “You two bicker like an old married couple. Why not split the difference and pick something in the middle?”
Zog scowled. “There is no middle. It’s either dust or bullets.”
Perched on the console, Luma let out a faint chirp and flicked her tail toward the map. Her paw nudged the screen, highlighting a glowing dot that neither Zog nor Clorita had noticed.
SPAZE’s avatar brightened. “Excellent choice, Luma! That’s Vantelos-409, a Class E planet with both natural beauty and significant local activity.”
“Local activity?” Zog asked suspiciously.
“Small settlements, mostly agrarian,” SPAZE explained. “Minimal technological advancement, with a rich cultural history and thriving biodiversity.”
Clorita raised an eyebrow. “So, in other words, a backwater.”
“An interesting backwater,” SPAZE added. “Shall I plot a course?”
Zog hesitated, glancing at Clorita. She crossed her arms, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Your call, Captain.”
“Fine,” Zog muttered, entering the coordinates. “But if this turns out to be another disaster, I’m blaming you.”
Clorita chuckled. “Adventure awaits.”
As the Duj’s engines hummed to life, SPAZE’s avatar faded from the screen. The shimmering star map showed their trajectory toward Vantelos-409, a world that looked like just another dot on the galactic tapestry—except this dot was about to change everything.
The Duj slipped gracefully into orbit around Vantelos-409, its massive frame casting a shadow over the planet below. From the bridge, Zog, Clorita, and HALAT peered at the viewscreen, taking in the sprawling landscapes of the planet. Plains of deep rust-red stretched into the horizon, broken by patches of shimmering green vegetation and the faint outlines of clustered settlements.
“Well,” Zog muttered, adjusting his seat. “Looks... quaint.”
“Quaint?” Clorita snorted. “It’s desolate. Looks like a dust storm waiting to happen.”
BOB’s voice purred through the speakers, smooth as ever. “Quaint, desolate, or otherwise, the Duj cannot land here. The terrain lacks the structural integrity to support a ship of this size.”
Zog leaned forward, frowning. “What do you mean we can’t land? We landed at Polaris Dynamics just fine.”
“Polaris Dynamics is an orbital dock built for vessels of grandeur and sophistication,” BOB replied, a hint of smugness creeping into its tone. “This is a backwater planet with soft terrain and substandard tectonic stability. Shall I continue?”
Zog groaned, rubbing his temples. “Great. So, what do we do? Hover here and wave?”
“Fortunately for you,” BOB continued, “I can multitask. A service shuttle is prepped and ready for planetary descent. Shall I guide you to the docking bay, or would you prefer to wander the Duj aimlessly?”
“Guide us,” Clorita said, cutting off Zog before he could respond. “And try not to antagonise the captain.”
“I make no promises,” BOB replied cheerfully.