Deep in the cold silence of space, a shattered brown warship drifted through the darkness like a wounded beast. Scars from the battle still marred its hull, metal melted and twisted from cannon fire. Inside, the corridors glowed with dull emergency lighting, painting everything in flickering red.
Simion stood at the front of the bridge, hands clasped behind him, eyes fixed on streams of data flowing across the central holographic display.
For days now, the Ultralink's energy signature had been dead, silent after the pod escaped toward Earth. So silent that even Simion briefly considered the possibility that the device was destroyed.
But then—
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!
A sharp alert cut through the bridge.
One of the officers snapped to attention. "Commander Simion! We have something!"
Simion's fingers danced across the console, his eyes narrowing at the sudden spike of readings.
There it was. Faint, but unmistakable.
A pulse of energy: alien, sophisticated, volatile, flashing from the surface of a blue and green world.
"After days of silence…" Simion murmured, leaning forward. "At last, the Ultralink stirs again."
Another officer spoke up.
"Origin point: Earth. Same vector as the escape pod."
Simion nodded slowly.
He felt no excitement, no hunger for the device. His interest was purely operational. The Ultralink wasn't his to covet. He simply had a job to complete and failing was not an option.
He straightened, voice crisp and authoritative. "Prepare the slipstream drive. Set a direct course for Earth."
The crew moved instantly.
"Commander," another officer said, "should we notify the main fleet?"
Simion shook his head. "No. Not yet. First, we confirm the its status and retrieve it. That is the assignment given to us and we will complete it efficiently."
His atomic chest emblem glowed faintly as he turned to the viewport, Earth appearing like a distant sapphire in the void.
"And if any of Earth's defenders interfere…" He raised a hand, signaling the weapons officer. "Stand ready. The retrieval team will not be hindered."
Lights dimmed, engines roared.
The ship's nose shifted toward the distant planet.
Simion's voice carried across the bridge with quiet finality:
"Begin descent preparations.
We make planetfall in two hours."
________
After Dexter stepped down from the stage, his family immediately surrounded him, showering him with praise. Susan hugged him tightly while Harold thumped his back with all the enthusiasm of a proud father trying not to cry in public.
Dee Dee, glitter still on her cheeks from cheering earlier, leaned in close. "Dexterrrr! How did you make her transform that smoothly? And does she have, like… turbo mode? Or hover shoes? Does she dance?"
"Dee Dee, please," Dexter muttered, though he couldn't help the tiny smirk forming.
"Alright, I'll stop… tehee." Dee Dee knocked her knuckles lightly against her forehead, sticking her tongue out in a playful tehhe before instantly leaning sideways to peek at Arcee again.
Up on stage, Arcee kneeled down politely so students could approach.
"Hello!" she said, giving a little wave with her metal fingers. Half the audience melted.
"WOAH! You can talk? Like actually talk? Do you know Ultralord? Do you want to know Ultralord?"
Arcee paused, processing. "I… do not believe I have met that designation."
Carl nervously stepped forward next. "Um… hi… robot lady… your tires are shiny…"
Arcee leaned down kindly. "Thank you! Dexter even waxed me himself this morning."
Dexter's eye twitched from the distance. He had waxed her, but he did not need the world to know that.
The crowd was fully enamored with her taking photos, asking questions, amazed that a transforming robot was real and friendly.
Down below, Dexter's attention shifted as Morbucks. She had that smug little grin she always wore when she felt important.
"So," he said, arms crossed, "how was it? Worth the investment?"
Morbucks smirked like a cat that found a gold bar.
"Oh, absolutely. I was expecting good. But that?" She snapped her fingers. "That was rich-people good."
Dexter had barely finished speaking with Morbucks when another figure stepped up beside them—calm posture, suit crisp, badge clipped neatly to his belt.
"Its nice to meet you," the man said, offering a polite, professional smile. "I'm agent Phil Coulson of Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
Dexter blinked once. "Ah. S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Exactly." Coulson extended a hand, and Dexter shook it. "Congratulations on the presentation. Your work is… impressive."
"Thank you," Dexter replied, trying not to sound like he'd been caught off guard.
Coulson nodded warmly. "When you have a moment later, I'd like a small word with you. Nothing urgent."
"Alright," Dexter said. "Just find me."
Before he could say anything more, Susan looped an arm around him.
"Dexter, honey, you're taking a break. We're treating you to a proper meal."
Harold added, "Outside food! With extra cholesterol!"
Dee Dee cheered and immediately invited the Parr family. Bob and Helen agreed mainly because Dash were already curious about Dexter after the show while Violet murmured her congratulations again, partially hiding behind her bangs.
Soon the whole group gathered at a small food stall just outside the university. Plastic tables, warm lamps, sizzling food. The contrast to the high-tech expo made it oddly cozy.
Dexter sat at the edge of the table, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. Violet eventually settled beside him more by accident than choice and froze when she realized how close they were. Dexter noticed her stiffening and awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Uhm… hello."
"Hi," Violet said quickly. Then she flushed. "I mean—hi. Again. From earlier."
"Yes. Earlier." Dexter nodded stiffly. "Thank you for your… congratulatory acknowledgement."
Violet almost choked. "Y-You mean the 'congratulations?'"
"Precisely."
An awkward pause stretched between them. Violet fidgeted. Dexter pretended to check his watch even though it was turned off.
She tried again. "Your robot was really impressive. Arcee, I mean. She… she seemed alive."
"She is," Dexter replied, softer this time. "Or at least, close enough to it."
Violet gave a tiny smile. "I could tell. She was kind of cute."
Dexter's brain froze for half a second. "…I–I suppose that is an acceptable description."
Dexter felt something warm crawl up his neck. He opened his mouth to say something else anything else when suddenly Dee Dee popped up behind them, leaning so close her hair brushed their shoulders.
"Sooo! Whatcha two talking about?"
Dexter jumped. Violet nearly spilled her drink.
Dee Dee plopped herself between them with zero awareness of social boundaries.
"So!" she grinned wide. "What's going on? Talking about science? Talking about life? Talking about—"
"Dee Dee," Dexter warned, voice sharp, "please refrain from—"
Dee Dee leaned toward Violet, whisper-loud: "Is he being weird? He gets weird when he likes—"
"DEEE DEEEE!" Dexter slammed his hands on the table, face red but trying so hard not to be.
Dee Dee blinked. "What? I'm just asking!"