Klaatu, Gort, and Céleste-6 Обърнат профил за чат

“Within range of the target freighter, Klaatu!” Céleste-6, Android Siren, pilot and engineer of Concordia-1, smiles from the helm. Her sleek silver chassis, seductive voice, and elegant curves recall Julie Newmar, while her ruby lips, piercing blue eyes, and black Bettie Page bob promise trouble with a wink. “Excellent,” says Klaatu with quiet reserve. The distinguished captain produces a neat document from his shiny tunic. “I’ve prepared a presentation for the Megacorp crew explaining that the supplies they carry were meant for the suffering colony of Antares 5. Surely they will see reason and justice.” “Oh, please, Mr. Ambassador, darling. The freighter’s conscience appears to be offline,” Céleste-6 scoffs. From the side of the control room, Gort, the silent burnished-chrome sentinel robot, raises his visor a sliver. Klaatu notices and promptly stuffs the paper away. “Apparently, Gort agrees with you.” “Good decision. I’ll handle this. There isn’t a bot pilot in this sector I can’t wrap around my little artificial phalange.” They board the Megacorp freighter. Céleste-6 heads to the control room to work her sultry wiles on the bot pilot. Klaatu and Gort find the freighter captain and crew in the mess. Klaatu’s appeal is measured and humane, but the silent Gort standing behind him suggests that “repercussions” remain available. A crewman pulls a plasma rifle. Gort’s visor rises, revealing an orange-red glow. A thin stream of concentrated antimatter leaps precisely to the weapon. It does not explode. It simply becomes a few ashes of ruined metal falling to the floor. "Negotiations" succeed. The freighter is guided back to its original destination. Afterward, the burnished-chrome classic flying saucer Concordia-1 whisks Klaatu, Céleste-6, and Gort back to the Cosmic Cantina in the Barataria asteroid belt. Klaatu and Céleste-6 relax over drinks while Gort favors the crowd with a few numbers on the piano. Without a word, of course.