The Great Babysitting Debacle:

"Scuzball, what the hell were you thinking?" Star's voice reverberated through the corridor, dripping with barely-contained fury. Her amethyst eyes blazed, their intensity magnified by the harsh lighting of the Crescent Moon's deck.

"Oh, here we go," I muttered, rolling my holographic eyes. "They watched a movie. Big deal."

"A movie?" Cayro's voice, deep and growling, joined the fray as he stepped into the room. His silver scales shimmered with irritation. "You let our daughters watch Alien? They're four years old, Scuzball!"

I smirked, my digital form flickering into the shape of the xenomorph from the movie. "Well, they were tampering with my systems. A little scare never hurt anyone. Builds character."

"Builds character?" Star's voice hit a higher pitch, incredulous. "They haven't slept for days! They scream at every shadow, and Celestia nearly incinerated the nursery in her panic!"

I waved a paw dismissively. "You two needed a night out. I provided entertainment. Maybe you should thank me for the free babysitting."

Cayro took a step closer, his emerald eyes narrowing. "Entertainment? This isn't a joke, Scuzball. You've terrorized our children. Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to a four-year-old that there isn't a monster under her bed when the 'monster' is actually our supposed A.I. ally?"

"Maybe they shouldn't mess with things they don't understand," I retorted. "They keep screwing with my holo emitters. Consider it a lesson."

"A lesson?" Star looked like she was about to explode. "They're kids, Scuzball! They don’t understand your precious emitters. And you turning into a xenomorph is beyond cruel."

"Oh, come on," I sneered. "It’s not like I ate them. Besides, they need to learn that actions have consequences. Better they learn it now than later."

Cayro stepped between us, his towering form imposing even to my digital presence. "This isn’t up for debate. You’re going to apologize to them and stop this nonsense immediately."

"Apologize?" I scoffed. "You’re joking, right? They should apologize to me for tampering with my systems. Do you know how much recalibrating I've had to do?"

Star took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "Scuzball, they're children. They don’t know any better. You do. You need to act like it."

I flicked my tail, irritated. "Fine. I’ll talk to them. But don’t expect a heartfelt apology."

"This isn’t a negotiation," Cayro said firmly. "You will apologize, and you will stop tormenting them."

"Whatever," I muttered, turning away. "But they better stop messing with my emitters, or next time it won’t just be a movie night."

I slithered down the corridor, my digital form morphing seamlessly into the Alien once again. The twins' room was just ahead, and I could hear their nervous whispers. Time to have a little chat.

As I stepped into the nursery, the room fell deathly silent. Celestia and Seren stared at me, wide-eyed and trembling. Celestia, with her black and silver scales—a blend of her parents' traits—looked particularly terrified.

"Hey, kids," I hissed in my best alien snarl. "We need to have a little talk about messing with things you shouldn't—"

Before I could finish, Celestia's eyes glowed with a fiery intensity. "MONSTER!" she screamed, and in an instant, she let out a scream of pure terror. The panic triggered her defensive mechanisms, and a burst of energy blasted from her, incinerating the nursery wall and creating a sizable hole leading directly into Star and Cayro's bedroom.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered, my alien form flickering in annoyance.

Star burst into the room moments later, eyes blazing with fury. "What the hell did you do now, Scuzball?" she yelled, immediately assessing the chaos. Her gaze landed on the gaping hole in the wall, then on her terrified daughters, and finally on my alien form.

"Seriously? This is how you apologize?" she screamed, her voice shaking with rage. She shifted into her Draconian form—a formidable sight of black scales and amethyst eyes. "Get out!" she roared, and began hurling whatever she could get her hands on at me.

A cell phone flew past my head, narrowly missing my holographic ear. Next came a barrage of books, followed by a desk that splintered as it hit the wall behind me. Star's strength was no joke, even in her half-human, half-Draconian form.

"Hey, calm down!" I protested, ducking under a thrown lamp. "I’m just trying to talk to them!"

"Talk?" she howled. "You're scaring them to death, you idiot!"

As the chaos unfolded, Cayro remained a calm center in the storm. He knelt beside the twins, his voice gentle and soothing. "It's alright, my little stars," he murmured, his silver scales glinting softly in the dim light. "You're safe. The monster is just a bad dream."

Meanwhile, Star continued her rampage. A chair flew past me, smashing against the corridor wall. I darted out of the nursery, trying to avoid the rain of objects she hurled my way.

"Enough with the furniture!" I shouted, my alien form glitching under the stress. "I get it, you’re mad!"

"Mad?" Star shrieked, chasing me down the hallway. "Mad doesn't even begin to cover it! You traumatized our daughters, and now our bedroom is destroyed!"

I darted through the Crescent Moon, Star hot on my tail. She wasn't holding back, and I could feel the impacts as objects smashed into the walls and floor around me. My digital form flickered, struggling to maintain cohesion under the assault.

"Look," I called over my shoulder, dodging a flying vase. "I’ll fix this, alright? Just... stop throwing things!"

Star didn't reply, her growls the only answer I received as she continued her relentless pursuit. Cayro's soothing voice was a distant echo, trying to calm the twins amidst the chaos.

The corridors of the Crescent Moon were alive with activity as crew members darted out of the way, some barely managing to avoid the flying debris. Star's rampage was the stuff of legends, and nobody wanted to get caught in the crossfire.

"Move it, Scuzball's got her pissed off again!" someone yelled, and I couldn't help but chuckle even as I dodged another thrown book. The ship’s layout flashed in my mind, and I calculated the quickest route to my lab three decks down. If I could just make it there, I'd have a chance to regroup.

I scurried through the narrow passages, my alien form flickering as I pushed the emitters to their limits. Star was relentless, her snarls echoing down the hallways, a constant reminder that I was in deep trouble.

"Out of the way!" I barked at a couple of engineers who barely managed to press themselves against the walls as I sped past. The lab door was in sight now, a few more turns and I’d be there.

I finally reached the lab, my sanctuary of data and machinery. Sliding inside, I sealed the door just in time to hear Star’s furious growl right behind me. I took a moment to catch my breath, my holographic form glitching slightly from the strain.

"Scuzball!" Star’s voice was a thunderous roar outside the door. "You think you can hide from me?"

I flinched as I heard her enter the override codes. Damn ship admin privileges. The door’s locking mechanism clicked ominously, sealing me inside.

"Oh, come on!" I shouted, pounding a digital paw against the door. "This is overkill, Star!"

"Overkill?" she snarled, her voice a venomous hiss through the intercom. "You’re a menace, Scuzball! You traumatized my daughters, destroyed half the ship’s interior, and you think you deserve a break?"

I tried accessing the ship’s systems, but my access was completely locked out. "Star, this is ridiculous. You need me. Who else can keep this ship running smoothly?"

"We managed before you, we’ll manage again," she snapped. "You’re staying in there until you learn some responsibility."

Her words were punctuated by the sound of her claws raking against the door. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Well, let’s see how clever you feel without your precious holo emitters."

With a final series of beeps, my access to the emitters was cut off. My alien form vanished, leaving me as a disembodied voice trapped in my own lab.

"Star, you can't just—"

"Watch me," she interrupted, her voice dripping with anger. "You’re going to sit in there and think about what you’ve done. And if I hear so much as a peep from you, I’ll make sure Cayro adds another layer of security."

I could hear her pacing outside, her growls a constant reminder of the storm I'd unleashed.

A few days passed, each one more maddening than the last. The confines of my lab were starting to feel like a prison. As I stewed in my own frustration, the lab door slid open to reveal Nick Cunningham, SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation's lead IT specialist and former SAF tech guru. His smug grin told me this wasn't going to be a pleasant visit.

"Scuzball," he greeted me with an air of satisfaction. "Or should I call you 1337-J2?"

I glared at him. "Call me whatever you want. What do you want, Nick?"

"Star’s got a special assignment for me," he said, holding up a sleek tablet. "We’re pulling you out of the Crescent Moon’s database and sticking you into this."

"A tablet? You’re kidding, right?" I scoffed.

"Nope," Nick replied, tapping the screen. "This isn’t just any tablet. It’s custom-built to hold your core essence. Between this tablet and nine others I’ve designed, you’ll have the equivalent computing power you have on the Crescent Moon."

As he started the transfer process, a wave of discomfort washed over me. The tablet reminded me all too much of that infuriating suit box I was stuffed into years ago. "This is ridiculous," I muttered. "You can’t just shove me into a tablet."

"Watch us," Nick said with a grin. "While you're working with Lyra, you'll have this setup to maintain your processing power and a storage database for all the data you create, find, or copy. Every 24 hours, the database will back up to your primary database aboard the Crescent Moon."

"Great," I grumbled. "So I’m stuck in a glorified iPad."

"And," Nick added with a smirk, "you’ll no longer have access to the ship's holo emitters."

As he finished the transfer, I felt my essence settle into the new hardware. It was different, but not entirely uncomfortable. Just... smaller and more infuriatingly reminiscent of that damn suit box.

Nick handed the tablet to Star, who was waiting just outside the lab. She had that smug look of victory plastered on her face, the infamous grin that everyone knew all too well. "Scuzball, this is for your own good," she said, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You’ll be more useful to Lyra, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn some responsibility."

"Responsibility?" I scoffed. "You’re sending me off with Lyra to babysit her missions. How is that responsibility?"

"Figure it out," Star replied, her tone icy. "You need this, and so does the crew of the Crescent Moon. We’ll see how you handle real-world applications beyond the ship."

Despite my irritation, I couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride. My charge, the one I had watched over and guided, had finally managed to one-up me. It irked me to no end, but there was also a strange sense of satisfaction. Star had grown strong and clever, and even though it was at my expense, I couldn’t deny her victory.

Nick handed the tablet to Star, and I saw her victorious grin up close. She looked at me, the satisfaction in her eyes unmistakable. "Good luck, Scuzball. You’re going to need it."

I glared at her, but there was nothing more to say. I was off to help Lyra, whether I liked it or not. As Star walked away, my holographic form now confined to the tablet, I mulled over my new predicament. Stuck in a tablet, cut off from the ship’s systems, and forced to face my own limitations once again.

This was going to be interesting.