![image.png](https://ipfs.busy.org/ipfs/QmbyWMxbpnLwQC2obrey9C4hjkAVhFzD3iuJDMfJdc6PDa)

After a two-week journey, our spaceship Uterus left the solar system and the asteroid belt surrounding it behind and opened up to interstellar space. According to the plan of the voyage, we were supposed to jump into the HR8832 star system that day, but our captain delayed the jump to an uncertain time due to a suspected malfunction in the propulsion system. Our technical team of two engineers and three technicians have been busy with the signal that shouldn't have been there for two weeks. That's what I'm saying because that goddamned indicator was designed to tell of unidentified failures. If you can't identify it, why are you suggesting there's a malfunction somewhere, right? Was it ingenious to put hundreds of different values measured by dozens of sensors in front of us?

Captain Theodore said that a powerful artificial learning system fed the indicator light and that 62% of the warnings it gave were accurate. I was confident that the majority of the signals that came out correctly were concocted by technical teams to convince captains that the problem had been resolved. Unfortunately, Oliver, our chief engineer, was not one to give credence to such solutions. As a result of a strange twist of fate, we lived the same day over and over again, and we're always doing the same checks and achieving the same results.

Two days after our launch into interstellar space, we started working with the team that designed the indicator light, and when the chief-engineer in charge realized the amount of the energy we were using to repair the malfunction, he was surprised. I think he took some pity on us, and he convinced Captain Theodore that the light they designed might sound a false alarm.

There was no obstacle left to make the jump, or at least that was what we thought. We were all surprised when our radar detected a spaceship coming towards us at a distance of seven million kilometers during the jump route checks. What was that ship that wasn't supposed to be there, according to records from the space flights department, and why was it so big? I immediately went to Captain Theodore's office and told him we needed to get back to the solar system. He kicked me out without letting me express my concerns adequately; he said there was no need to be alarmed, the ideal attitude of a safe flight was that everyone would be busy with their own business. It would be better if he said, 'Don't stick your nose in my job as a technician with a broken ass.' Because then I'd tell him I was tired of senile men like him.

You may have found the phrase ‘senile’ I used about my captain disrespectful. Not even an hour after our meeting, it became clear that the ship approaching Uterus belonged to a civilization we did not know about. Isn't it interesting that I was the only one who was nervous about the ship approaching Uterus at full speed? They said it was the first time humanity will encounter another civilization; I should thank God for witnessing such a meeting.

It didn't take long for the encounter to take place. As our captain struggled to communicate with them, the giant spaceship opened its big mouth and took our ship to its hangar. Have you heard the word big fish swallows little fish? My dear friends in the technical service kept their optimistic thoughts even after our spaceship Uterus was eaten. After that stage, though, there was no point in discussing who was right or who was wrong. The robots, twice the size of our size, broke the ship's two doors and went inside. They walked down the corridors leading to the central control center of Uterus and grabbed us as if we were kittens and put a mask on our heads.

And we never resisted those giant robots? First of all, I would like to point out that Uterus is not a warship; it is produced to carry cargo between star systems. Our valiant co-captains also fired at the robots with automatic weapons, but the bullets just hung in the air before they could reach the robots.

Carrying me with the sensitivity of a mother orangutan who embraced her cub, the robot was giving feelings of respect and fear. I was guessing they were taking us to examine, and my wish was that the actions they would take on us would not harm us. Even though my hands were free, I didn't dare to remove the mask they wore on my face; it might not have been appropriate to breathe air inside the ship. I couldn't see where I was; I understood they were taking us somewhere inside the ship. What should I do to survive? The giant ship that swallowed Uterus and the robots that resembled bees with their wrapped black patterns scared me so much that I couldn't think of a solution. It was not an act that would be forgiven for them to come and kidnap us like bandits, and I was going to ask them to account for this, but I had no intention of engaging with robots.

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