《Avafarce》 Avafarce Or the project that doesn¡¯t exist, you didn¡¯t hear it from me, and I never told you a thing. The scientist tried to keep pace with a sweaty jog, nervously flailing his arms as he trailed behind the Jornissian agent leading a mixed entourage through the humans-only research station. ¡°Please, sir!¡± Said he. ¡°You have to be reasonable! It is just a work of fiction! We cannot reproduce such fantastic concept at all! I mean, why would we even think about transfering human minds into artificial xeno bodies? There¡¯s no rhyme or reason to it!¡± The Jornissian stopped in his tracks, suddenly twisting his serpentine body to face the human scientist while the tip of his tail pointed at the man in an accusatory manner, freezing the man in place. ¡°[May I remind you of what your colleagues where doing in [Subzero Giant]?]¡± Said the Jornissian, eyes narrowed. ¡°[What was its name? ¡°Skinetwork¡±? Yes, something like that. And if I remember correctly, that computer virus was inspired by one of your media artefacts, so there¡¯s precedence.]¡± The scientist shaked in anxious fear. ¡°T-that was, uh, taken out of context, sir. It, uh, really was a-an AI. B-but, it was rudimentary! N-nothing dangerous!¡± ¡°[Precisely.]¡± The Jornissian agent turned and returned to his mission, leaving the scientist struggling to keep up again. ¡°[You make something seemingly innocuous at first. Then, something goes wrong, and an army of drones chanting murder is suddenly taking control of a colony!]¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Ok, m-maybe that one wen¡¯t a-a little wrong, uh, sir! But, that doesn¡¯t mean something is happening-¡° GRUNCH. The door to a big testing room was forcefully opened by xeno agents, allowing their Jornissian leader to pass through. ¡°-here¡­¡± There was an exchange of gasps. Then, silence. The Jornissian and his entourage stood there in disbelief, staring at the center of the room where a trio of very naked xenos (a ruby-red Jornissian, a silver-blue Dorarizin, and an emerald-green Karnakian; all uncannily handsome by their species¡¯ standards, so I heard) stood in a triangle playing hot potato¡­In a humans-only station. The naked Karnakian dropped the ball in surprise, breaking the silence with it¡¯s bounce. ¡°Hum, uh¡­Hello.¡± Said he with a clearly human-karnakian accent, sheepishly waving a clearly human greeting gesture at the sudden guests. There was an equal mix of concern and curiousity on the xeno agents¡¯ faces. Then, their Jornissian leader proved his proactiveness by being the first to say. [WHAT THE FUCK?] Avafarce 2: The switcheroo In which management changes for the Potato Crew. (And the writer finally read the TaS Master Document. All hail team TaS!) Project Cameron had gone to shit. That was the only statement needed for the involved humans to know they shouldn¡¯t bother to save the research and just sweep everything under the rug as nonchalantly as possible. The xenos had discovered their little secret and had intervened ¡°for their safety¡±, so now Research Station #DX192 Titanic MCMLIV (or Tigh Tunic, as she was called to distinguish her from the hundreds of Titanics) had become a (not at all to size) mixed species station dedicated to the ¡°good of all little-needs-protecting/warmcuddles/tiny-chompers¡±. For the rest of the galaxy, though, it was Tuesday.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°How long you figure they¡¯ll tolerate us?¡± Said Potato Nuggets, the (ex-human) Karnakian whose reptilian vocal cords were surprisingly (and scarily) human-like. ¡°Well,sheysheemedshinsherewhensheyshaidsheywouldn¡¯tharmush.¡± Said Potato Noodle, the (ex-human) Jornissian whose speech was like a perpetual steaming pipe with no pause (but never hurried.). ¡°(But we freaks.)¡± Gestured Potato Kibbles, the (ex-human) Dorarizin who couldn¡¯t speak human, thus, used sign language with mad ninjutsu skills. ¡°(Are they not unnerved?)¡± His fellow potatoes shrugged, and the trio continued their game of pass-the-ball as they sat down in a triangle in the rec room. It was fun, familiar, and there was just not much to do besides eat-sleep-get tested-repeat for years to come. Meanwhile, the (fresh) scientific group of dozens of different xenos observed the trio of (hybrid?) xenos from behind the huge glass wall, all frantically taking notes as wild hypotheses flooded their minds to explain this bizarre miracle of science: How did they manage to pass and catch a human-made ball without destroying it? Avafarce 3: The naked truth In which the Potato Crew keep flashing xenos. The Potatoes were humble individuals from the start. They signed up for the experiment for one good reason: to get the moniez, the greens, the big bucks! So, they mostly had no trouble following orders to the best of their understanding, prior to the transplant and once they had their new xeno bodies. ¡°[Mr. [Potato Feathers], please!]¡± Said the Karnakian scientist. ¡°[Put on your jumpsuit!]¡± That said, habits die hard. And when you are treated as if your new ¡°animal skin¡± is now your clothing (and that treatment extends for years), getting used to suit up for the sake of modesty takes time and effort. ¡°Why? It feels stuffy and my feathers itch!¡± Said Potato Feathers, arms crossed and facing the wall, yet giving the white jumpsuit the stink eyes. ¡°[Because you keep distracting the interns. Now, put it on!]¡± ¡°Bah!¡± Thought Potato Feathers, glancing at the glass wall to check the (flustered but oh-so-interested) flock of Karnakians staring at him clutching their tablets. ¡°This was not an issue before.¡± And that was true. Until the xenos arrived a few months ago and they insisted they should cover themselves after one too many incidents amongst the newest xeno residents. ¡°[Mr. [Potato Kibbles], stop running!]¡± Said a Dorarizin chasing a naked Dorarizin around the hall. Then- ¡°[Gotcha!]¡± Another Dorarizin flanked the naked rogue, cornering him at last. ¡°[Now, be a good boy and put on your suit.]¡± Said the first one, holding a white jumpsuit in claw.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°(No, no, no.)¡± Ninjutsued Potato Kibbles, ears back in anxienty and tail between his legs. ¡°(Do not want!)¡± ¡°Shustputitonalready.¡± Said Potato Noodle from another corner, getting dressed by an earth-brown Jornissian and being the only one content to have clothes for warm. ¡°You¡¯llgetushedtoit.¡± Feathers gave Noodle the stink eyes. ¡°Traitor.¡± Noodles gave him the mocking snake tongue, ever so amused by his Karnakian bro¡¯s four eyes. ¡°Comeon,guysh.Iwannaplaycassh.¡± Said he, holding the ball. Feathers finally relented to put on the suit, muttering under his breath as he struggled with it. ¡°You¡¯ll get lots of GRC, they said. You¡¯ll be able to buy a whole private beach world, they said.¡± But, why were the xenos helping with the (secret) human project in the first place? Is what the trio wanted to know. By all accounts, the Space Union of Sapient Species should have freaked out at their existence. I mean, wouldn¡¯t you freak out if you met a seemingly ¡°normal¡± human who turned out to be an alien all along? Well, that¡¯s just human perspective. Ya now? In truth, the xenos had no qualms with what their smol neighbours had created in the Union¡¯s image, since thousands of years of communal interaction and living had desensitized them to most of the uncanny valley. To them, the trio of (ex-human) xenos were like stranded individuals found in the deep jungle after being raised by animals. They were clumsy, socially inept, spoke in garbled nonsense, prefered the ease of being naked (innocently flaunting their sculptural physique), but, most importantly, they were adorkable because of their smol-like behaviour and rituals. ¡°[Aww]¡± Went the army of observing researchers, once Feathers and Kibbles put on their jumpsuits and joined Noodle in their daily ritual of pass-the-ball and hot potato. Avafarce 4: Names galore In which the writer addresses his own mistake. He was called by many names: Feathers, Nuggets, Featherfool, Nuggetbrain, Chicken Legs, etc. But, none were his real name. His buddies had the same issue. One could be Noodle, or Noodles, or Noodly, or Sweatsoaked Sock. But, of course, they weren¡¯t his real name. The other was Kibbles¡­Just Kibbles. (Huh. I guess he didn¡¯t have the same issue.)(No, wait. That still isn¡¯t his real name.) They had all been assigned the codename ¡°Potato¡± in an attempt to disguise their true nature within messages. But, given the Galactic Senate had already found out the (half) truth of Project Cameron, that codename had become an artefact by now. ¡°Say¡­¡± Said Feathery Nuggets, the (ex-human now handsome chicken raptor) emerald green Karnakian, caressing their toy ball in thought. ¡°Do you guys remember your human names?¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. There was a pause for thought. ¡°No.¡± Said Noodly Noodright, the ruby-red (ex-human now hot model cobra) Jornissian. ¡°You?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± They both turned at their third buddy, Kibbles, the silver-blue (ex-human on-the-path-to-good-boy space wolf) Dorarizin. ¡°What about you?¡± Kibbles shrugged. ¡°(Some call me¡­)¡± Ninjutsued he in sign language. ¡°(Tim)¡± There was another pause. ¡°Oh, fuck off!¡± Said Nuggety Feather, throwing the ball at Kibbles with a grin. Kibbles easily dodged the ball, then stood up, arms open wide in the universal pose of ¡°come at me, bro¡±. ¡°Ishthatashallenge?¡± Said Noodlemort, picking up the ball after it bounced back in his direction. ¡°(Aye! Bring it!)¡± ¡°You are going down!¡± Said Chickin¡¯ Good. And so, dodgeball begun with a flurry of supersonic throws, much to the amusement of the current researchers observing their break time. Avafarce 5: Revenge of the plot In which the Potato Crew actually does testing. ¡°Shankshalot.¡± Said Noodle, crossed. ¡°Shawashouronlyball,youidiot.¡± ¡°You think I did it on purpose?¡± Said Feathers, jogging on a treadmill. ¡°I loved that ball too!¡± ¡°Shenwhydidyouclawit!?¡± Said Noodle, slithering on his own treadmill. ¡°We¡¯vebeenplayingforyearsh!Howcomeyoumesshitupnow?¡± ¡°Accidents happen! Come on, man!¡± ¡°Bah!¡± The two glared at each other, paying little attention to the xeno interns (a pair of Karnakians and a pair of Jornissians) taking data from their run so they could compare it with their physical standards. ¡°Stop being a jerk!¡± Said Feathers. ¡°You think we would be angry at you if you had done the deed instead?¡± ¡°Ibetyouwould!Shinsheyouareajerk!¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s it!¡± Feathers begun to pick up speed. ¡°You wanna go, noodleman? Then let¡¯s go!¡± In a silent yet passionate agreement, the two decided to vent their frustration by competing for the fastest record, pushing their artificially grown xeno bodies to the limit. Clack clack clack swish swish swish Went the room as the friction in the treadmills ascended in power and haste, the two beginning to pant and huff as their bodies overheated. For a few seconds they were equals, but, soon it was obvious that Noodle was struggling to keep up, as his serpentine physiology created more friction against the treadmill and couldn¡¯t cover the same distance without using more energy.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Hah!¡± Feathers puffed in triumph, trying to up the pace as a ¡°who¡¯s-your-daddy¡± gesture to the now slowing Noodle, the ruby-red Jornissian even redder out of anger and embarrassment. ¡°Oh*pant*yeah?¡± Said Noodle, crossed, moving even slower. ¡°Atleash*pant*Icanshleep*huff*knowingIdidn¡¯t*pant*deshtroyourball!¡± ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Said Feathers, now slowing down too. ¡°How many times *pant* do I have to apolo*wheeeeeze* ¡­Ugh.¡± There was a pause, both now moving at frisk pace and exchanging looks, still huffing like steam engines. Then, they both erupted in dry laughter. ¡°Haha,you*pant*shoundedlikeadeflated*huff*teapot!¡± Said Noodle. ¡°Haha,ye*wheeze* ¡­I shink my *pant* shroat ish dry.¡± Said Feathers. ¡°[Let¡¯s take a break, Mr. [Potato Feathers].]¡± Said a Karnakian intern, handing him a bottle of water while the other Karnakian shut down the treadmill. ¡°Thanksh.¡± Said Feathers, downing the drink. ¡°Shanksh.¡± Said Noodle, downing his own drink after his own caretakers shut down his treadmill. It had been a good exercise¡­ And that¡¯s when they noticed Kibbles. ¡°[Mr. [Potato Kibbles], that¡¯s enough!]¡± Said a Dorarizin intern, clutching her tablet anxiously as she stared at Kibbles running on all fours huffing like a mad wolf. ¡°[Stop picking up speed, you are going to hurt yourself!]¡± But, Kibbles didn¡¯t care. His favorite ball was no more, and in his grief, he decided to runaway from the pain until his body gave up. The Dorarizin interns didn¡¯t know what to do. Simply slowing (or stopping) the treadmill would make Kibbles lunge forward and crash against the consoles head-first, so they were left with convincing him to stop. ¡°[Stop, Mr. [Potato Kibbles]. The test is already over for you.]¡± ¡°BRO, STOP(SHTOP)!¡± Said his Potato buddies upon witnessing the treadmill start to smoke, gears screeching in protest. ¡°No pain, only run.¡± Thought Kibbles, vision blurred by tears since the beginning. Then, his arms finally gave up, and he was flung back with a twirl by the vengeful treadmill. Clunk The test was over. Avafarce 6: What’s up, Doc? In which previous events lead to other events. ¡°Tell it to me straight, Doc.¡± Said Feathers in anguish, clutching the Jornissian doctor¡¯s robes. ¡°How bad is it?¡± ¡°[Sir, you are ripping my clothes.]¡± Said the snake doctor, trying to stay professional. ¡°Forget the clothes, man!¡± Feathers began to shake the doctor silly. ¡°How¡¯s my friend, man!?¡± ¡°Calmdown,youfool!¡± Said Noodle, pushing himself between the two to force his fellow Potato to release the doctor. SMOOCH They accidentally bumped mouths due to Feathers¡¯ vigorous shaking (something that put a devious smile on many witnesses). ¡°Gah! What the hell, man!?¡± Said Feathers, stepping back in disgust and frantically wiping his mouth with an arm. ¡°Gheh,shorry.Shishwashn¡¯tsheidea.Nohomo.¡± Said Noodle, cleaning his mouth with a sleeve. ¡°Anyway.¡± He turned to his fellow snakeman. ¡°Doctor,howishourfriend? Ishhetoohurt?¡± ¡°[He¡¯s fine.]¡± Said the doctor matter-of-factly. ¡°[He just needs a bit of rest to let the treatment work.]¡± ¡°Praise the Lord!¡± Erupted Feathers, kneeling down wings open wide, looking at the ceiling with puffed joy. Everybody just stared at him.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Then, he got up in a bounce and began to dance. ¡°Move your body ¡®cause your buddy is fine~? Shake your body, leave your troubles behind~?¡± Only Karnakians could understand his mood, for he had their ability to ¡°see¡± the light of other sapients, their soul. So when Kibbles got hurt in the test room, he freaked out after witnessing his light fading away. Had it not been for Noodle¡¯s intervention, he would have been strapped to a bed for his own safety. ¡°Oh, by the way, Doc.¡± Said Feathers, suddenly calm. ¡°How come my buddies can¡¯t see the lights too?¡± ¡°[What do you mean?]¡± Said the Jornissian doctor, taken aback by his sudden shift and piercing four eyed gaze. But, before he could say more, a huge Karnakian scientist (who happened to be a priest too), appeared besides Feathers to put his heavy winged claw over his shoulder. ¡°[Ah, I see you are ready for the Faith, my child.]¡± Said the Karnakian with that ¡°peace-on-the-galaxy¡± expression typical of preachers. ¡°Huh? Uh¡­¡± Feathers shuddered at the sudden presence. ¡°Maaaybe?¡± ¡°[Perfect!]¡± Said the Karnakian with a huge grin, breaking into a bird song that called forth other Karnakians to join him in what would surely be a fantastic spiritual journey. ¡°No, wait! I¡¯m not ready yet!¡± Said Feathers, struggling in vain against a (surprisingly coordinated) chorus of Karnakians dragging him by the arms. ¡°It¡¯s not even Sunday! Don¡¯t take me away! Avenge me, bro! Aveeeenge me!¡± There was a pause as everyone else stood there while the feathered raptor musical faded away. ¡°[So¡­]¡± Said the Jornissian doctor. ¡°[Your friend is going to be in here for a while, and I¡¯m guessing Mr. [Potato Feathers] will be busy too.]¡± The doctor then beamed with a friendly smile, exchanging looks with Noodle. ¡°[Would you be interested in learning about our culture?]¡± There was a beat. ¡°Shure,whynot.¡± Said Noodle with a shrug. Avafarce 7: Kibbles In which our doggo thinks things. (And the writer reminds you to check They are Smol, its community, and have a good time.) Potato Kibbles was contemplating his existence. In the stillness of the hospital room, it was easy to think alongside the humming and beeping of the medical machines. There was not much else to do, after all. As he laid on his bed face-up with a collar on his neck (the result from literally running at breakneck speed), he reminisced of the early years of the experiment, when getting hurt had been more frequent. Back then, he knew nobody but himself, as he was processed separated from the other volunteers and the scientific team made it clear they wouldn¡¯t form any meaningful bond with him (besides giving him a humane treatment, of course). He had been selected due to his lack of family, low level (former) job, basic spacefaring education, and because he was deemed expendable. Which he knew and accepted. The experiment, he was told, was meant to advance humanity by providing an option to those who wished to be more than human by the end of their lives. That is, grant them an extended chance at life by experiencing it from the perspective of their longlived xeno neighbours. What were the moral and ethical implications of this objective? He didn¡¯t know. He trusted that the scientists had everything under control, and he was made aware of the dangers from day one, just as he was told that his reward would be a billion GRC after 20 years of living as a Dorarizin (in his case). It was only a temporary thing, he believed. And being a hulking space wolf with three rows of ¡°clicking¡± teeth, big meaty paws, razor sharp claws, piercing amber eyes and a fluffy silver-blue furcoat, wasn¡¯t so bad all things considered.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. There were complications, of course. One being his inability to speak any human language due to his mouth and vocal cords exclusively producing the equivalent of a bass-boosted muscle car engine (to put it lightly). The scientists had to teach him sign language as a result, or he would had been left in the dark. Another were his super strength and speed (compared to humans), which caused most of his visits to the hospital bay, even though the scientists had taken the precaution to introduce them as slowly as possible. Smell was also a high contender, as he was too sensible to every single element. So, during his first years as a xeno, he was put in a sterile room and attended exclusively by drones, which gave him odor samples little by little until he could control his ¡°animalistic¡± curiousity. Of course, such isolation would have an effect on his psyche (specially since Dorarizin were a highly social species), so he was also given as much (protected) human interaction as possible, beginning with playtime through The Ball. Oh, how he adored The Ball. It was round and soft and colorful, and bounced everywhere, driving the chase. But, it was also fragile. ¡°Do no rip it to shreds again!¡± He was told once by his caretakers. ¡°Or you won¡¯t get a new one for years.¡± And they spoke truth. When he accidentally ripped another Ball, he was deprived of its goodness as they would not replace it (they couldn¡¯t, the balls were brought all the way from Earth and that requires time and paperwork. But, he didn¡¯t know that.), and he had to endure his free time staring at the wall in solitude. Until he was transferred to the communal room and met his fellow Potatoes, discovering to his joy that they also had The Ball. Oh, what a blessing it was! Through The Ball they broke the ice and learned to play together. Through The Ball they learned to control their animalistic urge and care for fragile things. Through The Ball they learned to endure the boredoom and remain human. Through The Ball they learned to be friends. But, he grew too proud, it seems. And, before he knew it, The Ball was ripped to shreds, turning their friendship sour immediately. ¡°It was my fault.¡± Thought Kibbles, lost in the expanse of the ceiling¡¯s dull paint. ¡°I provoked them into playing rough. Now they are fighting.¡± ¡°¡­I¡¯m sorry, brothers.¡± Avafarce 8: Feathers In which our chickendino thinks things. There was a time when Feathers dreamed of the moment he could meet an alien in person. A time when he used to be another human drone in the system, working on repeat to ensure the continued existence of humanity back in Sol, where xenos were still the minority. What an irony, then, that now he wished to have less contact with aliens. ¡°[Blessed is our day!]¡± Said the priest/scientist Karnakian to his flock, fanning his wings in adoration at one end of the room. ¡°[For we revel in ?ab@h-!@6$...?-]¡± But, Feathers could hardly understand a word from the holy raptor, since his communication bead kept grinding to a halt at every chirp, growl and tweet it couldn¡¯t recognize (and they were many). It was the third day in a row that the Karnakian flock had taken him for cultural education, and while it was a necessary thing (to be fair), he wished they would understand that he did not know their language, and universal translators can only do so much before they give up in digital frustration. So, from his perspective, he was stuck in a crammed room (designed for humans in mind) in the middle of a chorus of wiggling Karnakians, all singing alien praises in a cacophony of reptilian/bird noises that scared him silly.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Just another hour¡­¡± Thought Feathers, teeth clenched in a forced smile as he kept gazing around awkwardly, claws interwined with the claws of his peers beside him (one of which kept giving him the eyes). It didn¡¯t help that he was still worried about Kibbles, since they wouldn¡¯t let him visit him at the hospital just yet. He wanted to apologize for ripping the ball to shreds, knowing his friend was sentimentally attached to it. But, would mere words be enough to fix his mistake? Perhaps getting another ball-No. There were none left, he knew, and the original scientists were nowhere to be seen now, so he couldn¡¯t ask them for help. Maybe, if it could be repaired-But, how? He didn¡¯t know of what it was made and how it was made. Even if he had access to a nanofabricator, he didn¡¯t know how to configure it for the task, or feed it the right materials. Ugh. He was now getting a headache from so much thinking, and singing, and dancing, and praising, and screeching, and getting the eyes. ¡°Just another hour¡­¡± Thought Feathers. Avafarce 9: Noodle In which our snek thinks things. Noodle was not the smartest nor the most knowledgeable. Like his experiment brothers, he was chosen for being another brick in the wall, easily replaceable and expendable (if needed). However, years of working in the office taught him a valuable lesson: always cover your ass. And that¡¯s what he always tried to do, even if the odds were against him. Tick tock Went the soundfont of an analogue ancient clock (A common trigger for autonomous sensory meridian response amongst introverts.), as he kept reading his personal tablet in their communal bedroom, a.k.a. The Potato Den. They were not allowed access to the GalNet due to the controlled environment, so the tablet was a journal to record his thoughts and experiences for his own sanity (Feathers and Kibbles had their own too, but they rarely used them.), and right now, he needed a sanity check.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Frowned Noodle as he read past entries, noticing the decline in his records as time went by. They used to be thorough the first few years. Then, only covered the essentials daily. Then, they focused on important situations and weekly summaries. Then, only important situations and a monthly conclusion. Then, just the important situations. Then, any mundane thing breaking the monotony of their daily schedule. ¡°Ah¡± Gasped Noodle, reaching a part where he wrote someone¡¯s name¡­But, who¡¯s? Not good. Not good at all, he realized, continuing his reading. How come they were all forgetting selective details about their identities at this point? Were they getting too complacent to the point of self negligence? Was it a consequence of their transplant? Or did the arrival of the xenos trigger something in their xeno bodies? ¡°Perhaps all of them?¡± Said a little voice in his head. Noodle agreed. He couldn¡¯t remember everything he was told by the scientists, and the few remaining memories tried to escape his grasp nowadays. But, he was damn sure he wrote it all somewhere in his journal, so he decided to reread it until it was ingrained in his current body. He begun from the oldest entry yet again. Avafarce 10: A new hope In which memories come back. Feathers arrived at the Potato Den dragging his scaled feet, claws screeching in lazy protest all the way. His ear canals were ringing and his brain was still struggling to understand the true shape of an ¡°?aa!@g)+os{P?¡±, whatever it was. If human Sunday school was tedious, Karnakian Sunday school was chaos. ¡°Youlooklikeshit.¡± Said Noodle glancing from his heatbed, still reading his tablet. ¡°I feel like shit.¡± Said Feathers as he let himself drop over his bed, too tired to be rid of his jumpsuit. ¡°Hadanosherfunday,eh?¡± ¡°Urgh¡­¡± Feathers gave up on life, closing his front eyes to let the sweet embrance of oblivion take him at last, all his feathers limping down at once. Noodle always found it fascinating how Feathers¡¯ second pair of eyes remained open at all times, shining in the dark, observing beyond. ¡°¡­If they ask, I¡¯m dead.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Ok.I¡¯lltellshem¡­Paul.¡± Feathers¡¯ headache was abruptly put on background. ¡°What did you just call me?¡± Said he, focusing for the first time on his serpentine roommate. ¡°Paul.¡± Said Noodle, stoic. Feathers¡¯ face tried to contort to the equivalent of a Karnakian¡¯s confounded expression, giving Noodle an internal chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s¡­My name.¡± Said Feathers, the memory reignited after so long. ¡°How-?¡± ¡°Ikeptnotesh.¡± Noodle showed him his tablet with an ¡°I¡¯m that good, bro¡± expression, which transformed into ¡°oh shit¡± when Feathers immediately sprung back to life and lunged forward. ¡°Let me see that!¡± Feathers swiftly took the tablet before Noodle could protest. ¡°Youbetternoterasheany-¡° ¡°Yeah, yeah. Don¡¯t worry. I got this!¡± There was an awkward pause as Feathers quickread the journal¡¯s entries while Noodle anxiously looked by his shoulder. Then, after a while, Feathers turned to his friend with the shiniest puppy eyes Noodle had ever seen. ¡°My God, Cecil.¡± Said Paul, memories long gone taking their rightful place for another moment. ¡°You even recorded the day I got covered in glue, you bastard!¡± ¡°Hishtorymushbepresherved.¡± Beamed Cecil in pride. Thus begun a trip down memory lane. Avafarce 11: The shape of who? In which the mind is reset. Willingness can only take you so far, considering life has a fetish for disaster. Paul knew this (Paul? Was that the name?), and in all honesty he was willing to see the journey ¡®till the end despite the chaotic road ahead. He remembered-no, he felt how it begun with his self being whole, chained to reality in the shape of a human. (Human. That¡¯s how its called). The good scientists had offered him a chance to experience something more than his humanity in exchange for money, and he readily accepted, out of an equal sense of financial need (need?) and a desire for existential acknowledgement. (Of who?) It was a simple task, his mind knew, just accept and guide this new part of you replacing your shape for a while. (A while? Or always?) Gone were the chains of the human. In their place, the great reptillian shape of an apex predator covered in feathers, scales, sharp teeth, razor claws, a long feathered tail, and a whole lot of excess energy. Boundless excess energy, all focused on rediscovering life through his new second pair of eyes that could see The Lights. (The Lights¡­) ¡°What is this?¡± ¡°What is that?¡± Would ask the innocence of new flesh given life at every opportunity. ¡°Settle down.¡± His mind would command. ¡°We know what some of it is.¡± And to prove it, he presented his new flesh his entire recollection of experiences and knowledge, the sum of all his understanding of life neatly packed in a human-shaped can. ¡°Here¡¯s our name, and our family, and where we come from-¡°The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Not important.¡± His new body declared immediately, distracted by its senses and the echoes coming from The Outside. ¡°Wait! Don¡¯t go running yet! Take this with us!¡± His (human?) mind chased after his new flesh, carrying the collection hazardously as his unshaped arms begun to erode, spilling things as he tried to keep pace. ¡°Look what we found!¡± But, his new flesh was more interested in gathering its own new collection, and everything from The Outside was prime material. ¡°Stop.¡± Commanded the mind, reigning in the will to remain, the will to be. ¡°We will not take more without keeping this too.¡± And he handed himself his collection (what was it?), putting it alongside the new experience in their claws. ¡°This won¡¯t do.¡± Said his body, innocently comparing new with old. ¡°This name (what name?) is not the name the echoes call us. And this physique? (What physique?) Not useful now. Let¡¯s just drop it.¡± ¡°No. We keep them. For as long as we can.¡± There was no more time to argue. The mind was eroding away. His new chains of flesh were bigger than those before, and they were slowly reshaping the self in their own image, diluting past self into a fractured blur nobody would call human. (Human. That¡¯s a thing.) He could only will the new flesh to hold onto things for as long as possible, and give them a new place amidst the chaos of being different. But, willingness can only go so far. ¡°[Mr. [Potato Feathers].]¡± Called new echoes. ¡°[Please get up for your morning preparations. The bath is ready.]¡± Potato Feathers (yes, that¡¯s the name) kept his eyes closed, yesterday¡¯s headache and excitement taking their toll on his artificially grown Karnakian body. He clutched his bed and shifted his body in search for comfort. Something was wrong, and it wasn¡¯t just being tired. (But, what was it?) ¡°Comeon,bro.¡± Whispered a familiar voice, blessing a fragile psyche with strength. ¡°Todaywecanfinallysheehim.Let¡¯shgo.¡± Feathers opened his eyes at last, recent memories flooding his mind once more. Today the hospital was open for visitors. Avafarce 12: Broball In which The Ball returns like a phoenix. Kibbles laid in his hospital bed in silence. He was still wearing a neckbrace, but, at this point it was more a formality than anything, since nanotech-based healing had shortened medical treatment to such degree, that theoretically, he should have been out by day two. The thing is, the marging of error that still exists in the form of ¡°secondary effects¡± was important enough that patients must remain under watch for at least a week, lest they develop ¡°nanotumors¡± while out and about. Kibbles was willing to endure the wait. He trusted his new doctors. They had saved his life and they also fed him this delicious meat-flavored paste that also doubled as teeth cleaner (and when you got a lot of teeth and they can move, this little detail becomes a boon). And the nurses were kind-no, enthusiastic about keeping him clean (they seemed to love his shiny silver-blue fur). So, all in all, it wasn¡¯t so bad. He still missed his friends, though. Something inside him was telling him they had to be present or he would begin to succumb to uncertainty. It was a need for familiarity he did not acknowledge before, as it had been years since the monotony of his secluded experience had been broken by chaotic events, such as the arrival of the xenos, the disappearance of the human scientists, his newly self-inflicted accident, and the loss of The Ball. ¡°Separation anxiety.¡± Said a little voice in his head, reminding him of some random fact he once heard as a human. Was that his current predicament? He didn¡¯t know. There were so many confusing things going on. His blur recollection of his past self, his blur recognition of his present self, his lack of consciousness for his future self. He was in a void, pretty much, and his soul cried for an anchor. Any anchor. Swoop The door opened. And his prayers were heard. ¡°Hey, champ! Guess who?¡± Said Feathers, his emeral-green four-eyed chicken-raptor friend, entering the room with a big grin and a bag in claw. Kibbles lighted up immediately. ¡°(Hi, Nuggy.)¡± Ninjutsued Kibbles, tail wagging under blankets.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°That¡¯s also me!¡± Said Feathers, thumb pointing at himself. ¡°Hi,bro.Howareyoufeeling?¡± Said Noodle, his ruby-red snake-man friend, approaching from beside Feathers. ¡°(Hi, Noodly. I¡¯m ok.)¡± ¡°You must be so bored from staying in bed, eh?¡± Said Feathers, both him and Noodle now standing by the hospital bed. ¡°(Yeah)¡± Kibbles gave a sigh, ears back. ¡°Shedoctorshaidyou¡¯llbebackoutshishfriday,shohanginshere,buddy.¡± Kibbles smiled thin, but his eyes revealed a feeling that had returned behind his relief at seeing his friends. ¡°(I¡¯m sorry, guys.)¡± Signaled Kibbles, ears down. Feathers and Noodle stared at him puzzled. ¡°Don¡¯tbe.¡± Said Noodle. ¡°Shishishjushpartofshetreatment.¡± ¡°(No. I¡¯m sorry for provoking you.)¡± Kibbles was now ashamed. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Said Feathers, smile gone and head tilted. ¡°(I provoked you into playing rough. And it ended in our ball destroyed and you two angry.)¡± He paused, his presence becoming smaller. ¡°(It was my fault.)¡± ¡°Ah¡± There was a collective realization between Feathers and Noodle, and their expressions revealed pent up shame now. ¡°That¡¯s, uh¡­¡± Said Feathers, words escaping his grasp. ¡°Itwasheveryoneshfault.¡± Said Noodle, acknowledging his own responsibility. ¡°I¡¯mshorryforbeingafool,guysh.¡± ¡°Me too. I¡¯m sorry for destroying our ball¡­¡± There was a pause for shared shame. Then, mutual silent understanding made its way sheepishly, as the trio exchanged smiles of embarrassment at the realization that the whole matter was kind of silly, all things considered. ¡°Ehem¡± Noodle suddenly elbowed Feathers, shaking away the awkwardness. ¡°Showhimwhatyoumade.¡± Said him to his Karnakian buddy. ¡°Oh, right.¡± Feathers reached a claw inside the bag he was carrying. ¡°I, uh, tried to fix the ball too.¡± And from it, he took out a bunch of feathers and leather scraps glued together in the misshapen form of a ball. ¡°It¡¯s not my best work, but I think we can still play with it.¡± There was another pause. Then, suddenly. ¡°Hue, hue.¡± Kibbles laughed in metal bass. ¡°HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE¡± Feathers and Noodle exchanged looks of nervous surprise. But before long, they too broke into laughter with their friend. ¡°HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE¡± The Ball was back. Avafarce 13: Painting the space wagon In which the writer finally describes the location. Research Station #DX192 was the textbook example of a cheap, barebones, and easily replaceable ¡°floating blockhead¡± (like all efficient governmental infrastructure must be). Just take a look at the general design plan. We have four points of interest: And All constructed with the cheapest materials and engineering techniques that can still pass a safety-compliance test, despite having the most spartan of living accomodations for the 500 crew members that are required to keep it afloat with duct tape.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It has no self-propelling power, so it depends entirely on ¡°tug ships¡± to move it away from danger; most of its energy is supplied by twin solar satellites that always seem to attract asteroids; and most of its halls and hallways are no bigger than what you would find on a terran sea vessel (the exceptions being wherever forklifts must travel to supply the endless bulks of goods). Truly, #DX192 was worthy of its title of Titanic (MCMLIV) just like its ancestors, because it was a titanic effort to keep it running at all. But, workers being workers, it was also immediately baptised as Tigh Tunic because of its stupid shape and crammed space. And for more than half a century, the human crew endured the constant maintenance misshaps and repair emergencies that threatened the entire station whenever a space pebble cut through the hull. It was no surprise, then, that when xeno ambassadors declared the Tigh Tunic as the newest Mixed-Species Research Station in [Col Vera I], the entire human crew smiled in unison and immediately handed the keys to the nearest xeno before jumping on the Shoe Box and escape to freedom. The Jornissian administrator in charge took zero notice of this collective decision, knowing from before entering the station that she was being handed a piece of junk, and simply ordered the installation of a protective barrier and an army of drones to deal with ¡°unreachable smol spaces¡±. Thus, Research Station #DX192 Tigh Tunic continued its lazy existence with the same haphazard reliability only possible through governmental management, the only difference being the sudden absence of its human creators. Avafarce 14: Equal exchange In which more lore is dumped on the reader. It is no secret by now, that the average xeno from the Space Union of Sapient Species (the Dorarizin, the Jornissians and the Karnakians, as they are known grouped together in general) is about 4 times the volume of a human, thereby, requires at least 4 times the space and resources required for a human¡¯s comfortable living. Thus, as a rule today, all human-made mixed infrastructure must have this minimun space in at least 50% of its design, granting access to all important areas so xenos can move wherever they must go without traffic congestion. This is naturally a boon for all humans, since they are given extra space that may or may not be used at all. But for xenos, this is the equivalent of designing an underground bunker filled with mouse holes you could barely crawl through. And worse still, this only applies to mixed infrastructure. So, imagine the frustration of the new mixed crew of the Tigh Tunic as it settled for duty. You arrive to this remote smol-only station eager to work with your fourth spacefaring neighbour, but instead of being met by an average sized place for you, you are hazardously crammed into a fragile model-scale station that creaks and screeches at your every touch. You soon realize this place wasn¡¯t designed with your comfort in mind (and you have the suspicion it wasn¡¯t designed with anyone¡¯s comfort in mind), and that the only reason you and your crew are able to move about, is because a ? of the station is a network of utility hallways and warehouses that miraculously double as your minimun hallway. Every time you have to go from place to place, you have to watch your body clearance lest you knock off a random pipe or step on your smol crewmate at suspiciously bottlenecked corridors and blind turns. And god help you if you are carrying something and you happen to encounter a fellow xeno going in the opposite direction. Oh, and let¡¯s not forget that using the allotted space for storing supplies robs you of your own living space, so its either the food and gear for your survival or you staying on the hall. So, of course, one of the first actions your crew takes is leaving your arrival ship anchored to one of the available ports to act as your living quarters. Problem solved and everyone happy, right? Nope.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. For reasons that escape you (most likely lack of comfort), the smol crew simply abandons ship one day, leaving you with all the work necessary to keep the station in one piece as it seemingly tries to undo itself. Now, remember that you cannot access the remaining ? of the station, so any time something there needs work, you are forced to use drones to reach the offending site. One of these sites happens to be the control room, which is so-not-for-you that just trying to enter it ripped part of the consoles and now the station lost gravity on half of its corridors, forcing you to install portable gravity fielders at different spots. So, you think. Why even bother with keeping this thing afloat if its original crew deemed it a better option to leave? And that¡¯s when you discover The Potato Crew. Imagine: as you explored this metal trap wrongfully called a station, you stumble upon the miraculous existence of a laboratory that is at least the size and clearance of a community center back home, and at the heart of this place, you find a trio of naked individuals from the Union that have been living like animals in a zoo, only able to move inside a limited set of rooms with glass walls for external observation. This alone triggers a red flag in you. But, before indignation consumes you, it turns out the trio of fellow xenos were not being maltreated at all. It¡¯s just that they were part of a smol project and their smol caretakers didn¡¯t exactly know how to give them ammenities you would take for granted, like clothing. Upon closer inspection, you can¡¯t help but notice that these individuals are in great shape, all things considered. And you could even say they are somewhat attractive. Like, naked-olympic-athletes attractive. Of course, your first instinct is to get these fellows out of this floating time bomb now that the smols are gone. But, for some reason they are scared of you, refusing to abandon their spartan home and rigid schedule despite promises of a better life. Not only that, but their language, gestures and habits are pretty much smol-like in everything, so communication is entirely dependant on translators incapable of picking up social subtleties to earn their trust and convince them to leave. You cannot abandon them now. There¡¯s something just so adorable about witnessing them behave with a natural smol sincerity (as if they had been raised from birth to be smols), that you have to keep them alive until they can be extracted of their own volition or this dead trap is converted to real working conditions. So you reconsider remaining in the Tigh Tunic for longer, now aware of why it needs to be kept working: the link between smol and xeno lives in this station. Thus, begin the strangest couple of months in your career. Avafarce 15: Routine In which we are forced to watch Potatoes do things. The Potato Schedule was meant to last 20 years, and from the beginning, its focus was primarily physical (with only the elementary emotional and recreational therapy sprinkled in between to keep their sanity). Rise and shine to stretches and cardio, guys. Get familiar with your new natural flexibility and endurance, and while you are at it, know that we are not going to force you to do anything. Boredoom will do it for us. Always make sure to eat a hearty breakfast, fulfilling lunch and satisfying diner. As your caretakers, we are dedicated to provide you with enough xeno food to keep those handcrafted bodies filled with nutrients and free of harmful toxins. Keep in mind that you are going to work those muscles from Monday to Saturday, alternating between your top and bottom, working your core and spine, and using all the available machinery we had setup for you in the test room. Culminating your week with a physical checkup to see how far you have grown. But, don¡¯t think we are funless, guys, we also offer plenty of non-exercise activities. Come Sunday, you will be given the chance to speak with our psychologists to release all your pent-up frustrations and find peace of mind again, and once that¡¯s done, get ready for movie afternoon, where our team of MST3K enthusiasts will send you a random film for your entertainment free of charge!Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. But, wait! Think you still got too much free time in between exercise? Have the Good Ol¡¯ Ball and experience the oldest physical human game in recorded history: pass-the-ball. Perfect for playing with friends. But if you are alone, you can always just change it to hit-the-wall. It¡¯s all you gotta do, Potato Crew. And the good news are, you have already done it for 14 years! Hurray! No need for scientists to tell what needs done anymore, the Potatoes know it by heart already. So, who cares if all humans suddenly disappear? They can still work the machines on their own. Hurray! And, who cares if dozens of scary-looking alien predators suddenly replace the humans? The Potatoes are jacked after so much training and will protect themselves despite being afraid of all those pointy teeth and claws and weapons and fighting squads. Hurray! And, who cares if the food suddenly stops coming in? They can-Wait, what? The food is gone? And what¡¯s that? The movies are gone too!? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS. WHERE¡¯S THE SUPPLY CHAIN? WHO¡¯S TAKING RESPONSIBI-Oh? The alien predators are bringing in food? Oh¡­ I guess they are not so bad after all. Hurray? Wait. Where are the movies? UNACCEPTABLE. Avafarce 16: I will survive In which the Potato Crew fight the new chaos the only way they can: with more chaos. In the rec room known as Potato Fun stood three xeno individuals who refused to wear their clothes today, a ruby-red Jornissian, a silver-blue Dorarizin, and an emerald-green Karnakian, all forming a triangle as if summoning some ancient eldritch abomination only known to them. They were also passing a deformed feathered ball amongst them. ¡°It is Sunday, my dudes.¡± Said Potato Feathers matter-of-factly, eyes suspiciously shadowed by a dark aura. ¡°Yesh(Yes)¡± His Potato buddies, Noodle and Kibbles, nodded, that same dark aura covering their eyes too, the feather ball never stopping its clockwise travel between hands. ¡°And yet¡­¡± Said Feathers. ¡°There¡¯s no movie again.¡± There was a sudden drop in energy. ¡°(When will the pain end?)¡± Ninjutsued Kibbles, ears down in depression. ¡°Itwon¡¯t.¡± Said Noodle, acknowledging the hard reality. ¡°Weareonourown.¡± The ball continued its travel in silence. ------ ¡°[Captain.]¡± Said a Dorarizin officer to the Jornissian in charge of Research Station #DX192. ¡°[We couldn¡¯t find any more tiny-chomper stuff to give them. What should we do now? It¡¯s been 4 hours already.]¡± The Captain, one Ms. Arasha¡¯Ssabi, kept staring into the camera feedback coming from the Potato Fun, eyes fixed on the naked physiques that kept exchanging a misshapen blob clockwise. ¡°[What happened to everything we gave them past sunday?]¡± Said she expressionless. ¡°[They hid it somewhere in an attempt to clean the room, it seems.]¡± Said the Dorarizin, checking a tablet. ¡°[Ancestors know were they put it, since it¡¯s not like they have any storage whatsoever. But the question remains, why won¡¯t they use it again anyway?]¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°[It isn¡¯t what they want, obviously.]¡± Said the Captain. ¡°[Should we go with the safety protocol then?]¡± There was a pause, the Captain still fixed on her camera feed. ¡°[¡­Yes.]¡± Said she at last. ¡°[Got it.]¡± The Dorarizin then put a hand on his communication bead. ¡°[GROUNDHOG, this is COREMASTER, seal the mines. I repeat, seal the mines.]¡± ¡°[Roger, COREMASTER.]¡± Said someone from the other side of the station. And the Captain and her officer could see in the video how the automatic door to the Potato-exclusive rooms was sealed from the outside, a squad of xenos standing guard henceforth. ¡°[By Sotek-who-circles-the-world, let it be something innocuos this time.]¡± Said Ms. Arasha¡¯Ssabi, pursing her lips in expectancy at what was bound to happen now. There was a greater pause, the Potatoes inside Potato Fun still passing the ball clockwise. Then, after what felt like ages, it happened. ¡°At first I was afraid, I was petrified.¡± Said Feathers. ¡°KeptshinkingIcouldneverlivewishoutyoubymyshide.¡± Said Noodle. ¡°(But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong.)¡± Ninjutsued Kibbles. ¡°And I grew strong.¡± ¡°AndIlearnedhowtogetalong.¡± ¡°And so you¡¯re back!(shoyou¡¯reback!)¡± ¡°(FROM OUTER SPACE)¡± ¡°I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face-¡° Ugh! Ms Arasha¡¯Ssabi and everyone else (but the officers guarding the door) clutched their hearts at the sight of the Potatoes breaking into a musical and impromptu dance to pass the boredoom, their wild energy and nakedness calling out something deep within every xeno living in #DX192. ¡°I should have changed that stupid lock.¡± ¡°Ishouldhavemadeyouleaveyourkey.¡± ¡°(If I¡¯d known for just one second you¡¯d be back to bother me!)¡± The Captain couldn¡¯t turn away, it was too catchy! Suddenly, everyone rushed to the Potato rooms in hopes of joining the party. ¡°NO FUN ALLOWED.¡± Commanded the guards protecting the door. And riots begun yet another Sunday. Avafarce 17: Logos In which the Potato Crew creates art. The latest Sunday riots had earned the Potatoes a most welcome gift: access to MS Paint on the rec room¡¯s wall projector. It wasn¡¯t actually a gift, per see, since it had the condition of ¡°never sing disco while naked ever again so everyone doesn¡¯t go crazy¡± attached to it, but it was still a welcome change. But, wait. Why did the xenos never grant them more technological ammenities, considering they are not held back by the same experiment rules? Well, even though the xenos loved the Potatoes for their smol-like street cred, ironically, they also viewed the Potatoes as a trio of savages in need of ¡°cultural enlightenment¡± for that same reason. So they wanted to teach them their ways while keeping progress as accurate as possible, and that was easier without access to the wonderful world of memes and shitposts (for better or worse). So, no GalNet for them. On the other claw, the offline tech they could offer them happened to be inside their anchored ship, Starbinder, but the Potatoes refused to leave the lab on the grounds that 1) they were contractually obliged to stay in there, 2) they had no reason to believe it wasn¡¯t a trap and they weren¡¯t going to be eaten alive, and 3) going back and forth through the station would be such a drag since they still had to train all week in the test room. The collective groan of bewilderment and chagrin the xenos let out after hearing such reasons would go on to travel the depths of space like a ghostly echo, spooking traveling ships and remote stations alike. Luckily for the Captain and her crew, this Monday an engineer discovered amongst the surviving smol-consoles a smol-app for painting. And even luckier for the Captain and her crew, the Potatoes immediately accepted the trade for using the app. ¡°Everything will be better now.¡± Was the collective sentiment across the station, as they all looked forward to continue the drudgery of their mission with a semblance of order and decorum. After all, what antics could be done with a paint app? If anything, the Potatoes would either make crappy drawings in an attempt to shitpost, or something with actual artistic merit would surface, but in both conclusions the xeno crew would remain observant at all times. No more temptation of joining the Potatoes in their pagan rituals.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. And that happened to be true for the first few days, in which the Potatoes just messed with the paint app for giggles while the researchers and interns continued their observation. Then the mood took a sudden 180 degrees turn. ¡°¡­Showearealreadypashshefourteenyearshmark.¡± Said Potato Noodle as he scribbled things on the wall in the shape of a diagram that was slowly becoming convoluted and crammed, his buddies, Feathers and Kibbles sitting at the center observing him in silence. ¡°Inshattimeframe,wehaveonlybeenforgettingshpeshificdetailshaboutourpash.¡± But, as if this activity was not enough, the trio were also passing the ball amongst themselves like it was the most normal thing, the deformed Broball lazily traveling back and forth from ¡°presentator¡± to ¡°audience¡±. ¡°Namely:ournamesh,familiesh,birshplaceandbirshdate¡­¡± The impromptu conference was also being closely observed (and recorded) by the xeno crew of #DX192, which managed to fit half its populace in the observation theater after word had summoned them out of curiousity. ¡°Shinceweshtillremembertechnicalshings,likeMathandPhyshics.¡± Continued Noodle. ¡°Andwecanlearnnewshtuff.Ibelieveshisshelectiveamneshiacanbeovercomeifweshticktowhattriggershourmemoriesh.Sho-¡± Noodle begun to draw what appeared to be a logo of some kind. ¡°Intheintereshtofenshuringagreaterchansheofsuccesh,Iproposhewewearanidentity.¡± ¡°Gentlemen,IgiveyouThePotato.¡± A feeling of power resonated through the station. Avafarce 18: I’ll make a Potato out of you In which the Potatoes gid gud. There had never been any confusion regarding the Potatoes and their status as their own ¡°group¡±. Since the moment they were found, everyone knew they had bonded to each other in one way or another, like coworkers, friends, family, teammates, fellow sapients, lovers¡­You name it. They were together and that was it. Even so, that feeling was casual -so to speak- as every crew member of the Starbinder (plus all scientists assigned to the mission) also felt they could easily assimilate a Potato into their own group if they just reached out a claw. (And boy did they reach a claw at every turn.) But now, that feeling was definitive, as that morning the Potatoes entered the test room powerwalking as a unit with their new symbol, The Potato, emblazoned in their white jumpsuits with black sharpie, their identities scribbled on their chests for the world to see. CECIL POTATO NOODLE. Read the ruby-red Jornissian¡¯s. PAUL POTATO FEATHERS. Read the emerald-green Karnakian¡¯s. ALISTAIR POTATO KIBBLES. Read the silver-blue Dorarizin¡¯s. History would later know these were not their original names, as the Potatoes had only adopted these fusion of identities to prevent the last bastion of their humanity from eroding into oblivion. But, for the xeno crew of Research Station #DX192 Titanic MCMLIV, these names would become synonym with a new culture, as they witnessed the ¡°lost savages¡± begin their daily training with a sudden passionate and intensive coordination of militaristic might. ¡°A WISE OLD TREE ONCE SAID TO ME.¡± Said Paul Feathers, marking the pace of the treadmill march, his squadmates repeating after him, and all three using sign language so they would be on par with their mute Dorarizin friend. ¡°TO ROOT MY FEET IF I WANNA BE FREE.¡± ¡°HE TOLD ME ¡°SON, LIFE¡¯S NEVER DONE¡±.¡± Their previous runs always ended at the 100mi goal and then they would take a break as the scientists did their thing. ¡°YOU KEEP THE FIGHT ¡®TILL THE DAY YOU¡¯RE GONE.¡± From now on, they decided to skip the breaks and go straight to the next exercise, focusing primarily on maintaining rhythm of body and breath.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°ONE TWO, ONE TWO.¡± The three fought against their limits, keeping their synchronization as best they could as they worked their core, back and top in reps. ¡°HOLD YOUR GROUND WITH NAIL AND TOOTH.¡± But, the heaviest part was ninjutsuing their chant at the same time, as it forced their hands and arms to add extra stability to their effort (if not outright make it nigh impossible to do). ¡°THREE FOUR, THREE FOUR.¡± Of course, this made the whole affair a circus show of garbled nonsense to anyone reading the sign language, as only Alistair Kibbles was good enough to pull a reasonable (and brief) expression in the nick of time. ¡°TAKE THE PAIN THEN ASK FOR MORE.¡± ¡°This is insane.¡± Collectively thought the xeno crew of #DX192, as the Potato Crew ignored their every warning and kept at their new delusion on their own. And they were right. Their exercise was good enough as it was before, it didn¡¯t need added complications and difficulties to yield results. Hell, it didn¡¯t even need to be done every week to keep them in good shape. The average xeno could remain physically fit by doing the bare minimun of exercise because their cultures already accounted for it in their many habits and customs. Much like earth animals remain fit when they just follow and succeed in their own natural endeavours. But, that¡¯s xeno perspective, ya know? Here¡¯s the thing. The Potatoes were not upgrading their routine just for kicks, they were working on upgrading their physical power and their teamwork by gauging their prowess against themselves and what they all had to offer, because in their little human minds (stretched to xeno size), they were still scared of their neighbours, even though they had grown somewhat used to their presence and their eager friendliness. Picture it like this: a dog is always weary of a strange dog, even if they are the same size, because their fear doesn¡¯t come from the unknown but from the known, i.e. the fact they are both capable of the same level of danger. The Potatoes as humans knew that xenos could be dangerous apex predators. The Potatoes as xenos knew for certain that xenos were dangerous apex predators, for they could be dangerous apex predators now. So it was now an arms race to see who would be the next Top Dog. ¡°[Aww, ain¡¯t them cute.]¡± Said a Dorarizin security officer as she witnessed the video feed of the Potato Boot Camp. ¡°[Ye. I give them a week, though.]¡± Said a Karnakian officer at her side, chuckling. A third officer, a Jornissian, just quietly looked at the funny civilians playing toy soldiers. As trained xenos themselves, they had never been too impressed by the Potatoes and their physical prowess, only their funny antics made them interesting. But now they were putting their foot inside their territory, and if there¡¯s something all military personnel share across the galaxy, is that military wannabes must be given The Boot. ¡°They better not keep this up.¡± Thought the Jornissian. Avafarce 19: The melancholy of Arasha’Ssabi In which the Captain questions her position in life. Ms. Arasha¡¯Ssabi knew she was the pride and joy of her family. After all, she graduated young from the Academy, and through sheer will and discipline, made it through the ranks all the way to captain of her own ship, Starbinder, in less than two centuries. This earned her a pretty pair of lapis lazuli ornaments for her hood, complimenting her lime-green scales. You would think that she was happy and satisfied, right? Hahaha, oh you. Of course there was foul play at hand. While her skill and effort were legit (with a bit of laziness and shortcuts, not gonna lie), the rewards were not without their ¡°irony¡± as a byproduct of an industry filled with ambition and competition. And when your society numbers in the billions for almost everything, you bet your ass competition is high. So, Ms. Arasha¡¯Ssabi, a young Jornissian captain filled with dreams of making great space discoveries and yearning for highstakes galactic adventure, didn¡¯t need to be seen in person by the higher-ups before they knew that 1) she was yet another rookie with delusions of grandeur, 2) they already got too many ¡°discovery channel¡± crews going around, and 3) somebody had to deal with the actual drudgery of running a galactic society, and the ol¡¯ guard sure as hell ain¡¯t cutting it right now. Thus, Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi of Starbinder was immediately issued the most elemental of missions: space station relocation. Yes, I know. You would think that with hundreds of thousands of years of spacefaring experience and technology, all space stations would be self-propelling (and by that I mean capable of propelling beyond a planet¡¯s orbit onto another planet¡¯s orbit), but the reality is that it¡¯s always cheaper to build them without it if they are going to stay in the same relative place for centuries. You can imagine, then, that such a job is low in activity, since the need to relocate an entire space station to a new spot is virtually non-existing (specially if we consider the alternative of just building a new one. And specially if the new one is self-propelling). So, what to do in between ¡°official missions¡±? Why, you take on any cargo available in your sector and become yet another space trucker. Arykins (as her closest confidantes amongst her crew would call her) didn¡¯t take long to shoot herself on the proverbial foot because of her dreamy attitude, immediately taking on jobs that seemed to be ¡°grand space adventures waiting to happen¡±. But, after years of going back and forth through the same boring and safe galatic routes, dealing with the same cumbersome paperwork and samey cynical C&B officials, memorizing the entire catalog of raw materials moving in the sector, and over all, dealing with a slowly-getting-tired-of-your-shit crew; Arykins soon learned that she was not getting that magical journey through the cosmos (unless putting on a perpetual ¡°resting bitchface¡± could be called a journey). ¡°<¡­And how long ¡®till that side is reinforced?>¡± Said Arykins, working on her console with the enthusiasm of limp spaghetti.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°[10 hours.]¡± Said a Karnakian engineer from outside the station. ¡°[But, it won¡¯t stop the main support from cracking eventually. I still suggest we-]¡± ¡°¡± Arykins looked at the screen of a supply order that refused to change delivery status. ¡°¡± "Eventually." ¡° ¡°[That would only make the other hallway more congested, and put more strain on its own framework ¡®till it busts.]¡± ¡°¡± She tried to take a sip of an already empty drink, noticed her mistake, then nonchalantly threw the can on a bin. ¡°¡± PWISH Went a new fresh can of goodness. ¡°[Ok. I¡¯ll let you know when it¡¯s done.]¡± ¡°¡± With the chat over, Arykins just returned her console¡¯s screen back to the main desk. This was the same drill as every other day: chat with engineering about the current state of smol deathtrap #DX192 and its neverending quest of self-inflicted doom, check on supply deliveries and other wonderful paperwork, chat with officers in charge of supervising the remaining crew, ensure everything is stable enough so accidents don¡¯t kill people, and just stall boredoom long enough ¡®till something fun (generally Potato related) happened. That last part was perhaps the light at the end of the tunnel, as it was both a reminder of her ¡°official job¡± as a Station Relocator and the (hopefully true) exotic space adventure she was yearning for. Indeed, she did feel a bit of happiness when she was finally put on a mission that would be officially recognized in her records. And she was even more excited when said mission was relocating a smol space station to a better and safer spot. Unfortunately, she soon realized the job was just as botched as the rest of them, as said smol station turned out to be a piece of junk that would fall apart at the very moment you stopped looking at it, making transport practically impossible. Then, she got the news that she was now going to be in charge of it, as it was now a Mixed-Species Station and they needed an administrator in short notice. Then, its smol crew abandoned the wretched thing without so much as a ¡°thank you for your help, see ya next Tuesday¡±, and now it was her responsibility to keep its alien technology as intact as possible despite having zero clue about what makes it tick. (She took a loooong sip of her drink just for remembering that.) It would all be in vain if it wasn¡¯t because it also let her meet The Potato Crew and (whom she thought) their leader. Arykins nonchalantly pulled up a small video on her console, where a certain ruby-red Jornissian danced in all his naked glory. ¡°Stupid Sexy Savage.¡± Thought the Captain with a hungry look. Beep beep An emergency call came on. ¡°¡± ¡°[Captain! The Potatoes just attacked one of our guards!]¡± Said the Dorarizin officer. ¡°¡± Commanded Arasha¡¯Ssabi. And she was sent a video of her ruby-red Jornissian being confronted by another Jornissian outside Potato Fun, the two glaring at each other before Cecil Noodle decked the Jornissian guard in the face and disappeared inside his turf, jamming the doors shut. Arykins dropped her drink. Avafarce 20: War face In which Papa Snake awakens. Of course it had to be on Sunday, why did she thought otherwise? The past month of relative ¡°peace¡± was but a ruse, a delusion of her own. Normal people don¡¯t just begin a strange militaristic lifestyle without planning something down the line, specially if they are The Potatoes. She should have seen this coming. ¡°¡± Said Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi, arriving in combat gear at the farthest end of the hallway outside Potato Fun, where a squad of seven guards and two paramedics were attending the trio of guards attacked by Cecil Noodle, the Jornissian of the Potato Crew. ¡°[Officer LANCER was hit by [Potato Noodle] after provoking him, according to the recorded feedback from their personal cams.]¡± Said Dorarizin COREMASTER, Head of Security, with little sympathy for his three subordinates. The Captain immediately caught the implication behind his attitude, and as the feedback was sent to her visor, she looked at the trio of guards sitting by the wall. Two of them, a male Karnakian and a female Dorarizin, were looking at her with a mix of anxiety, fear and shame, while the third one, the Jornissian ¡°victim¡±, was being treated for a broken snout by the paramedics; all three stripped of their weapons and cuffed. The video feedback of three cams kicked in. ¡°[Alright, alright. Here they come.]¡± Said the Karnakian (identified as ARCHER in the feed) giggling. From the different perspectives, the Captain could deduce they were standing behind a corner at the utility hallway that connects the ¡°cultural exchange halls¡± (storage rooms hastily converted into classrooms) with the laboratory, the farthest distance the Potatoes were willing to go under her crew¡¯s request. Seconds later, the Potatoes made their appearance, being followed by a handful of interns who wanted to keep their cultural exchange going, everyone trying to pass each other inside the crammed corridor as the Potatoes just powerwalked in silence. Then, the trio of guards came out of their hiding spot. ¡°[Alright, everyone. That¡¯s enough.]¡± Commanded the Dorarizin (identified as MACER) as they approached their targets. ¡°[We got orders to escort these fine gentlemen back to their living quarters, so go back to your posts. Thank you.]¡± She brandished her (stun-only) weapon to dissuade the crowd from following, and they turned tail in a sheepish hush, pushing each other along the way. ¡°[Well, that was easy.]¡± Said ARCHER, positioning himself next to his fellow Karnakian, Paul Feathers, while his battle buddies took their own parallel escortees. ¡°[Ain¡¯t you guys just glad we are here?]¡± He nudged his escortee with a playful elbow. ¡°[You were almost eaten alive back there, you know?]¡± Paul just gave him an awkward look as he followed behind his brothers. ¡°[Yeah. It must be hard being so popular, eh?]¡± Said MACER. ¡°[Lucky for you, we are certified trained soldiers.]¡± She leaned closer to Alistair Kibbles, her escortee. ¡°[Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll keep you safe, cutie ham~?]¡± ¡°[(No, thanks.)]¡± Ninjutsued Alistair, ears back. ¡°[(I¡¯m already with GEICO.)]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER, escorting Cecil Noodle at the front. ¡°¡± There was a bout of not-so-subtle chuckles. Ugh. It was a misguided case of The Boot, Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi understood right then and there. She kept watching the record, noticing the Potatoes¡¯ facial expressions and tense body language, the (unauthorized) convoy on it¡¯s midway point by now. ¡°¡± Said LANCER. ¡°¡± He radiated a smug aura. ¡°¡± ¡°[Yeah, you guys may have been at it for a while.]¡± Said ARCHER. ¡°[But, it doesn¡¯t mean shit if you can¡¯t measure up.]¡± ¡°[How are they supposed to measure up, guys?]¡± Said MACER, continually stealing glances at her escortee. ¡°[They¡¯ve never seen a real training¡­yet.]¡± ¡°[Oh, I know!]¡± ARCHER then put his arms and gun behind his neck in a carefree manner. ¡°[Why don¡¯t we show them?]¡± ¡°[What a fantastic idea~?]¡± By then they had nearly arrived to Potato Fun, before LANCER cut them off. ¡°¡± He looked down at Cecil, blocking his path. ¡°¡± He got closer to his face, hood flared out. ¡°¡± ¡°[No.]¡± Said Cecil with a glare, a hint of fear clear in his eyes. ¡°¡± LANCER mockingly backed off, and Cecil took the chance to gesture his brothers and let them slip-by straight to Potato Fun. ¡°¡± He got back on his face. ¡°¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Cecil said nothing, maintaining eye contact with his parallel and circling around to bypass him. At this point, Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi recognized the first video feed she was sent after being called, when the ruby-red Jornissian from the Potatoes was confronted by LANCER. But now it was obvious Cecil Noodle was in fight-or-flight mode. ¡°¡± Cecil said nothing, torso now turned clockwise 45 degrees, arm locked with tension. ¡°¡± LANCER raged at his escortee. ¡°¡± Said the Captain at last, zero emotion in her tone. ¡°[Yes, ma¡¯am?]¡± ¡° ¡± ¡°[Yes, ma¡¯am.]¡± COREMASTER gestured to some guards to get the offenders on their feet. ¡°[You heard the Lady. MOVE.]¡± And with that, half the present party left the hallway for the Starbinder. The remaining guards observed in silence as the Captain approached the door to Potato Fun, her calm demeanor concealing her inner cries of FUUUUUUUU-WHY DID THIS HAPPEN? Months of work trying to gain the trust of these funny (and crazy) savages, only for a trio of frustrated rookies with too much ego to undo it all in one day. ¡°The Boot is to challenge them to step up, not to step on them, you idiots.¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi raged inside. She stopped at the door and let out a heavy sigh, trying to come up with a way to fix things. ¡°Ok, ok. I can manage this.¡± She clutched her head in thought. ¡°I just tell them the truth and they will understand that we are all friends and this was all just an unfortunate act by rogue agents and it won¡¯t ever happen again and they are safe and they got nothing to fear. Just like I have told them before. And before that. And before that. And-¡± Yeah¡­She already knew the Potatoes were not going to trust her. But she still had to try. ¡°<[Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki]?>¡± The Captain put a claw on her comm-bead (a gesture that was more for her peace of mind than anything) reaching out to her best ally: mission control. ¡°¡± ¡°[Sorry, [Arykins], but they holed up in their Den and covered all available cameras.]¡± Said a worried female voice on the other side. ¡°<[Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki]. This is an official record. Don¡¯t call me by my nickname.>¡± ¡°[Oh, my apologies, Captain. It¡¯s just¡­]¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki trailed off. ¡°[I saw the video feed of when they entered Potato Fun. Their scared expressions¡­I¡­They¡­They looked like cowering [error:unknown].]¡± The last word was an animal that could best be described as a ¡°space fuzzy bunny¡±, and Arykins knew what she meant. (She had just seen the confrontation itself, after all.) There was a pause. ¡°[¡­Are we really that frightening?]¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, unable to understand how three grown xenos could fear their own kind to such degree. ¡°¡± Arykins let out a sad sigh, gesturing one of the guards to open the door to Potato Fun, knowing her targets were a room deeper in their quarters. ¡°¡± They entered the rec room and immediately noticed (and dismissed) the group of xeno scientists and interns that were looking worried from the observation theater behind the glass wall. ¡° ¡± ¡°[Channel open, Captain.]¡± ¡°¡± Ventured Arykins. ¡°¡± ¡°[Goaway¡­]¡± Answered a chilling voice over the sound of whimpers. ¡°¡± ¡°[Leaveushalone¡­]¡± ¡°¡± ¡°[Leave.]¡± Arykins paused to process her next move. On one hand, leaving them alone would allow them to cool down and perhaps later they would approach her on their own accord. On the other hand, she needed to know their current status, and without the cameras, she had to intrude on their privacy to ensure they did not need medical intervention (at least, not physically). She gestured a guard to override and open Potato Den. GOREEP The door disappeared. ¡° Within the darkened room awaited a ruby-red figure of primal rage protecting his shivering brothers behind a set of sharp fangs, his fully flared hood giving him a looming presence that hid an arched spine ready to unleash its tense power at the smallest sign of danger. From his mouth escaped a low warning hiss, a pair of amber eyes focused on the intruders with the intensity of a sun, carving in their souls a single message: take a step and it¡¯ll be your last. ¡°[LEAVE.]¡± Said Cecil Noodle. GEEROP The door closed again. The Potatoes didn¡¯t need a medic. Avafarce 21: Doctor Feelgood In which an older Papa Snake comforts a younger Papa Snake. ¡°¡± Said Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi holding a cup of tea, her scales drained from all heat and color by sheer shock. ¡°¡± The older Jornissian attending her gently pushed the cup in her hands in a gesture of ¡°drink up, is good for you¡±, then said. ¡°¡± He got up, picked up his medical kit, then went ahead on his mission to see the Potato Crew. ¡°¡± And with that, the Doctor left the nurses watch over the unsettled Captain and her guards, and entered the forbidden zone. An omminous music could be hear coming from inside Potato Fun even before he had opened the door. Then, he was met by a fog slithering through the ground as soon as he entered the room, every light gone except for a single lamp flickering above the door to Potato Den like an ancient derelict of innocent times, or a warning. A low droning sound could be heard somewhere in the room. Then, a thunder! And another thunder. And another, and- ¡°¡± Said the doctor to the prankster hacker amongst the young interns still observing on the other side of the theater¡¯s glass panel. He had noticed their presence amidst the darkness because of their heat signatures. ¡°¡± The lights went on, the music stopped, and so did the party fogger barfing its contents from a wall, allowing the old snake man to give a judgmental glare to the now embarrased interns, who then scattered out of the observation theater. ¡°¡± Said the doctor annoyed. Without missing a beat, he calmed down and reached for the Potato Den, touching the digital panel to open the door with no previous announcement to those inside. A figure of death embracing a Karnakian and a Dorarizin rose up to confront the intruder, issuing a warning hiss. ¡°¡± Said the doctor with a calculated tranquility characteristic of his profession, paying little mind to the danger being offered by one of his patients. ¡°¡± He left his medkit near the door, subtly stripped something from the wall, and turned to look at Cecil ¡°Danger¡± Noodle. ¡°¡± And with zero fucks to give, the snake doctor stared down his fellow snake man, his face a clear message of ¡°Look, kid, I stare Death in the eye as my job. Try better.¡±, a testament of his age and field experience. Cecil relented enough to stop hissing, feeling the pressure of the xeno doctor¡¯s humanlike ¡°dad stare¡±. ¡°[Doc!]¡± Suddenly cried Paul Feathers from amongst his brothers, his previous frightened face leaving space for a faint smile. Alistair Kibbles perked his ears at the call, then smiled with relief at the sight of the Jornissian doctor, tail wagging. ¡°¡± Said The Doc, expressing the equivalent of a snake¡¯s raised eyebrow and warm smile. ¡°[Me!]¡± Said Paul Feathers, getting up to meet with their (only remaining) doctor for their routine physical checkup. Meanwhile, Alistair Kibbles sat down next to Cecil Noodle, the latter now less angry but still concerned, both awaiting their turn. ¡°¡± Said Doc, setting up shop while Paul begun to rattle whatever info he still remembered with relieved eagerness. This was a sample of normalcy and constance. Safe normalcy and constance. The Potatoes had been accustomed since the beginning of the experiment to be visited by medical officers of all kinds, some good, some ¡°bad¡±, but all of them willing to take care of their health. It was perhaps the only reason why they could ¡°bond¡± with the medical team so quickly, compared to the rest of the xeno crew of #DX192. In their eyes, the Jornissian doctor was no more different than a human doctor, despite being a huge dark-green boa-faced snake man wearing a white jumpsuit. He radiated a fatherly presence that always said ¡°I¡¯ll keep you safe¡± without words, and that put their fears to rest. ¡°¡± Said Doc as he nonchalantly checked on Paul¡¯s torso, referencing some Jornissian boogeyman. ¡°¡± ¡°Guh¡± Sputtered Paul, suddenly remembering the previous event. ¡°[We-we¡­We almost got killed!]¡± ¡°¡± ¡°[The Agents.]¡± Whispered Paul. ¡°[They found about the plan.]¡± Doc stopped for a second to meet the Karnakian in the eye, noticing his sincerity (and the heavy signs of a tired mind). ¡° Whispered he, recalling previous private conversations with his patient. Paul just nodded. The doctor nodded once in silence and continued his work, committed to his role as a peacekeaper. He knew his patient was being delusional, but he wouldn¡¯t say that to his face, that would be unprofessional. So, he just redirected his attention to mundane health questions. ¡°<¡­There we go.>¡± Said the doctor after finishing his first checkup. ¡°¡± He gently nudged Paul in the arm before gesturing Alistair to step forward, leaving Cecil last on purpose. ¡°¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Alistair Kibbles got up with a nod, his wolf body expressing submission before the snake man. ¡°[(Hello, doctor.)]¡± Gestured he in sign language. ¡°¡± The Jornissian welcomed the shy Dorarizin with a gentle bow, beginning his second checkup as Alistair Kibbles answered him in hardcore ninjutsu speech. ¡°[(I feel afraid and weak. It¡¯s no longer safe, doctor.)]¡± ¡°¡± Whispered Doc staring into his eyes, noticing the contrast between his tired face and his energetic paws. Alistair was pushing himself to keep his only means of communication effective. ¡°[The Beast is out there.]¡± The doctor nodded in silence and continued his work, henceforth filling the checkup with the occasional mundane question. He knew now the delusion was caused by exhaustion. Meanwhile, Paul had gone to retrieve Broball from one of their beds, now feeling secure enough to lay down and play. Cecil remained concerned and serious, but upon noticing his Karnakian brother gesturing him to catch Broball, he calmed down some more to allow Paul to enjoy the game as the doctor finished with Alistair. ¡°<¡­There we go.>¡± Said Doc after a while, nudging Alistair away to call Cecil at last. ¡°¡± Whispered Doc with fatherly concern, knowing well that even if the younger snake was also delusional, at least he would give him a better clue of their situation. Cecil did not respond, but his temperature drastically dropped. A sign of guilt and inner conflict, the doctor knew. The question lingered in the air as the doctor kept focus on his work, only breaking the silence with a few more health related questions. Until- ¡°[Ifoughtback,doctor.]¡± Whispered Cecil. ¡°¡± Whispered Doc, latching on the opportunity. ¡°[Mybroshers¡­Sheywereafraid.Icouldfeelit¡­]¡± ¡°¡± ¡°[Sheirintent¡­Itwashdifferent¡­Itwashafterush.]¡± ¡°¡± Ventured the old Jornissian, now patching up time with random checkups to keep Cecil present. ¡°[No,shesecurityoffishers¡­]¡± Said Cecil, staring into his parallel¡¯s eyes. ¡°[Sheycamefromnowhere¡­Sheyfelt¡­off.]¡± The doctor nodded in silence. ¡°[Ihopedsheywouldgoaway.Sheyweremakingushnervoush.But,sheyblockedshewaybeforewewereshafe.]¡± Cecil begun to break down. ¡°[Shen,sheytargetedme.]¡± The doctor felt a shift in his patient¡¯s tone, a hint of guilt. ¡°[SheyknewIwashresponshibleforshechange.SheyknewIwashbehindourdeshiretogetshtronger.Sheywereheretopunish.ButsheywouldpunishmybroshersforMYdecishion.]¡± ¡°[Icouldn¡¯tletithappen.Ishnotsheirfault,doctor.Ishnotsheirfault¡­]¡± The doctor nodded in silence, patting Cecil on the shoulder. ¡°[Iwashonlytryingtohelpushsurvive.Ididnotwanttofight.ButIprovokedshem,IknowIdid¡­]¡± ¡°[IshawachancetoletshemescapeandItookit¡­Itriedtoleavetoo,butsheywerepisshednow¡­ShoIshteeledmyshelfforsheend¡­]¡± He sighed, the weight of the world upon him. ¡°[Wewereneverready,deshpiteourhardwork¡­Weweren¡¯tready¡­AndIfelttired¡­Ifeeltired¡­ButIcouldn¡¯tletitreachmybroshers¡­]¡± ¡°[ShoIfoughtback.]¡± The words resonated. Cecil sheepishly raised his right fist and the doctor proceeded to examine it. The young Jornissian flinched at some slight probing, proving he had hurt his wrist doing his only punch (a common injury for untrained combatants), so the doctor applied some ointment and wristcast to heal it. ¡°[Iknowsheywereundeterred.Andtheyweremore.]¡± Said Cecil with paranoid concern. ¡°[Afterawhile,sheyfollowed¡­Iknowitwashshem.]¡± ¡°¡± Ventured Doc. ¡°[Icouldfeelapreshenceoutshide.Ittalked,butIcouldn¡¯tdistinguishit.Butitwantedtoenter.]¡± ¡°¡± ¡°[Shedooropened¡­Iundershtoodsherewashnoweretorun¡­]¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°[ShoIpreparedtofightback.]¡± There was a brief pause as Cecil felt his body give in to the exhaustion, his head and gaze losing strength. ¡°[Idon¡¯trememberafterwards.Onlythatyouarrivedhere,doctor.]¡± ¡°¡± Said the doctor, understanding how Cecil¡¯s own exhaustion had blinded his judgment of the situation. ¡°¡± The doctor heard a female voice say in his comm-bead as he crossed Potato Fun, fully aware that his captive audience (thanks to a camera he had freed from its cover on the wall) would demand answers. ¡°¡± The doctor chuckled to himself, exiting the forbidden zone. ¡°¡± Said Arykins, clutching her head while other listeners began to giggle at the implication (her journey as captain was still too young for her own good). ¡°¡± ¡°¡± ¡°¡± And thus, The Doctor mended yet another injury in the world. Avafarce 22: Meeting In which the writer makes it clear there are no villains here, only fools. Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi found herself in yet another stupid conundrum, and all because the offending officers in question did not have an obvious ¡°we are evil¡± sticker on their backs. ¡°¡± Concluded the Captain about the medical report. The Head of Medical Staff nodded in silence. ¡°¡± She concluded about the career report. The Head of Security nodded in silence. ¡°¡± Captain Arykins sat back to look at her two confidantes in this matter. ¡°¡± ¡°[The evidence seems to support that.]¡± Said COREMASTER, Dorarizin Head of Security (and goodest boy of Starbinder). ¡°[I have no personal issue against pranks amongst my team, but it baffles me they would target civilians this time. That, I cannot ignore.]¡± ¡°¡± Said The Doctor, Jornissian Head of Medical Staff (and certified Papa Snake). ¡° ¡± ¡°¡± Said the Captain, sipping a cup of tea. ¡°¡± ¡°¡± Said Doc, sharing a medical report on a projector wall in the meeting room, and the others turned their attention to it. ¡°¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°[They have good synergy with the rest of the team.]¡± Said COREMASTER. ¡°[They still think they fucked up, but they are willing to give them a different kind of punishment for it. As for others, we haven¡¯t received any complaints, far as I know.]¡± ¡°¡± Said Arykins, putting her cup down on the room¡¯s big nondescript table. ¡°¡± There was a pause for thought. ¡°[Hmm¡­If we discharge them it means transfering new recruits to replace them.]¡± Said COREMASTER, paws together in deep thought. ¡°[That would undo the dynamic we have built these past years. Not to mention the paperwork and necessary training to get them up to speed with our specific mission.]¡± He leaned back. ¡°[On the other claw, this incident may have soured the crew¡¯s image of its security staff, and if we don¡¯t make a proper example of it, they may start to question our discipline and trustworthiness.]¡± ¡°¡± Ventured Doc. ¡°¡± ¡°¡± Said the Captain, raising the equivalent of a snake¡¯s eyebrow. ¡°¡± Said Doc. ¡°¡± ¡°¡± She took her cup and drinked a sip from it. ¡°¡± ¡°[Obligatory retraining, for starters. Zero weapon privileges until complete.]¡± Said COREMASTER. ¡°¡± Said Doc. ¡°¡± ¡°¡± Said Arykins leaning back and looking up, caressing the cup in her hands. ¡°<9 months sounds good to you?>¡± ¡°[Sure, that might let the crew get used to them again. And it¡¯s ample time to evaluate their progress.]¡± ¡°¡± Said Doc. ¡°¡± ¡°¡± Concluded Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi. ¡°¡± ¡°[Aye]¡± Avafarce 23: Brotherhood In which Potato together strong. Everything was quiet inside the dark room save for the soft waves of breathing coming from the pile of sleeping (ex-human) xenos, the trio huddled together for warm and safety. You would think one of them was awake, given a pair of amber eyes remained open and present in the darkness like starlights gazing at the never-ending void. He was not. He just happened to have an extra pair of eyes he could not close due to his new species¡¯ quirk. That said, one of the trio did awake in the silence of their existence. Cecil Potato Noodle was still tired like his brothers, but his guilt-ridden mind did not let him rest despite his best efforts, so he gave up after a while and reopened his eyes to stare at the vast expanse that can only be seen in a dark enclosed space. A part of him thought his brother Paul was awake, given his extra pair of open eyes were ¡°looking at him¡± (they were not, since they look at everything), and he wanted to talk to someone about his worries. But his judgment was lucid enough to restrain himself and let the Karnakian sleep in bliss. He was sure that was the right thing to do, after all. Besides, Alistair was also sleeping. He deserved to rest after overworking himself following his encouragement that last month. His encouragement¡­ Cecil was thinking about their bond and how it affected him, both for good and bad. On one hand, he had the feeling they had made him a better person, more empathic than how he was with his own family (if he could remember them beyond a blur) and capable of learning so many things just to remain human. By virtue of being more careful with their everyday experience, they had put their trust on him as their ¡°defacto¡± leader, leaving the weight of most decisions on his shoulders. This made him feel special, needed, and he sincerely wished to do well for their sake. But, on the other hand, he had never been a leader, and being put in such position for the first time often ends with more pain before wisdom is found. He was not the smartest nor most knowledgeable, he knew that. So, he based their new physical routine on what the prior scientists had taught them since the beginning, thinking that he could just modify a few things and it would be fine. His brothers seemed to support this line of thinking, since they followed his encouragement everyday regardless of how difficult or tiring things could get. But, the seemingly positive effects amongst them may have blinded him to the impending negative effects, and his new found pride of being leader certainly distracted him from listening to more experienced voices outside his own. ¡°They were already exhausted by the third week.¡± He recognized in his thoughts. ¡°I just kept dragging them with me because I thought I knew better. But even I wanted to give up.¡± He closed his eyes in reluctant weariness, wishing he could forget and sleep. The recent confrontation with the officers (which he never identified, only felt off) didn¡¯t help his peace of mind.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. How do they do it? How does someone wake up one day and say ¡°I¡¯m ready to be a leader¡±? Cecil wished he knew, because he felt he was taking a responsibility he did not earn, a responsibility that could reach far more terrible consequences if he did not do the right thing from the start. But that was his fear speaking now. ¡­There was a movement in the darkness. A gentle paw reached for Cecil and caressed his back scales with tenderness, and upon feeling it, he saw Alistair¡¯s amber eyes gaze upon his. ¡°(What¡¯s wrong?)¡± Gestured his mute Dorarizin Brother, the darkness unable to cover their bond. ¡°(Nothing.)¡± Gestured Cecil back, years of mutual interaction having taught him sign language as well. He didn¡¯t want to worry his brother. ¡°(Get some sleep.)¡± ¡°(Not without you.)¡± ¡°(It¡¯s ok, I just can¡¯t sleep right now.)¡± ¡°(No, I feel you are troubled.)¡± ¡°(So do I.)¡± Joined a third claw. Paul was awake, his four pair of amber eyes now gazing towards Cecil too. ¡°(I¡­)¡± Gestured the Jornissian in search for an excuse, before his brothers¡¯ collective gaze made him understand he couldn¡¯t hide from them. ¡°(¡­Have I been too harsh on you?)¡± ¡°(No.)¡± Gestured both without a doubt. ¡°(Would you tell me if I ever was?)¡± ¡°(Yes. What troubles you?)¡± ¡°(¡­I worry I have led you astray.)¡± Gestured Cecil, eyes losing strength. ¡°(I¡¯m not a good leader.)¡± ¡°(So what?)¡± Gestured Paul defiant. ¡°(We follow you because we care for you. You might get us in, but we can get you out.)¡± ¡°(We may be having a bit of trouble.)¡± Gestured Alistair with a calm smile, caressing his brothers back. ¡°(But we are still here, together. There¡¯s always a chance to change.)¡± ¡°(Yeah.)¡± Paul gave him a playful fist nudge. ¡°(If something worries you, just change it. Don¡¯t let it eat ya, Sweatysock.)¡± Cecil chuckled at his brothers, feeling his (unwittingly) self-imposed weight getting lesser. He was far from feeling a confident leader, but so what? They wanted him to be at peace, who was he to deny their wish? ¡°(Thanks, guys.)¡± He smiled wearily but relieved. ¡°(I feel better now.)¡± ¡°(Good.)¡± Gestured Paul, suddenly turning to let himself fall over his serpentine brother (who let out an oof). ¡°Now coil up, I need a pillow.¡± He whispered sleepy. Cecil complied, letting his coils soften Paul¡¯s rest. Alistair took the opportunity to use Paul as his pillow, and in a calculated move, he positioned himself in such a way that Cecil could use him as his fluffy pillow. And the three became potato pillows. ¡°Goodnightguysh.¡± Avafarce 24: Can’t smile without you In which peace returns for some time. The unfortunate confrontantion between officer LANCER and Cecil Noodle served as a reminder to the whole crew of Research Station #DX192 to be mindful of the Potatoes¡¯ mental health (for everyone¡¯s sake). The trial of the offending officers was discreet but made public, as it was kind of difficult to hide such interesting events amongst a crew of about 100 that was ¡°one big family of canned tuna¡± for months at a time (and have been working together for years now). The Potatoes were called to give their testimony in said trial, but it was soon apparent that their recollection of the events was a bit ¡°screwy¡± and took a lot of windup just to get to that particular Sunday. The offending officers, for their part, admitted their guilt and responsibility in the matter, issuing a direct apology to the Potatoes and a public apology to the crew as a whole. This helped mitigate the sour feeling left in the crew, and the punishment of 9 months of community service plus obligatory retraining seemed fair enough to most (the rest were the security team, they had other plans for them). After a few weeks, things settled down some more. Even the Potatoes had been relatively quiet about their shenanigans, as their militaristic training had toned down a little and they were more open to listening to advice (at least from The Doctor), so there were less chances of them getting dangerously delusional (everyone hoped). Though, the most important consequence for all were the inspired potato myths that came after. Like the myth that the potatoes could defeat soldiers in one punch, or that they could invoke the spirit of Rakuz-whose-rage-scorches-the-lands on a whim. Nothing but exagerations. (Like the one that says they can charm a whole colony with their wild singing and naked dancing. They have never been out of the station ever, Sstepshen.) Needless to say, Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi was feeling once again at peace, minding her own business in her living quarters inside the Starbinder by working on her pet project. ¡°(¡­Lyresh fell to the ground, her body weak and bruised.)¡± Wrote Arykins on her computer. ¡°(The ?Ba2-9tJ!@? was almost upon her, its bloodthirst insatiable regardless of how many innocent lives it had claimed. She needed to escape but her body betrayed her, anchoring her being to that vulnerable spot. ¡°Oh, how I wish someone would save me.¡± She thought in tears, knowing the beast was near. Growl The eight legged arthropod behemot made its presence known. ¡°This is it.¡± Thought Lyresh, closing her eyes to deny oblivion her witness. But then. A clash of bodies! And the sound of limbs being torn off, followed by a beastly shriek of agony! Lyresh opened her eyes at the sudden shift in her fate, staring in awe at the crimson figure standing in between her and the now staggering beast, the savage male tensed with primal rage as he hissed in defiance against her predator, tossing away the severed leg pieces he had claimed with his bare claws. ¡°Ooh~¡± Something awoke deep inside Lyresh at the sight of her new guardian. Then-)¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Beep beep Incoming call. ¡°¡± Said Arykins. ¡°[Hey there, girl~ Whatchu doing?]¡± Said a female voice on the other side. ¡°¡± ¡°[Oh! Is it an update?]¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, her bestest friend and Head of Communications. ¡°[Can I have a peeky peek? Pleeease~?]¡± ¡°¡± Arykins grinned devishly to herself. ¡°¡± ¡°[Say no more.]¡± Kerykins begun to work her magic from her side. And a minute later, she sent her friend a sample of a special file. ¡°[I got a high quality copy of the best part of last Sunday¡¯s Potato Serenade~ Wanna trade?]¡± Oooh~ Arykins was now interested. ¡°¡± Said the Captain, sending a (Condition Specific Exchange) Link to ensure their respective files were traded equally, both parties giddy with excitement. ¡°[Oh wow.]¡± Said Kerykins as she read the new draft of Arykins¡¯ pet project. ¡°[You went for action this time, huh? Sounds cool, I like¡­]¡± But Arykins was paying her little attention at the moment, since she was checking out her own new file. ¡°¡­And now you know I can¡¯t smile without you.¡± Sang Paul Feathers in her comm-bead. ¡°Ican¡¯tshmilewithoutyou.¡± Sang Cecil Noodle too. ¡°I can¡¯t laugh.¡± ¡°AndIcan¡¯tshing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m finding it hard to do anything!(anyshing!)¡± All the while, Alistair Kibbles could be hear howling a soft melody, compensating his muteness with awoo power. Arykins just let herself sink in. It was not the greatest singing, mind you, but it was warmcuddle-style acappela singing, and their sincerity just made the novelty oh-so-much-warm-and-fuzzy. And when you live in space for long (even with access to the GalNet), anything that resembles a simple life can be a soothing experience. For a little while, life on Research Station #DX192 was good. Avafarce 25: Day of reckoning In which doom is finally stopped. If there¡¯s no sound in space, can anyone hear a Karnakian laugh like a mad kookaburra? Yes, yes, they can. And by they I mean those whose job is to keep watch over their field engineers out in space: mission control. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki and her comm-squad flinched at the sudden outburst from Head of Engineering, Mk¡¯Kre, as he finished his latest activity outside Reseach Station #DX192, his laugh a clear mixture of boisterous confidence and madness. ¡°|HAHAHA WE DID IT.|¡± Said Mk¡¯Kre, his voice somewhat muffled by his tight space suit. ¡°|GEISERFUCKERS, WE DID IT.|¡± ¡°|Mk¡¯Kre, language!| Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, looking at her fellow Karnakian from her console. |This is an official record, remember?|¡± ¡°|Says the pebble to the stone.|¡± The engineer was now floating in between a large net-like structure, directing a team of fellow (and likewise enthusiastic) engineers. ¡°|Oi, [Dregr], start installing the next one over there, this area is done.|¡± ¡°|You know I don¡¯t swear on the job.|¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki. ¡°|But you go on calling everyone by their cutie names, sis. Same result, different technique.|¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki could feel her brother¡¯s smugness through the comm-bead (and so could the others). ¡°|Ok, you got me there, Mikypoo~|¡± She made sure to use an awfully sweet tone, to the mental applaud and audible giggling of the (mostly) female comm-squad. ¡°|Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, what gives?|¡± Mk¡¯Kre deflated his ego. ¡°|I was having a moment here.|¡± ¡°|You sure did.|¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki begun idling in her comm station, feigning pity. ¡°|If only you had remembered to share your joy with us, instead of just laughing mad¡­|¡± ¡°|Share with you? Are you not seeing this?|¡± The floating engineer turned to look at the drone recording their work, gesturing to everything around him. ¡°|Hellooo? What part of this does not look fantastic to you?|¡± On their consoles, the comm-squad could see the near completion of a station-wide net-like structure neatly surrounding the entire space station, the only uncovered parts left being where their ship, Starbinder, was still anchored. Looks good, they nodded to themselves. But, Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki was still not sure why her brother was so psyched up about it, since the structure looked (in her eyes) the same as it did a few weeks ago.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°|You, uh, gave it a new paint coat?|¡± Ventured Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, and her teammates chuckled. ¡°|Sure, sis.|¡± Mk¡¯Kre floated back to the nearest welded union between net and (smol) station. ¡°|We gave it a nice new paint coat, some high quality wax for that shiny finish, and we put one of those dice thingies they love to hang on windshields. How about that for service?|¡± Now the engineering team chuckled. ¡°[Sounds good to me.]¡± Said a female voice calmly. ¡°[Think you could get me one of those dice thingies too, [Mk¡¯Kre]?]¡± ¡°|Ah, hello, Captain. Good day.|¡± Mk¡¯Kre¡¯s professionalism returned just a bit. ¡°|Sure thing, I got them in red and blue. Which one you want?|¡± ¡°[Red is nice¡­]¡± Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi took a sip from a drink. ¡°[Now, about that work you are doing, I take it you have some exciting news for me since [Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki] got me on call?]¡± ¡°|You bet your pretty scales I do.|¡± Mk¡¯Kre¡¯s confidence and pride suddenly boosted through the roof. ¡°|Remember those materials that arrived a week ago? The ones I kept pestering you about?|¡± ¡°[Ye-]¡± ¡°|Those exactly!|¡± The engineer began to gesture wildly as if selling towels on tv. ¡°|Well, thanks to our ingenuity and relentless pursuit against all things fucked up, me and my team have finally achieved the impossible, Captain: we have made #DX192 strong enough to travel.|¡± There was a collective eyebrow rise of ¡°suuure¡±. ¡°|Now I know what you are thinking, ¡°but, Mk¡¯Kre, how can you say that when this deathtrap looks exactly the same as it did a week ago?¡±, and to that I say exactly.| His captive audience was puzzled now. ¡°|The norm was at least one case of minor structural damage per day -if not something worse-, which made this mess of a station one big game of ¡°seek-and-replace¡± up until a week ago, when we reinforced all the main support structures -and then some- with our solution and, huzzah! No more self-destruction for this wackjob!|¡± He gave a few playful taps to a random metal plate. At that moment, the Captain and mission control realized the implication in his words, and how accostumed they had become to the station¡¯s constant implosion that they willfully ignored when it wasn¡¯t doing it. ¡°[Surely you jest.]¡± Said the Captain serious. ¡°|Nope, I¡¯m 100% sure of it. And who¡¯s Shirley?|¡± Said Mk¡¯Kre. ¡°[[Mk¡¯Kre], do you have any evidence for this-]¡± ¡°|Sis, would you do me the honor?|¡± He sent a file to Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki before the captain could finish, and she immediately shared it for all the team to see, displaying a graph of the repair work done to #DX192 since their arrival. ¡°|I double-checked our sensors a week ago and today, and my team has done routine inspections through the entire station checking for old and new damage, they have reported none.|¡± Hope was beginning to grow amongst the audience. ¡°|Based on this report, I calculate that the station will be ready for transport by next week, now that we don¡¯t have to use 80% of our resources just trying to keep it afloat.|¡± Suddenly, Mk¡¯Kre lunged for the camera drone keeping track of his work, getting close enough to let it record his grinning face as it struggled to remain near the station. ¡°|How¡¯s that for some good news, Starbinders? Can ya feel the sunshine?|¡± There was a brief pause. Then the crowd went wild. Avafarce 26: Home alone In which doom returns with a vengeance. ¦®Cecil¡­¦® Whispered the echo from The Outside. ¦®Bro¡­wake up¡­¦® But he didn¡¯t want to move today, not after it had taken him so long to get comfy and (luke)warm in his heatpad. ¦®Cecil please¡­¦® Now he could feel something nudging his scaled back, but he refused to budge out of heat deprivation. For some reason the last few hours had been colder and his heatpad had been losing power too, and as a (chiseled) snakeman, cold was not cool, man. ¦®Please, bro. We are scared.¦® A wave of fear reached his senses. Cecil Noodle awoke with the rage of the ancients. ¡°Behindme,broshers.NOW.¡± Said Cecil as his instincts commanded him to defensively coil around his fellow Potatoes to shield them from an invisible foe. He wasn¡¯t even aware of his surroundings yet, but he was ready to strike back at whatever threatened them inside their only safe den, awareness be damned. ¡°No, Cecil, there¡¯s nobody here.¡± Said Paul Feathers, his emerald-green Karnakian brother, clutching his back anxiously. Alistair Kibbles, their silver-blue Dorarizin brother, also clutched his back, and Cecil could feel their bodies tense and cold with fear. Cecil felt less reason to lower his guard, analizing his surroundings in search for danger. ¡°Cecil, they are gone.¡± Paul tried to get his attention. ¡°They are gone, bro!¡± ¡°¡­Who¡¯shgone?¡± Said Cecil looking by his shoulder after finding the room awfully quiet. ¡°Everyone(Everyone).¡± Paul and Alistair gazed at him with a sincere yet worried look in their amber eyes, their bodies trying to disappear away from whatever was unnerving them, and Cecil knew this was not the usual case of fear. ¡°Every¡­one?¡± He begun to feel uneasy himself. ¡°Yes(Yes).¡± They nodded slowly. Cecil looked around for a moment, his rage replaced by a sinking feeling of something off, otherworldy, the same feeling that preluded imminent danger he was never ready to handle. But he could feel his brothers literally resting their hopes on him, so he had to act now and it had to be with confidence. ¡°Howdoyouknow?¡± Whispered Cecil, relying on gathering knowledge to empower himself (if only a little). Paul Feathers suddenly broke from their group huddle and went skipping towards the door that connected Potato Den with Potato Fun. ¡°(Come look.)¡± Ninjutsued Paul, as if he didn¡¯t want to be heard by some unseen thing. Cecil slowly and silently slithered towards the door, Alistair following a few steps before noticing something at the corner of his eye, quickly sidestepping to pick it up, then return following his brothers with Broball in embrance. ¡°(I¡¯ll open the door.)¡± Ninjutsued Paul a bit shakey but determined to act now that his ¡°big bro¡± was on the case too. Cecil nodded serious, bracing for whatever awaited out there, while Alistair stood anxious like a pup hearing his first thunder. Goreep The door disappeared, and Paul skipped back to the safety of his brothers. Cecil scanned the rec room with cold intent, focused on discovering threats before they could react to their presence. Sound, vision, smell, heat¡­Nothing brought up any living thing to his perception. The room was empty, silent, devoid of any energy flow other than those safety leds that blink to warn you about some failure. Wait. Cecil did a double take and noticed that their den had those lights too. ¡°(Did you check the room behind the glass wall?)¡± Ninjutsued Paul to bring something new to his attention. Cecil turned to the glass wall. The observation theater was also on safety leds, but it was completely empty of anything not nailed down. The xenos were gone (there was always at least one or two) and so was their equipment (snacks and doodads). He ¡°tasted*¡± the air again and found no recent traces of activity in the adjacent rooms and hallways, and he realized the air felt heavier and ¡°stiffer¡± than usual.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°(Can any of you sense anyone out there?)¡± Ninjutsued Cecil to his brothers, knowing their own senses could reach beyond their current room. ¡°(No.)¡± A chill went down the ruby-red Jornissian, which only accelerated his already depleting body heat. ¡°This is an unprecedent event.¡± He thought, comparing all his (recalled) experiences. Not even when the xenos took over the station (and the human crew left) were they in a situation where things felt completely abandoned. The dangerous implications did not escape his mind, and he realized then and there how truly dependant they had been of external input just to survive. And now he understood why his brothers were so scared. ¡°Wegotnochoishe.¡± Whispered Cecil, his body losing motion with each passing minute. ¡°Wehavetofindthemifwearetolive.¡± Alistair and Paul nodded, acknowledging the harsh truth by looking at their big bro¡¯s steeled eyes. Thus, despite their fear at facing literal nothingness, the three did the unthinkable and willfully ventured outside their zone in search for xenos for the first time¡­ Meanwhile. Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi was having a great time at her ship, Starbinder. Upon the completion of the safety net that would allow them to transport their assigned commission (at last), the entire crew collectively decided to pack things up and be ready for travel in record time, emptying the smol deathtrap known as Research Station #DX192 Titanic (MCMLIV) in one day. ¡°It was truly a feat worth celebrating.¡± Thought the Captain, so she allowed her crew to rejoice and cheer in one big ¡°ship meeting¡± before sailing away. ¡°¡± Said Arasha¡¯Ssabi with a drink in claw to those who could fit in The Bridge with her and the other officers (everyone else in attendance through their comm-beads and consoles). ¡°¡± She begun to look around her crew with fondness. ¡°¡± There were a few cheers and nods amongst her crew, but for some reason, the Captain began to feel she was forgeting something. ¡°¡± She chuckled (a little uneasy). ¡°¡± The feeling grew stronger. ¡°¡± She realized their mistake. Time slowed to a crawl as a metal cup ricochets around the floor, spilling its contents in pain as the figure of a lime-green Jornissian female (wearing a fancy red dress to compliment her two pretty lapis lazuli hood-ornaments) contorted in the visage of a known ancient smol art piece called The Scream. ¡°<[CECIL]!>¡± PLOP Arasha¡¯Ssabi fainted from sheer shock. ¡°[Captain!]¡± The Crew jumped into action. ¡°[[Arykins]!]¡± But her best friend, Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, was first to reach her. ¡°[What happened? Talk to me!]¡± ¡°¡± Commanded The Doctor, parting the crowd like snake Moses. ¡°[She¡¯s not responding, what do we do?]¡± Said Kerykins crying, caressing her friend¡¯s head in her lap. ¡°¡± Said Doc as his nurses (who were always priority guests at parties) pushed themselves over Kerykins¡¯ place, forcing her to get up a few (xeno) feet away. The sky-blue Karnakian female (wearing a fancy green dress) stared in silent anguish upon her friend, when a thought crossed her mind. ¡°Wait¡­What did she mean by-¡± And she immediately realized their mistake. ¡°[[PAUL]!]¡± Plop Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki joined Arasha¡¯Ssabi on the floor. ¡°¡± The Doctor glared in frustration upon receiving a new patient. And before anyone else got the same funny reaction. ¡°¡± A wave of hysteria was crushed before it could take off. COREMASTER, Dorarizin Head of Security, also had better experience keeping his cool in times of stress. But when he put the Captain¡¯s final words together with Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki¡¯s, he immediately realized their mistake. ¡°[[ALISTAIR]!]¡± The ice-cold glare of The Doctor prevented COREMASTER from experiencing his first-ever faint in the line of duty (and yet another hysteria wave was crushed). COREMASTER got to action. ¡°[ATTENTION ALL OFFICERS, WE HAVE A CODE L-19*. I REPEAT, CODE L-19. REPORT TO YOUR STATIONS IMMEDIATELY.]¡± The entire crew scrambled to reach their designated spots in seconds, all aware of their mistake now. ¡°[DEPLOY R.A.F.T.* TO #DX192 AT ONCE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT. NOT. A DRILL.]¡± The Chaos Spirit dweling is smol station #DX192 Tigh Tunic had claimed yet another victory. Avafarce 27: Fragility In which the Potato spirit is once again tested. ¡°What is that droning noise?¡± Whispered Paul Feathers to his potato brothers, as the three cautiously made their way through the hallways beyond the Lab in search for the xeno crew, now that the station seemed to be dying. Their first objectives had been the hospital bay and the culture exchange rooms, their most familiar spots outside Potato Base, but everywhere so far was empty and abandoned, and that only brought more attention to every unsettling thing, like the itty bitty noise crawling all around them. ¡°I-Ishink¡­¡± Said Cecil Noodle shivering somewhat, the air and the floor tagteaming to drain his bodyheat little by little. ¡°I-itishshe¡­e-electrishity¡­That¡¯shleft.¡± Alistair Kibbles and Paul were supporting their serpentine brother by the arms, keeping close to relay some of their warm to him, but while the Dorarizin¡¯s fur was a great cold insulator and the Karnakian¡¯s feathers were adequate substitute, they were not great heat radiators. As his bodyheat entered mild hypothermia levels, his mind began to wander in confusion, rendering his senses numb and feeling dream-like. And then, a most intriguing effect was triggered inside him: a memory. ¦®¡±Disoriented, Mr. Vohs? Perfectly normal¡­Just follow the Q line back to Q1 and you will return to your room safely¡­¡±¦® It disappeared as quick as it happened, but its familiar feeling was left lingering long enough for Cecil to act on it. ¡°Q-Q line¡­¡± He pointed with a shivering claw towards the wall, surprising his brothers as his eyes seemed lost. ¡°Fo-follow¡­Q l-line.¡± Alistair and Paul looked at the wall and noticed a series of colored lines like this: ------P3<------>P4------ ------Q5<------>Q6------ ------R1<------>R2------ Though it had been years since they required to follow the lines (which were at every main connecting hallway and room), deep down they knew their significance; so they exchanged brief steeled glances, nodded once, then marched their way through with Cecil in tow to find help together. ¡°Hang in there, bro. We¡¯ll find them. Everything will be fine.¡± Said Paul, courage and hope taking over to fight against the cold and stiff air around them. Alistair shared his sentiments, his rekindled passion also boosting his bodyheat for the sake of his fallen brother, who could barely keep his head up in between shivers. The trio followed ¡°Q6¡± since that was their direction from the beginning (and Cecil didn¡¯t specify that before losing grasp of his surroundings), and they got as far as ¡°Q11¡± before they reached a fork in their path that lead to three new options: two for their level and one for above. Since the third one required to enter a smoler space, it was ignored, so that left two. ¡°Which is Q line?¡± Said Paul looking around at the empty place, breathing harder and feeling exhausted and cold. ¡°(There¡¯s¡­no more.).¡± Ninjutsued Alistair, juggling Broball in his claw so he could gesture since his other arm was busy holding Cecil. Alistair had the best endurance of the three, and with his fur staving off the cold, he only showed signs of mild exhertion despite the decreasing oxygen in the environment. Then, Cecil stopped shivering and went limp. ¡°Bro!¡± Paul caught his head before it hit the floor. ¡°Don¡¯t fall asleep, bro!¡± ¡°hmm¡­¡± Cecil tried to regain his stance, but keeping himself awake was heavy enough that he couldn¡¯t lift himself up. Paul felt what had to be done, and without a word, he put Cecil¡¯s head over his soft-yet-strong feathered long neck, letting Cecil save some strength. Alistair realized he couldn¡¯t keep holding onto Broball then and there. If something else happened (and it would happen), he needed his other claw free. So, he swiftly opened his jumpsuit and stuffed Broball by his belly, closing his jumpsuit just enough, much to Paul¡¯s perplexion. The two exchanged looks for a second, before Paul gave him a thumbs-up.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°What to do now?¡± Thought Paul, trying to take the lead in Cecil¡¯s absence. He looked around for clues when a thought-no, a memory crossed his mind. ¦®¡±How did you get here first?¡± ¡°I just went right all the way. I mean, if it¡¯s not right then it¡¯s wrong, right?¡± ¡°Harr harr. Just get to work¡­¡±¦® ¡°Worth a shot.¡± Thought Paul, nodding to himself. ¡°Alistair.¡± He looked at his brother and gestured to the path on their right. ¡°Do you sense anything from that way?¡± Alistair moved closer to that particular path and begun to sniff away and listen, feeling what little airflow was coming from there with the latest news. ¡°(Zero activity. Left about 2 hours ago.)¡± Ninjutsued Alistair after a moment. Paul could confirm (to some degree) his wolf brother¡¯s conclusion, so¡­ ¡°Check the left one now.¡± And Alistair did as told. ¡°(Zero activity. Left about hour and a half ago).¡± ¡°That¡¯s our way then.¡± Said Paul with a steeled look, and the three set off on their new path. ¡°If you got no right, then use what¡¯s left.¡± Thought the Karnakian with a meek hopeful smile, remembering another thing about himself. Now they were following the ¡°M line¡± which took them to ¡°J line¡± as they relied on Alistair¡¯s keen tracking senses to determine which path had the most recent xeno presence. ¡°At some point we will cross paths.¡± Thought Paul with exhausted hope, fighting against his own weight to (sluggishly) keep pace with his brother while carrying the now unconscious Jornissian on their shoulders. Alistair knew Paul was getting slower, so he slowed down to remain in sync with him as much as possible, but now he was beginning to feel the effects of the cold and slow suffocation, to the point that the flashing emergency lights were giving him a slight headache. CLANK There was a quake across the station, and the trio went crashing against the walls of the hallway. CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK The quakes hammered #DX192. Then, after a KOREEEK, the air pressure shifted. Alistair remained kneeling on the floor for a moment, catching his breath. The sudden hit didn¡¯t hurt him (though it damaged the wall), but the shift in the air left him slightly disoriented. ¡°(Are you-)¡± Ninjutsued to his brother before immediately realizing Paul was now unconscious too. Alistair panicked with cold shock. ¡°No.¡± Thought the Dorarizin, struggling to carry Paul on his back alongside Cecil. ¡°NO.¡± But he tripped under their combined weight, his claws digging into the floor. He knew he couldn¡¯t do this alone, he didn¡¯t consider himself strong enough without their encouragement. Cecil always had a good plan they could pitch in if needed, and Paul was good at improvising on the fly. What did he had to offer? Just muscle, plain muscle. And even that was failing him now. He began hyperventilating, which only robbed him of what little precious oxygen remained. ¦®¡±Alistair¡­Alistair!¡±¦® An echo was brought forward by the hand of Death. ¦®Keep running, son! The goal is right there! Carry the ball! Carry the ball!¡±¦® Carry the ball¡­ Yes. It¡¯s always been about carrying the ball. Alistair glanced at Broball (who was still tuckered safely inside his jumpsuit) and Broball glanced back. ¡°Carry the ball.¡± His panic was cut short, hyperventilation gone, focus through the roof. Alistair took a deep breath, then¡­ GRAAAAWR! He unleashed one last howl of defiance, crawling forward in all fours to carry the unconscious bodies of his brothers more efficiently on his back. If Death wanted their souls so much, he would have to take the ball from him first. SURE. Said the Grim Reaper. And Alistair fell on top of Broball upon crawling just a dozen feet away. ¡°No¡­No.¡± Thought Alistair, anguished by the reality that shouting your only remaining breath away in an oxygen deprived environment was not exactly a self-sustaining tactic (regardless of how empowering it could be). He was pinned to the floor by the combined weight of his brothers. But even so, in his last conscious moment, he smiled. Alistair smiled a smile of acknowledgement because he fought to the bitter end. And, tell me, is that not what his brothers would have wished from him? ¡°[Alistair¡­Paul¡­Cecil¡­]¡± He could hear the angels calling for them now, and he whined a short bittersweet awoo to let them know they were there, and to let them know they should take him first, for he still hoped his brothers could be saved in spite of his failure. The last Potato lost consciousness. Avafarce 28: Insubordination In which irony saves the day. (And the writer struggles with the plausibility of his silly fanfic. We do it live!) Wednesday: 7 minutes after The Realization. ¡°[¡­DEPLOY R.A.F.T. TO #DX192 AT ONCE.]¡± Commanded COREMASTER to the crew. ¡°[THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT. NOT. A DRILL.]¡± ¡°¡± Said one of the comm-squad officers. ¡°¡± ¡°[WHAT]¡± Said COREMASTER confounded, immediately moving to the station of the officer relying the information. ¡°[How!? This should have raised an alarm during the meeting! Who¡¯s out there?]¡± ¡°¡± Said a petite Jornissian lady with terracota-red scales, working swiftly on her console. ¡°¡± ¡°The Beans? Why?¡± Thought COREMASTER in silent bewilderment, staring at the video feedback of three particular officers¡­ Tuesday: 18 hours before The Realization. ¡°¡± Said a Jornissian with sand-gold scales.¡± ¡°[So?]¡± Said an old Karnakian sitting down at the office of the Recycling Sector of Starbinder, paying little mind to his current serpentine visitor as he idly filed some forms. ¡°¡± Said LANCER. ¡°[They are not coming down here, that¡¯s fact.]¡± The feathered raptor gave him a dismissive look. ¡°[Now, go back to work. Once your shift is over you can inquiry all you want about it.]¡± ¡°[Yes, sir¡­]¡± LANCER exited the small office to slither back to the main hub of the Recycling Sector, where a myriad of workstations for breaking apart items and scrap of different shapes, forms and materials, where lined up in a grid. He was a bit miffled that he didn¡¯t get his answer, though he admitted the foreman could just as well know nothing; however, it was his attitude he didn¡¯t like. Granted, the foreman was like that because LANCER and his friends fucked up, but the old Karnakian didn¡¯t need to be so rude about everything now, did he? ¡°[Got news?]¡± Said ARCHER, his dark-grey Karnakian battle buddy, upon seeing him return to their designated work area. His feathers had subtly puffed to attention at his presence. ¡°¡± Said LANCER, getting back to processing old food junk and other garbage on his machine. ¡°[That¡¯s neat.]¡± Said MACER, their reddish-brown Dorarizin battle buddy, without looking up from her machine, tail wagging a bit in acknowledgement of LANCER¡¯s return. ¡°[So when they inevitable show up, we can just throw up our claws and go ¡°Well, shit. How where we supposed to know?¡±.]¡± ¡°¡± LANCER frowned, hood shivering once, recovering his recycling streak as he dutifully separated the junk to its respective preparation stage. ¡°[Do they really think this ship is big enough to stay away from them?]¡± Said ARCHER. ¡°[Can they even convince the Potatoes on getting in the ship?]¡± MACER chuckled out loud. ¡°[Hey, you right.]¡± ARCHER chuckled too. ¡°[How are they getting them out? Are they gonna put them inside a stroller and take them away?]¡± The three shared a few chuckles. ¡°[Oh! I know!]¡± Said MACER. ¡°[They¡¯ll take away their ball and go all ¡°Here, poto~ poto~, come fetch it!¡±]¡± The three laughed, much to the chagrin (but also amusement) of the full-time workers of Recycling (who did share a few chuckles). The comments themselves were born from an innocent insensitivity everyone in the crew shared to some degree, since in their social context, the Potatoes were funny savages that would either act cute and childlike half the time or surprisingly mature and cunning the other half (which isn¡¯t saying much, to be honest), so it was a natural reaction to think the Potatoes could be lead into compliance with child-distraction tactics. Then, a thought crossed LANCER¡¯s mind, stopping him cold. ¡°¡± Said the young snakeman with serious concern. ¡°[Of course they won¡¯t.]¡± ARCHER chuckled confounded, looking at his buddy. ¡°[As if they would fall for that trick anyway.]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER, his tone calling the attention of his peers, who stopped their work to listen. ¡°¡± ¡°[Uh, why would the crew do that?]¡± Said MACER a little unnerved by the serious implication (and the look on LANCERS¡¯ eyes). ¡°¡± ARCHER and MACER nodded. In that particular experience they also spent a lot of time in-mission due to an engineering issue that prevented the ship from jumping long distances in hyperspace, and by the time they got to their destination, the crew was so fed up with it, they collectively entered drone mode and completed the job without thinking much of things. The end result was a container of Aluminium that someone wrongfully put with the current delivery, and nobody thought of rectifying because ¡°it wasn¡¯t their job¡± (even though it was at the time). The natural attitude of a frustrated crew doing missions out of their career expectations, and the best(worse) part? It wasn¡¯t the only time they did it. Everyone listening realized the possibility of it happening again was real and could be worse. ¡°[But.]¡± ARCHER chuckled anxious, fidgeting with his feathers. ¡°[They wouldn¡¯t let that happen with living people. That would be beyond idiocy.]¡± ¡°[Yeah.]¡± MACER was getting worried of LANCER¡¯s intent, ears and tail tucked away trying to shrink her presence. ¡°[What makes you think it could happen this time?]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER, reminiscing while idly moving a joystick controlling a claw, hood closer to his neck and tense. ¡°¡± He shuddered, body heat dropping. ¡°¡± There was an awkward pause. ¡°[Oy!]¡± Said a random Dorarizin worker. ¡°[Stop your depressing babble and get back to work, mate! We don¡¯t need more dark shit around here!]¡± The three turned around to see the other workers were giving them an unapproving look. They exchanged brief glances amongst themselves, then got back to work in silence. Wednesday: 5:38 hours before The Realization. LANCER was disgruntled, staring at the ceiling of their room thinking about nothing as he laid on his (not big enough) heatpad. The chaos outside was sending noise and vibrations from everywhere, as the crew of Starbinder continued their express evacuation of station #DX192 in light of the completion of the safety transport net by engineering, which was getting annoying now that he didn¡¯t have something to do. Normally the crew¡¯s activity would be good news for him, as it meant they were about to depart and (with any luck) finish their mission soon, which meant they could finally reach a port and take a few days off ship. Not this time, though. They have been left on house arrest since their superiors refused to reveal the location of the Potatoes, and since they were not supposed to cross paths with them, that means they were not allowed to go to the mess hall to eat until things got under control, which means starving for who knows how long before they fix a new schedule. LANCER¡¯s belly growled. ¡°[You ever wonder why stomachs shiver to let you know you are hungry?]¡± Said ARCHER, his dark claw poised on his chin in philosophical thought as he sat on his bed (also staring at the ceiling). ¡° Said LANCER, his tail''s tip flipping intermittently to force his blood to carry heat to it (as it couldn¡¯t fit on the heatpad). ¡°[What if it¡¯s the other organs pocking at it like ¡°hey, give us something¡±?]¡± ¡°¡± LANCER let his mind wander, distracting him from the drudgery of the day (and his hunger). Goreep The door opened. ¡°[¡®Sup, uglies. I¡¯m back!]¡± Said MACER upon entering their room, carrying a grey sack in her fluffy shoulder. Geerop The door closed. ¡°[Welcome back, butterface.]¡± Said ARCHER from his nest on the wall. ¡°[Thanks.]¡± MACER sat down on the center of the room and put the sack down, grinning. ¡°[I¡¯m glad you think I¡¯m hot.]¡± ¡°[Only ¡®cuz you train your body, butterface.]¡± Said ARCHER smug. ¡°[Too bad you don¡¯t train yours, lardtart.]¡± MACER chuckled, rummaging in her grey sack and pulling out some snacks. ¡°[Now, guess what I got.]¡± ARCHER and LANCER sprung from their spots upon seeing the shiny bags and moved to sat down near their wolf battle buddy, closing a circle. ¡°¡± Said LANCER as he was handed a bag of Sshoops*. ¡°[I just asked a pack friend if they could get me something from the mess hall.]¡± Said MACER, handing ARCHER a bag of Ohoho¡¯s Tasty Rings*. The dark Karnakian squealed in delight. ¡°[You magnificent bastard! How many did you get?]¡± ¡°[Eh, just a handful.]¡± MACER shrugged, opening a bag of Meateors* to eat. ¡°[My friend didn¡¯t want to get me too much either.]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER with an approval look. ¡°¡± ¡°[No probs.]¡± There was a pause as the three subdued their hunger with (unhealthy) snacks. ¡°[So.]¡± MACER broke the silence. ¡°[I asked around and I have a pretty good guess the Potatoes are still inside the station.]¡± ¡°¡± LANCER frowned, a deep worry still stirring within. ¡°[Why are we even stuck here then?]¡± Said ARCHER, a few rings getting stuck in his teeth. ¡°[It¡¯s not like they are going to pass through the barracks.]¡± ¡°¡± ¡°[Yep.]¡± MACER nodded, chewing some snacks. There was another pause for snacks. Their insistence on knowing the location of the Potatoes wasn¡¯t just because of their punishment, but because they felt a kind of rivalry between them, a ¡°connection¡± if you will, since the two groups had a suspicious similarity in their dynamic that was a bit uncanny. They were a group of three, with each member a sample of each specie, each fulfilling a specific role (brains, spirit and muscle) and all seemingly young adults in the spring of their lives. Really, had MACER been male, they would have been mirror images of each other since there was no other group in the crew like them. Which is why the ¡°Bean Squad¡±, as the three young officers had been baptised by the security team, attempted to do The Boot on them in the first place. It was a mix of envy and jealousy, for sure, but there was also a sense of admiration because of the Potatoes¡¯ exotic brand of shenanigans, which made the dull life of space travel much more tolerable. The Bean Squad knew those three were always up to something because of their ¡°smolness¡± (as the users of the GalNet would call humanity¡¯s many quirks). How did they get that ¡°smolness¡±? Hell if they knew. But it reminded everyone of the simple things in life and that parties need no reason to happen (especially naked parties). And that alone was reason to ensure their preservation. On the other claw, the Beans were also fond of pranks and fun stunts, so they saw in the Potatoes a prime opportunity to try new things. Once they get the chance. ¡°[Are we still challenging the Potatoes down the line?]¡± Said MACER, licking a loose tooth she just found because of the snacks. ¡°¡± Said LANCER calm, opening a second bag of Sshoops. ¡°[Yew bet yer fluff.]¡± Said ARCHER calm, teeth now full of misshapen candy he was trying to lick away. ¡°[Good, so we all agree.]¡± ¡°¡± ¡°Or that they get fucked by something else.¡± Thought LANCER, a part of him ever focused on a dark possibility looming in the horizon, encasing his expression in yet another frown. His battle buddies had been aware of his melancholic mood and had a good internal guess about what it was, as the seeds of worry had already bloomed into a beautiful flower of concern inside their minds as well. So they decided to break out a card game to pass the time and help distract their snake pal (and themselves) from everything. ¡°[Alright, switch unevens¡­]¡± Said MACER as the three got immersed in their game. And the hours flew by once again¡­ Wednesday: 37 minutes before The Realization. ¡°[I managed to catch a good glimpse of the party upstairs.]¡± Said ARCHER, reporting back on the Bean Nest after visiting the lobby, where a couple of officers were ¡°attending¡± the ship-wide party (called by the Captain herself) through a projection on the wall. ¡°[No sign of the Potatoes in the Bridge.]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER serious, looking at an improvised map of Starbinder made from trash and other miscellaneous things, where the possible locations of the Potato crew had been systematically marked and ¡°discarded¡± by using game cards. For the past two hours or so, his concern about the Potatoes¡¯ ultimate fate had grown to the point he couldn¡¯t ignore it anymore, and his squadmates shared his sentiment. It wasn¡¯t just a random feeling now, it was an honest-to-goodness gut feeling, and they needed to act on it somehow, because nobody deserved to die a slow hopeless dead aboard a derelict space station in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, everybody still refused to tell them anything about the Potatoes, and they also ignored their warning because they thought it was a prank (which LANCER thought fair, actually). So, they resorted to (little by little) venture to the edge of their ¡°zone¡± to eavesdrop on conversations and ask ¡°innocent¡± questions about the current status of the evacuation, from which they would gather the locations that did not have the Potatoes. Which turned out to be all of them, since there where zero potato commotion anywhere (and the Potatoes where incapable of staying still). Now, I know what you are thinking, how could they know if the Potatoes didn¡¯t enter the ship after they had already discarded a given location? For one, there was only one entrance to the ship, which MACER was in charge of watching by asking her Dorarizin pack friends about it once in a while (as it turns out, Dorarizin are more open to share some information if you are still considered part of the pack, regardless of punishment). On second, about an hour ago, the ship separated from the station and word of mouth had confirmed that engineering had closed the station¡¯s port (the last part to be sealed by the net), so their search tactic had become their present ¡°discard within the ship¡± method. And it was also about this time, when they confirmed that the crew had entered that sweet zone called ¡°somebody else is dealing with that¡±, as everybody¡¯s refusal to answer their main question had boiled down to ¡°I don¡¯t know anyway, go bother someone else¡±. ¡°¡± Said LANCER after picking up the trash, undoing their map. ¡°[Ready.]¡± Said his battle buddies, finishing fixing the last parts of their basic equipment. ¡°¡± The three exited Bean Nest acting like it was just another day, fully aware that their plan was hinging on a fragile straw that at any point could break apart, so they relied on raw confidence to pull it off. It was all going to be more than just putting cream on a fellow officer¡¯s gun barrel or making a jam grenade, after all. ¡°[Where are you guys going?]¡± Said a Dorarizin officer upon seeing them pass through the lobby of the barracks, bringing their presence to the attention of his partner, a Karnakian. ¡°¡± Said LANCER without missing a beat. ¡°[COREMASTER is busy right now, you know.]¡± Said the Karnakian. ¡°[We can do the training and then send the metrics to him, you know.]¡± Said ARCHER without missing a beat. ¡°[Ah, right.]¡± The officers knew that was true -in non-obligatory training, that is. But as long as they were fulfilling their punishment, they were not going to question it. So they returned to celebrating as the Bean Squad exited the barracks towards their goal. You would think the crew would be more uptight about their actions, but in truth, the crew didn¡¯t care much as the Beans were smart enough to not push their tolerance limit, so only their superiors were keeping track of their moves for the sake of their punishment. Besides, everyone was busy celebrating their (hopefully faster now) progress, so it was easy to pass unnoticed straight to the R.A.F.T. quarters below the ¡°neck¡± of the ship¡¯s Bridge, where nobody was present to interrupt the next step of the plan. The R.A.F.T. quarters were no more than a hangar housing two ambulance ships and a couple of rooms fitted with the necessary equipment for rescue missions, given that Starbinder only qualified for the most basic of safety utilities. Upon entering, the Beans headed to the nearest console. ¡°¡± There was an exchange of smugness amongst themselves, as they loved whenever a plan ran smoothly (as their plans were always flimsy as fuck). Although, in reality it was to hide their tension and uncertainty about what had to be done. ¡°¡± Said LANCER back on serious mode. ¡°¡± There was now a hint of anxiety in his eyes. ¡°¡± And he let their doubts take center stage before things got too out of control. ARCHER and MACER exchanged looks. Before today, the few rescue missions they had done were under ¡°controlled¡± conditions, with veterans taking the lead and comm-officers relying vital information from the mothership, leaving them with only the most basic things to do. And now, they were jumping straight to the fray, with no backup or intel whatsoever, following their guts. ¡°[Pfft! So, what?]¡± ARCHER shrugged after an awkward moment, acting tough to reassure himself. ¡°[Fledglings must shed their down feathers at some point.]¡± ¡°[Yeah, let¡¯s take this hunt right to the prey¡¯s den.]¡± Said MACER, reassuring herself by bumping her clenched fists. ¡°¡± Said LANCER with a relieved smile, putting forward a fist bump that was reciprocrated by his friends. ¡° ¡± And the three got to work, fetching equipment left and right. Basic rescue training was an obligatory part of military training, so every officer could be eligible for the R.A.F.T. if needed. Those who took the advance training where defaulted as team leaders during missions, and in the case of the Beans, LANCER was the only one certified to deploy their R.A.F.T. unit, which he did under the pretense of a ¡°training exercise¡±. (They did say they were going to do their obligatory training, after all.) Somewhere in the Bridge, a console issued a silent alert that a R.A.F.T. unit was preparing for deployment, but it was duly ignored in favor of an on-going party. It took the three rogue officers only a handful of minutes to be fully geared, exo-suits sealed and ready to go. Then, ARCHER (their de-facto pilot), got onboard an ambulance ship in the hangar, started its engine, and felt a surge of adrenaline pass through his body as soon as he felt the engine hum. ¡°We are really doing this.¡± Thought the dark feathered raptor, tensed with a mix of fear and excitement.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°[Ambulance seems to be in order.]¡± Said MACER, elated by the bittersweet taste of forbidden action, done checking the ship¡¯s status in coordination with ARCHER while LANCER finished loading for their mission. ¡° ¡± LANCER tried to conceal his own anxious excitement by remaining stoic (which was also part of military training). Then he and MACER sat on the back compartment and strapped themselves. ¡°¡± ¡°[Roger.]¡± Said the raptor, working the ship¡¯s controls and closing all its doors. ¡°[Automatic deployment initiated.]¡± The hangar flared with emergency lights and a warning siren begun to let anyone around (if there was any) know not to step in front of the ambulance, as it was pushed forward by a set of rails leading to the airlock chamber that separated the hangar from space. Yet another alert was sent to the Bridge, but it was ignored in favor of the Captain¡¯s speech. BREEOONK The chamber¡¯s inner door closed to seal Starbinder¡¯s atmosphere, initiating the decompression process, both around and inside the ambulance (which was connected to a special hose), to later open the outer door to the great void. And the stillness of space beckoned them. ¡°¡± Said LANCER, a part of him forever humble in the imposing presence of the black expanse before them, billions of stars, planets and cosmic collectives ¡°watching¡± them in the beyond. ¡°[Yes, sir.]¡± The ambulance was released from its umbilical cord to its mothership, which reeled back into a ¡°piston¡± on the ceiling before the ship was ejected from its rails and sheepishly made its way out in search of its target, outer door closing behind. The three tensed up, as they were now on their way to face oblivion in all its forms. And there, about a mile away from their current position, enclosed in a huge safety net made of metal and other materials, awaited the dreaded smol deathtrap #DX192. ¡°[I found the port.]¡± Said ARCHER with a sense of relief that immediately turned to a scowl. ¡°[Ah shit, guys, we forgot about the shield! How are we supposed to disable this thing?]¡± ARCHER entered a staring contest with the energy shield filling the gaps in the structural net, the ethereal thing mocking his puny ambulance. FUCK was their shared sentiment as the three realized they have reached the breaking point in their straw-grade plan. LANCER gave himself a facepalm for not considering this important issue, while MACER clutched her forehead in impotent frustration. It was the second time they had failed so hard, and of course it had to be when the Potatoes where involved¡­ ¡°[R.A.F.T. B.]¡± Said a male voice in their comm-beads, surprising them. ¡°[Remain in position on standby.]¡± The three tensed up once again upon identifying COREMASTER¡¯s voice. They knew they would be found out eventually, but they were hoping it would be after they had rescued the Potatoes. Or, at the very least, after they had thoroughly confirmed they were wrong and the Potatoes were never in danger. ¡° Begun LANCER, body washed in cold anxious fear. ¡°[No.]¡± Said COREMASTER stoic. ¡°[Save it for after the ¡°exercise¡±.]¡± Then, the shield ¡°panel¡± blocking the station¡¯s port door was disabled. ¡°[Engineering has given you access to the station.]¡± COREMASTER¡¯s tone carried a hint of relief and faith. ¡°[Carry on with the ¡°exercise¡±, R.A.F.T. B. We¡¯ll keep an eye for you.]¡± ¡°[Yes, sir!]¡± The three collectively responded, regaining some confidence as their superior¡¯s brief interference confirmed two things simultaneously: 1) they were right and the Potatoes were in the station, and 2) they now had official permission and backup to rescue them. ¡°¡± Commanded LANCER, getting back on role while adrenaline still ran high. ¡°[Yes, sir.]¡± ARCHER turned the ship around to position it a yard away from the port¡¯s door, backdoor facing it, then worked a few keys in his controls. ¡°[Distance parameters calculated and set, automatic pilot engaged.]¡± ¡° ¡± There were more keystrokes and command inputs, then the ambulance shot a series of ¡°chains¡± from six points around its backdoor that physically anchored themselves to the station¡¯s hull, surrounding the port¡¯s door and forming a ¡°hexagonal bell¡± bridge. ¡°[PAS parameters ready. On standby.]¡± LANCER and MACER released themselves from their seats and floated to the door to wait. ¡°¡± Said the sandy-gold snakeman to his raptor battle buddy. ARCHER activated the ambulance¡¯s Portable Atmosphere System, sealing the bridge that connected them to the station. ¡°SEAL SUCCESSFUL¡± Said the computer. ¡°PROCEED TO NEXT STAGE?¡± ¡°[Ready for second stage!]¡± Said the Karnakian. Then, LANCER opened the backdoor. PWEESH Escaped what little pressure had remained inside the ambulance post-decompression, trying to fill the new vacuum size. ¡°¡± BWOOOH Air began to fill the vacuum from a pair of compressors carried within the ambulance¡¯s structure. It seemed a bit excessive, as the ship could have carried the same air pressure from Starbinder and save itself some of that air, but given that gases trying to fill a vacuum could exert quite the punch (depending on the opening), it was decided that protocol should be to de-compress the inside of the ship before deployment to prevent its inner pressure from ¡°sucker punching¡± the occupants whenever they open the door during a mission. Besides, de-compressing in-route was not as quick as on the mothership, and given that some missions may not even need to use PAS, having the R.A.F.T. deal with de-compression in the field everytime they exit the ship was deemed a hassle. ¡°STANDARD PRESSURE LEVEL REACHED.¡± Said the computer after a few seconds, stopping the compressors. ¡°COMPRESSORS AT 73% CAPACITY.¡± ¡°[We are set.]¡± Said ARCHER, leaving the cockpit to join his squadmates at the open backdoor, the three exchanging brief looks of determination (and a hint of fear) before nodding in silence. ¡°¡± Said LANCER, the three looking around the station¡¯s hull. ¡°[Found it!]¡± Said MACER, jumping (gently) from the ambulance to float towards a small lever near the port door surrounded by yellow/black stripes. She landed on all-fours and immediately felt a magnetic sensation reaching out to her exo-suit. ¡°[Hey! Gravity is still on in this thing! Mind your step.]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER. ¡°¡± MACER broke the lever with a single pull of her (enhanced) claws. ¡°[GAH! I¡¯m so sorry!]¡± ¡°¡± LANCER gave himself an internal facepalm, exasperated but not surprised (it wasn¡¯t like they had any training handling smol things). However, this presented the issue that now they would have to damage the hull to enter. ¡°¡± The snakeman got back on track. ¡°¡± ¡°[Roger that.]¡± The armored wolf arched back with bloodlust, presenting her enhanced claws. ¡°[HERE WE GO.]¡± CLANK She stabbed her claw through the hull like butter, telling her all she needed to know about its resistance as the force sent a shiver through the station. And knowing that¡­ CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK She proceeded to open #DX192 like a can of tuna. ¡° ¡± Said LANCER, noticing air shifting through the holes left by their wolf squadmate. KOREEEK MACER pulled away the hull piece in the shape of a rectangle, and the air pressure punched them, rocking the three and the ambulance for a brief moment before everything quickly stabilized on its own. ¡°[UGH, didn¡¯t you say the parameters were set?]¡± Said MACER, who got hit full force by the annoying pressure shift. ¡°[They were. But that¡¯s no guarantee in this godforsaken thing.]¡± ARCHER frowned, getting some of his wits back. ¡°¡± Said LANCER, getting his claws on some equipment. ¡°¡± The armored wolf did as told, swinging inside the clawed hole to land on her boots with subdued metallic noise, as the swing¡¯s arc left her neatly standing on the port¡¯s hallway. Then, as soon as she turned around to face the ambulance, she was met by her serpentine squadmate, who had anchored his tail so he could stretch across to hand her their equipment, repeating the process until they had everything needed on board. Afterwards, the others boarded #DX192. ¡°¡± Said LANCER on his comm-bead. ¡°[Loud and clear, R.A.F.T. B.]¡± Said a female voice on the other side. ¡°¡± He took his part of the equipment and the Beans began their search. ¡°[Negative.]¡± The voice hid a trace of guilt behind professionalism. ¡°[We are sending you a map of the station.]¡± The station¡¯s hallways were highlighted with colored lines as a 3d map was superimpossed on their exo-suit¡¯s visors. ¡°[Follow the blue highlight to reach [Potato Den] in the shortest route. Good luck, R.A.F.T. B.]¡± ¡°¡± They sped up their pace to follow their new objective, but their added layers of volume clashed with the already crammed hallways, forcing them to walk in a line and preventing them from moving faster than a brisk walk. In fact, walking faster felt like a terrible idea, as the floor whined under their weight as soon as they tried, despite the floor being reinforced aproximate to their standards (one of the first ¡°upgrades¡± done by engineering after the humans left the station). If it wasn¡¯t for their map telling them there were more rooms in every direction, they would be paranoid about breaching the station¡¯s hull just by touching on it. It also didn¡¯t help ease their minds hearing the droning noise of the remaining electricity, or the eeriness of the flashing emergency lights, or the ¡°foggy¡± stillness in the air, all of which gave the place a sense of claustrophobia that felt as if the station was going to implode at any moment. ¡°[GAH!]¡± ARCHER broke the silence from behind their convoy after accidentally hitting a door frame while passing through a bottleneck corner. ¡°[Goddamnit. I hate this place.]¡± ¡°[Heh. Told ya you should train some more, lardtart.]¡± MACER chuckled nervous, taking the moment to vent a bit. ¡°¡± Said LANCER, leading at the front. ¡°¡± Rescue missions were never a fun affair, but there was just something about the station that felt off and made their (first exclusive) mission all the more stressing. As if the station itself was haunted and now they were walking into the beast¡¯s- GRAAAAWR! A guttural howl of defiance boomed through the station, catching them off guard and putting them on high alert, back to back, staring at each end around them in search for its source. Oh, how they wished they had guns. ¡°[THE FUCK WAS THAT?]¡± Said ARCHER, clutching a box like a weapon. ¡°¡± LANCER had taken a martial stance, fists up. But MACER recognized the source after her initial spook was gone. ¡°[That was [Alistair]!]¡± She perked up. ¡°[It came from that hallway!]¡± And pointed at a fork in their path up ahead. ¡°¡± Said LANCER uneasy. ¡°[Yeah, who else could it be?]¡± She tried to nudge him forward without damaging their equipment. ¡°[The eldritch abomination that made up this bizarre station?]¡± ARCHER gave the hallway behind them the stink eyes. ¡°[Come on!]¡± MACER got pushy now. ¡°[Hurry!]¡± ¡°¡± LANCER relented at last. And the Bean Convoy went in search of the howl¡¯s origin. ¡°¡± He relayed to mission control. ¡°[Understood, R.A.F.T. B.]¡± Said the female on the other side. ¡°[We are sending you a possible location and route based on its analysis.]¡± And their 3d map was updated. The Beans got a slight morale boost upon seeing their new objective closer than before, and they discarded their fear in favor of walking faster (so they could get out faster). ¡°[[Alistair]!]¡± Howled MACER with a mix of urgency and hope. ¡°[[Paul]! [Cecil]!]¡± A short and bittersweet awoo answered her howl, and the three made haste now. They were closer than the projected location. ¡°¡± Said LANCER upon slithering past a corner and witnessing their targets for the first time. ¡°¡± There were some faint cheers resonating from Starbinder, but they died quickly as everyone stared in horror at the video feed of the Bean Squad, where the Potatoes could be seen laying in a body pile, motionless (and it was all because of their collective negligence). The Beans reached their location and got to work as fast as they could, struggling with their equipment due to the crammed space and their own nervousness. It was clear they needed a better place to do their preparations if they wanted to be swift. If only the hallway was a part of the storage room by its left¡­ ¡°¡± LANCER frowned, fed up with the feeling of claustrophobia. ¡°¡± He gestured to his armored wolf squadmate. ¡°¡± ¡°[Roger that.]¡± The Dorarizin interrupted her own struggle with the equipment and proceeded to cut down the wall with her claws. CLANK CLANK CLANK Groaned the structure in pain (And the engineering team aboard Starbinder winced at the sight). BRONK Fell a rectangle chunk of wall due to the remaining gravity onboard, dispersing the still air in the empty room. ¡°[R.A.F.T. B.]¡± Said COREMASTER on their comm-beads as MACER removed the debri from their way. ¡°[Keep destruction of property to a minimum. You do not want to expose yourselves to danger due to structural failure!]¡± ¡°¡± Said the tensed Jornissian, trying to juggle responsibility as best he could while preparing three life vests for the Potatoes. ¡°¡± So he just followed protocol. ¡°¡± ¡°[Roger that.]¡± The dark-grey Karnakian moved to the now open room and layed three white ¡°boxes¡± on the floor, pressing a few buttons on them to activate their function. The boxes awoke with blue light and lifted themselves with anti-gravity, transforming into elongated shapes with a soft material in their middle end-to-end. Then, he synchronized the stretchers¡¯ simple app with his exo-suit¡¯s integrated digital interface and set the necessary parameters to ¡°push¡± the floating devices with his mind. ¡°[Stretchers ready!]¡± Said ARCHER. Meanwhile, LANCER and MACER had fitted the Potatoes with oxygen masks, confirming to their (and everyone¡¯s) relief that they still breathed -if barely-. They noticed Cecil Noodle¡¯s temperature was dangerously low, and thus decided to move him first, carefully removing Paul to the side so they could drag the ruby-red snakeman away from the body pile. ¡°¡± Said the sandy-gold snakeman to reassure himself. ¡°[I am being careful.]¡± The reddish-brown wolfgirl complained, as she was their main muscle in the operation. And being the strongest also meant being the most destructive, so a part of her always felt overtly conscious about messing up delicate jobs (like moving people), and his comments were perceived as condescending. ¡°¡± LANCER caught his unwitting mistake as they took Cecil to the nearest stretcher and tried to reassure her. ¡°¡± ¡°[I know.]¡± She frowned. LANCER did not pursue the matter further for there was no time for discord and he did not want an angry Dorarizin on his neck later on. ¡°¡± So he refocused on getting work done. ¡°[On it.]¡± The dark-grey raptor tried to remove the white jumpsuit from the unconscious Jornissian while his squadmates gently held his body, failed to do it properly, then proceeded to rip it to shreds instead. ¡°[It¡¯s not like he needs it right now.]¡± ARCHER chuckled nervous, ¡°nonchalantly¡± discarding the piece of clothing before fitting Cecil with a thick green vest that covered his entire torso. LANCER was feeling the weight of every little setback, but he kept quiet. It was their first ¡°unattended¡± mission, he reminded himself. ARCHER activated the vest¡¯s integrated life support system and a warm sensation hit Cecil in seconds, eliciting an instinctual shiver from his body. It was brief but palpable, as the Beans positioned him over his stretcher, tail curled over his body to fit before being gently restrained with soft straps. ¡°[One set, two more to go.]¡± Said ARCHER. ¡°<[Paul] is next.>¡± LANCER confirmed, knowing from their brief inspection that the emerald-green Karnakian was colder than the silver-blue Dorarizin next to him, and, based on the howl that led them there, probably had been unconscious for longer as well. ¡°[Why don¡¯t we take both now?]¡± Said MACER, her own interest surfacing in a mix of worry and need, as she went for Alistair¡¯s body instead, clogging the remaining crammed space in which the two Potatoes layed still. ¡°[I can handle [Alistair] by myself while yo-]¡± The cold angry glare of her snake leader let her know he wouldn¡¯t take that kind of shit right now. ¡°[Roger, sir.]¡± She picked the green raptor as intended. And the previous process was repeated, with ARCHER ripping the clothes (after failing again) to put the life vest on his unconscious parallel, Paul¡¯s body reacting to the sudden presence of heat and other good stuff, and LANCER and MACER strapping him to his own stretcher. ¡°¡± Said LANCER while giving his Dorarizin squadmate a ¡°keep your paws to yourself¡± look. ¡°[Right.]¡± MACER tried to shrink her presence, embarrassed, and yet elated at the idea of handling the local ¡°popstar¡± (on her first true rescue no less!). So she went straight for Alistair and lifted his body with the gentlest hug she could muster, feeling through the exo-suit the softness of his fluff and mane. Oh~ What a comforting sensation~ It was like hugging a life-sized (and handsome) teddy bear. ¡°¡± LANCER got her out of the clouds, nudging her to continue the mission as they couldn¡¯t take the wolfman away if she didn¡¯t move. ¡°[Right. Yes. On it.]¡± She began to follow his lead towards the stretcher, holding Alistair by her lonesome (much to LANCER¡¯s chagrin). And yet again, the vest process was repeated. Ripped jumpsuit, vest on, strap on stretcher. Alistair seemed to smile as he layed on his stretcher, like if his body knew he was safe now. And the Beans let out a sigh of relief, forgetting the urgency of the matter for a moment. ¡°¡± Said LANCER on his comm-bead as they picked up their equipment to leave. ¡°¡± Cheers of joy resonated from within Starbinder. ¡°[Understood, R.A.F.T. B.]¡± Said the female comm-officer. ¡°[We have updated your map with the shortest route back to the ambulance.]¡± A new update was installed on their visors. ¡°[Evacuate the station immediately. Engineering has confirmed the imminent failure of the gravity generators.]¡± There was a brief exchange of looks. And the Bean Squad remembered they were still inside the chaos abomination known as #DX192. ¡°¡± The convoy took to the hallways in a single hasty line, each Bean followed by their parallel Potato in their floating stretcher. The prospect of losing the artificial gravity wasn¡¯t a hazard in itself, it was the implicit idea of staying longer floating inside the dreadful smol station what got them to hurry. Although, there was no denying that transporting unconscious people in microgravity wasn¡¯t safe. Then, as it¡¯s always the case in most rescues, they encountered yet another obstacle when they tried to turn a familiar bottleneck corner and realized the stretchers couldn¡¯t pass, as the clearance was just not enough to allow turning the stretchers at any angle without forcing the occupants to scrape against the walls and ceiling. ¡°[GODS PUNISH WHOEVER DESIGNED THIS DAMN STATION.]¡± Said ARCHER, the one in control of the stretchers, trying to turn Cecil¡¯s stretcher without hurting him to no avail. ¡°¡± LANCER gestured the frustrated raptor to back away their convoy, who did so in a mix of anger and confusion, MACER following since she was trapped in between stretchers. Then, with a killing glare, the sandy-gold Jornissian proceeded to trash the corner with his long tail. ¡°¡± CLINK GRUK BRANK The offending corner was transformed into a misshapen piece of scrap of its former self, while the others observed in shock how their friend vented his accumulated stress in the most physical way possible. Then, after a moment, LANCER stopped. ¡°[R.A.F.T. B.]¡± Said COREMASTER on their comm-beads. ¡°[Do not idle in place. You still have to return to the ship.]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER serious, panting. And the convoy moved again. ¡°[Nicely done¡­]¡± MACER grinned at the destructive work of his snake buddy upon passing through, the stretchers now turning the (defeated) corner with ease. ARCHER just let out a bewildered whistle as he passed, appreciating the beautiful cathartic results (and wishing they could do it to the rest of the station). Things were picking up speed again as they traveled the remaining stretch of their journey. But, alas, fate is always in the mood for trolling. ¡°¡± Said LANCER after the energy died out and the gravity was no more, lifting him midslither. He was just so fed up with all the little details cherry picking at his patience. ¡°¡± He used his exo-suit¡¯s thrusters to reach Cecil¡¯s stretcher and prevent it from hitting the ceiling, as its anti-gravity now pushed it up because there was no conflictive force. ¡°¡± ¡°[OK]¡± ARCHER did as told, as he and MACER got hold of their parallel Potatoes to protect them from the suddenly unruly devices. The stretchers lost their blue light and returned to be subservient, floating in peace, though they could no longer move on their own now. LANCER was undeterred, but he frowned nonetheless. ¡°¡± And he began to float his way out with his Potato in tow, using his suit¡¯s thrusters again. His squadmates silently imitated him, keeping care not to endanger their unconscious loads as they slowly navigated the last crammed hallways as if they were now swimming inside a tube labyrinth. Needless to say, it was not an easy task at all. ¡°[Oof!]¡± MACER crashed against a wall yet again, awkwardly positioning herself to prevent Alistair from hitting something. ¡°[Guh!]¡± ARCHER didn¡¯t have it any better, being constantly crushed by Paul¡¯s stretcher whenever he needed to turn. ¡°¡± LANCER kept hitting his head against clearances as he coiled around Cecil to protect him. And their suffering would continue if mission control didn¡¯t step in. ¡°[R.A.F.T. B, turn on ¡°drone¡± mode on your stretchers.]¡± Said the female comm-officer a bit embarrassed on their behalf. ¡°[They are not malfunctioning.]¡± The Beans stopped to exchange looks, and then ARCHER fiddled with the app and found the mode she was talking about. The stretchers turned a purple light, and through sensors in their edges they automatically positioned themselves at the center of the hallway. Oh, they collectively chuckled in embarrassment, having forgotten such a basic detail due to lack of field experience and stress. Now they could carry on with less worry. (Although, their embarrassment was hard to swallow.) Then, finally, the three reached the station¡¯s port, where the soothing hum of their ambulance awaiting their return, called for them through the stillness of the air. The tired officers thanked any and all deities, as they felt as though they had spent a century inside the crammed station, even though it had been about half an hour since their breach. Without wasting any more time, they got onboard their ambulance ship, swiftly strapping the three stretchers carrying the Potatoes to specific hook devices, leaving their equipment back on its containers for safety, and closing the backdoor to catch their breath now that they were out of the influence of #DX192. ¡°¡± Said LANCER, now weary from all the excitement and frustration and adrenaline, and everything. ¡°¡± ¡°[Roger.]¡± The Karkanian smiled briefly, floating to the cockpit to strap himself to its seat while his squadmates took their own seats, and began to work the controls. With their mission effectively close to completion, they too had now entered ¡°drone mode¡±, acting just enough to get through the last step. ¡°[PAS disengaged.]¡± Said ARCHER, releasing the hexagonal bell bridge that connected the ambulance with the station, and allowing the remaining air pressure in the station to escape in a single punch. AAAH! Screamed the Beans as #DX192 ¡°roared¡± at their ambulance, pushing it away spinning vertically. It took the automatic pilot a moment to regain some control and stabilize the ship, at which point they stopped screaming. ¡°[R.A.F.T. B, are you alright?]¡± Said a female comm-officer. The Bean Squad didn¡¯t answer. They just sat there, hearts racing, questioning their life choices and wondering what sort of angry spirit lived inside #DX192 that hated them so much. ¡°[R.A.F.T. B, do you copy?]¡± There was yet another pause. Then, the Beans broke in nervous laughter once they felt safe enough and their need to return to Starbinder grew stronger. ¡°[R.A.F.T. B, are you there?]¡± ¡°¡± Said LANCER, glancing at his Dorarizin squadmate with a faint smile. ¡°¡± And the Beans sat back in silence, finally satisfied with their effort and letting their minds and bodies relax a little as they returned to Starbinder, leaving any future consequence for later. No doubt, everyone would have questions about it and they would be punished for their actions, but, they had succeeded in their rescue of the Potato Crew, and that meant the preservation of a valuable source of entertainment (besides their lives, of course), and that was good. And good feels nice. Avafarce 29: Snowball effect In which independent choices collectively make one big mess. By all accounts it was a day like any other, fulfill the same necessary activities for the continual existence of the crew, get a shipment of supplies so nobody starves for long, and repair Station #DX192 so things could move forward at last. All normal stuff you would see on any other working ship out there in the field. However, as some poor delivery people would witness, the crew of Starbinder were not normal that day. No, sir. Let¡¯s imagine it from the perspective of an outsider: you arrive to supply a government ship in the middle of nowhere, next to some kind of derelict station being encased in a ¡°safety net¡±, and you are met by a fellow Karnakian officer who runs the standard paperwork of the trade. You are tired and overworked, so you don¡¯t mind that the (cute) raptor in front of you has a vacant stare and their body language is devoid of life. ¡°She¡¯s probably tired like me.¡± You think. Then, you notice that every crewmember from this ship has that same energy (or lack of energy), and they keep whispering ¡°what have we done¡­¡± as they work with the effectiveness and organization of high quality drones. That¡¯s when your brain sets foot on the uncanny valley and you start to question if your exhaustion is playing tricks on you. But, just when you believe it¡¯s all in your head, your crewmates drag you aside and tell you they are seeing the exact same thing. Now you start getting nervous, hoping you and your crew didn¡¯t stumble upon some kind of secret cult or something else (like an eldritch being¡­). But you dare not question it, since you don¡¯t have to stick around for long, and you have the gut feeling that if you do, you will end up like them or worse. Praise the Gods! The final paperwork is signed! So you and your crew book it out of there like you left your stove on and your house is on the other end of the galaxy, burying the whole encounter in a collective secret, lest it haunts you ¡®till you die. That was the impression others had of the current Starbinder, as it carried on living without living, trapped in its own episode of the Twilight Zone. Indeed. Though the crew had rejoiced that the Potatoes had been rescued before being claimed by the Beast called Research Station #DX192 Titanic (MCMLIV), the whole affair had only reminded everyone of a universal truth: everyone is stupid. Hundreds of thousands of years of space culture and technology mean little when everybody has to go through the same learning curve and, thereby, commit the same mistakes. Mistakes that can prove fatal when done within an unforgiving environment (or lack thereof) such as space. At first, the crew were (rightously) mad at their leaders for not ensuring the safety of the Potatoes before things got out of hand, and Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi and the Elite Four of Starbinder (The Doctor, COREMASTER, Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki and Mk¡¯Kre) acknowledged their responsibility and sincerely apologized to the crew for their fuck up. But, before a mutiny could change the political climate within the ship, the Captain presented evidence that at every point in the chain of action (from the intern to the Captain herself) a single act of gross negligence occurred. You see, the interns and researchers were tasked with moving the scientific equipment and stuff, which included the Potatoes themselves. But they said ¡°Leave the Potatoes for last, we cannot move them until the crew gets their room ready within Starbinder.¡±, so they all focused on just moving everything else.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The Doctor and his medical team were tasked with moving all medical equipment and stuff, which included part of the training equipment within Potato Zone. But Doc said ¡°Leave that equipment for last because the Potatoes are resting and we still need to confirm where we are going to store all this.¡±, so they all focused on just moving everything else. The warehouse foremaster and her crew were tasked with moving all the non-medical and non-scientific equipment that was not nailed down, which included part of the stuff within Potato Zone. But they said ¡°Leave that stuff for last, we already got too many smol things to store or recycle and engineering still has to break some equipment free for us.¡±, so they all focused on just moving everything else. Mk¡¯Kre and the engineering team were tasked with dismantling any valuable equipment that could be damaged in-route so warehouse could store it aboard Starbinder, and everything else would be secured instead, which included part of the equipment inside Potato Zone. But Mk¡¯Kre said ¡°Leave that equipment for last because this smol tech is too fragile and its going to take more time.¡±, so they all focused on just dismantling and securing everything else. COREMASTER and the security team were tasked with ensuring everybody followed safety protocols and to watch for emergencies, which included the Potatoes themselves. But COREMASTER said ¡°Focus on the crew and the danger zones, the Potatoes are safe in their den, so we don¡¯t have to worry about them until they are moved to the ship.¡±, so they all focused on just watching over everyone else. Meanwhile, on the ship, the rest of the crew were tasked with making space for all the stuff coming in since the warehouse foremaster was busy in the station, which included preparing the Potatoes¡¯ new den. But they said ¡°Leave their room for last, we still got to figure out where to put all this stuff and we haven¡¯t been told which room we should prepare anyway.¡±, so they all just focused on organizing everything else. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki and the comm-squad were tasked with keeping everyone communicated and following objectives, which included the Potatoes themselves. But Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki said ¡°Everyone is fulfilling their duties at record speed, so let¡¯s relay the news that are popping up right now and leave the Potatoes for when they are moved.¡±, so they all focused on just the activities being completed first. And, finally, the Captain had the task of supervising the whole ordeal, which included the Potatoes themselves and their new den. But she said to herself ¡°The crew is working so fast, if I don¡¯t keep tract of their activities they will clash with one another. I can leave the room designation for last and worry about the Potatoes until then.¡±, so she focused on her crew¡¯s other activities. Add to it all the time factor of we want to get the fuck outta here now, and every single crewmember completed their tasks in record time, going to their limits until they forgot a common objective they all put aside: The Potatoes themselves. And why? Because midway, they all entered a neat little state of mind known as ¡°fuck it, its good enough¡± which is highly dependent on normal work routine, and their normal work routine, as it turns out, included leaving the Potatoes in Potato Zone because that¡¯s their ¡°home¡±. Only three individuals aboard Starbinder had been immune to this collective effect, The Bean Squad, and only because their own fuck up had excluded them from the whole ordeal (an irony that did not escape COREMASTER, but that¡¯s a story for later). So, it was a blessing they had the will and skill to pull off a rescue on behalf of everyone else, balancing their karma in the eyes of the crew (though it did not lift their punishment). And with this evidence in the open for everyone to see, Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi and the Elite Four of Starbinder prevented a mutiny that would surely bring the attention of the higher-ups even faster, as the whole crew fell into a state of guilt and shame that prompted them to git gud from now on. Thus, Starbinder transformed for a time into a copy of a smol film called Equilibrium, with its denizens fulfilling their work with high efficiency, but devoid of emotion and passion. Avafarce 30: Forget-me-not In which our doggo wanders the dreamscape. ¦®¡±Now then, son.¡± Said the echo of his father as he ¡°explained¡± on the dirt all about a game. ¡°When he gets the ball¡­¡­defenders strike these guys¡­¡­he runs to this spot¡­¡­throw the ball¡­¡­the runner on this side¡­¡­then they¡­¡±¦® Alistair Potato Kibbles listened intently, crouching next to the blurry and featureless figure of who-he-knew was his father, the rekindled memory of the man looking comically small compared to his buff werewolf body three times the size of an adult man. And next to him was his eroded human self, equally blurry and featureless as their father, but ¡°close¡± to his consciousness nonetheless. The three were camping in some nondescript memory of a meadow at dusk, the only prominent features being some blue flowers nearby and the dancing light of a campfire helping paint the dirt drawings with shadows, allowing Alistair to see the gestures of his father as his speech was heard like the distant and incomplete transmission of an old record. There was nothing beyond their immediate surroundings but darkness. ¦®¡±And so they¡­¡­it reaches the goal¡­¡­they win!¡± The blurred man smiled at him without smiling, his body a manifestation of elation and passion for his favorite sport. ¡±That¡¯s teamwork, son.¡±¦® Alistair Kibbles looked at his old man in his eyes-that-were-not-there as he felt his heavy hand playfully shake his fluffy shoulder, the phantom feeling incongruent with the image of the man touching through his fluffy muscled arm. He smiled back with bittersweet nostalgia as the echo dissipated before him. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Said his (barely) human self, gently taking him by the paw as the darkness once again reclaimed their consciousness and left them to wander nowhere. The silver-blue Dorarizin took his hand to follow himself to the next echo of their past, the two walking in place for some indefinitive point in time as their mind made sense of itself once again. What will it be now? He thought, feeling within his essence the collection of memories he had rekindled so far in this seemingly eternal dream. He knew now with certainty he was born on Earth. He spent his childhood there and his family would often go camping because his father was going on a mission when he reached teenagehood, which meant no more trips to the forest. He was an only child, and his parents where the only remaining family he had as everyone else either died or left to travel the stars, never to return. His mother loved him deeply, and though they were on their own now, she did her best to ensure his education was good and practical, and she encouraged him to continue pursuing sports like his father had done when he was there. Alistair was meant to grow into a self-reliable man that was also a team player, that was their wish, he knew. But his father died off-world before he could see the man he had become, and his body was sent to Earth to be buried where he and his mother could mourn him. ¦®¡±These are the most beautiful.¡± The echo of his mother now whispered to him. ¡°Give him these so he knows he¡¯s home.¡±¦® Alistair took in claw the blue flowers the featureless memory handed him. Forget-me-not he remembered, his father¡¯s favorite. They were at the cemetery he was buried, but only his grave was important to him so it was the only thing he could see. He stepped forward and kneeled down to place the flowers with full reverence, telling a silent prayer only God and his father could hear. His mother tried to remain composed, but her tears could not be held for long in the face of a reality that presented itself without the man she loved. Alistair went to her side and embraced her, letting his own grief free as the pain overwhelmed his senses. And for a moment he did not feel his human self next to him, it was just him and his mother. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Said the dying voice of his other self, taking his claw in hand to lead him through the darkness. Alistair knew the dead of his father did not mean the end for them, his mother wouldn¡¯t allow such thing, despite her own doubts and struggling faith. Against all odds, she encouraged him to take space training so one day he could leave Earth in search for a better future. He did not want that, not if it meant leaving his only remaining family.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¦®¡±NO.¡± Said the firm echo of his mother at home. ¡°We did not raise you to be held back by our fate!¡±¦® Alistair tried to argue back, a mixture of rage and sadness shivering through his hulking werewolf body. But the figure of his mother gently took hold of his head, forcing him to bend down and look her in her-not-there eyes that spoke with a painful but honest truth. ¦®¡±One day I¡¯ll be gone and you will have to follow your own path.¡± Whispered her with a forlorn gaze. ¡°Don¡¯t deny yourself opportunities just because of us. There is a whole future out there for you, and only you can make it happen if you prepare yourself.¡±¦® ¦®¡±Promise me you will complete the training, even if you never leave Earth¡­¡±¦® Her words lingered with him as he took his human self by the hand and traveled the darkness. He had done his best to keep his promise, but back then he was only human, and through his own reluctance he could only master enough spacefaring skills to guarantee the lowest of jobs if he ever left Earth. A selfish reluctance that filled him with guilt once his mother joined his father in the afterlife a few years later. ¡°Here.¡± Said the remnant of his self, handing him a bunch of blue flowers he could leave at his parents¡¯ graves. A symbol of their unity. Alistair took them and kneeled down at both graves with lonely reverence, telling a prayer only God and his parents could hear. For a moment his strength weakened as the weight of reality befell on his shoulders, and he let himself be consumed by his grief and pain. Without their encouragement, how was he supposed to move on? Once again, the darkness took hold of his struggling psyche. But this time he did not try to carry on, for there was nothing of significance in the gap that followed. He knew he had failed despite trying his best for their sake. In his depression, he had abandoned Earth believing that was their final wish, losing what little connections he had made on Earth in the process. But space travel was an extreme measure. Not only was he now alone, in unknown territories, with unknown people, but he was facing danger at every turn if he let his emotions distract him from work. So in the next dozen years or so, he became a shy servant for his peers in a bid to keep himself safe and part of the team, a travesty of the man he was meant to be. He could not make friends or meet love, for he no longer knew how. And those who used to work with him (whoever they were), didn¡¯t seem to care. ¡°But is not their fault.¡± Said his human self in his dying throes. ¡°It was our battle. We made mistakes¡­ And yet we were given a second chance.¡± He showed him a glimpse of the moment he chose to become a part of the experiment, the moment he believed he was abandoning his lack of purpose in search for something greater than him. ¡°We took the step, knowing well things would be out of our hands.¡± Alistair looked deep into his eroding human self, as this side of him clasped his werewolf claw in a weakened plea that acknowledged his loneliness and sadness, and yet reminded him that he still had a reason to fight for his future. ¡°Remember the second chance we have been given.¡± Said his self, memories of his first years as a xeno flowing past him in a blur. ¡°We may be far from that future they set for us, but we are no longer alone in our search.¡± The echoes of his parents resonated once more before leading the way to the image of his two soul brothers in the shape of apex predators, and Alistair¡¯s xeno body reminisced of his current life as one of the Potatoes. Every day, his soul brothers would welcome him into the light with a warm presence, even if they had fought over some innocuous detail like ¡°who ate the last meatball¡± or ¡°who clogged the toilet again¡±. Cecil Noodle, his big bro ruby-red snake, would help him brush his silver-blue fur after waking up, and Paul Feathers, his young bro emerald-green raptor, would scratch his back whenever he had a troublesome itch. The three would sit down to play ball, or they would train hard to gain extraordinary physical fitness only possible through their xeno bodies, or they would see a movie or sing and dance or even roleplay their favorite stories. If he felt afraid, they were there. If he felt happy, they were there. If he got hurt, they were there. And if he felt lost, they were there. ¡°They are our identity as much as our memories¡­¡± Whispered his human self, handing him the last remnants of his memories in the shape of blue flowers. ¡°Even if we lost so much, we can only get more now¡­If we keep fighting for their sake.¡± And he reminisced of his parents as vividly as he reminisced his brothers, for they were all family. ¡°Forget-me-not¡­¡± Alistair Potato Kibbles, the Dorarizin, took the flowers in solemn reverence and let his human past rest at last, knowing that he would fight to keep his memories alive as one from now on. For the sake of his past, for the sake of his present, for the sake of his future¡­ Forget-me-not. Avafarce 31: Please insert joke to continue In which the writter tries to keep the story a lighthearted drama. Alistair woke to the beeping and humming sounds of medical machines. It was a familiar feeling and yet something was different. The space around him felt different, the bed in which he laid was different, the smells were-wait. There was an oxygen mask strapped to his muzzle, isolating his nose, and he could feel a snug sensation embracing his torso as he breathed slowly. He hadn¡¯t opened his eyes yet and he already knew this was not the same hospital in which The Doctor and the nurses would treat him, and something told him he was not there for normal reasons. ¡°I had a brush with Death.¡± He thought after a second, opening his eyes and staring into the beyond in silence. ¡°And It beckoned.¡± He was no stranger to near-death experiences because of his habit of taking physical exercises to the extreme, but this time was different. This time, the Grim Reaper had taken something from him to let him go. But what was it? Alistair kept staring in silence at existence itself, unmoving in his bed, breathing deep. There was some fear in his soul, but more than that, there was the acknolwedgement of his mortality and the humble tranquility that comes with it. ¡°Live as you are.¡± He thought, now aware of his surroundings as his eyes traced the clean utilitarian (yet non-human in design) ceiling of the dimlitted room. He begun to recollect his memories in search of what was taken, but he couldn¡¯t pinpoint it yet. He remembered some of his childhood on Earth, his parents, some of his past friends, the moment his father¡¯s coffin was brought home from space, when his mother died; even some of the boring and depressing times when he used to work in a warehouse on some space colony. But nothing felt out of place. In all those memories he felt the same, a Dorarizin going through (human) life, and he knew that was right. Which made his memories of the experiment a bit funny, since the scientists treated him like a regular human at first and then like the 8ft tall werewolf he was. ¡°Oh, right. It was all about letting me train my natural abilities.¡± He thought, closing his eyes as he remembered the following years of constant tests and exercises, and the strange memory issues he had during that lapse (a fact that made him doubt himself for a moment, but his body knew he was a space wolf, and that was that). Then, he remembered his soul brothers, and realized he had to check on them and make sure they were also alive. Alistair reopened his eyes, took another deep breath, then pulled himself forward to sit in his bed, body feeling groggy but rested. A silent alarm went off. He took another moment to check his surroundings. The room was bigger than he thought, with multiple beds installed in a row, all of which could be secluded as their own ¡°private room¡± as evidenced by the presence of another Dorarizin sleeping on the far left corner, their silhouette visible through closed screens. In principle it was no different than a human hospital, but the ¡°cave-like¡± design of its walls and ¡°waterfall¡± screens spoke of xeno sensibilities (Dorarizin, in this case), with the machinery showing a lot of doodads you wouldn¡¯t need for humans, like a fur brusher. ¡°I¡¯ll brush my fur later¡­¡± He thought as he carefully removed the oxygen mask from his muzzle to take in the local smells at last: Clean, safe, often visited by the same wolves (the medics), and many chemicals present within the machinery. Nothing out of the expected ordinary. He glanced at his feet and begun to test their response alongside his claws, moving slowly inwards limb from limb as he commanded his body to ¡°wake up¡±. He had already noticed the life vest he was wearing (which was that snug feeling constraining his chest), and he was fiddling with it to take it off before he was interrupted by the sound of a door mechanism. GROOSH. Alistair turned his attention to the room¡¯s entrance and saw a grey-furred nurse approaching him, their expression initially of concern then a mix of anxiety and elation. ¡°[Mr. [Kibbles], no, no.]¡± Said the nurse, gesturing a claw in that universal ¡°settle down¡± sign while the other claw held a tablet. ¡°[Don¡¯t touch your vest, you still need it.]¡± Alistair stopped himself as the wolf nurse immediately invaded his personal space to check on him, first order of business being a thorough sniffing, which he knew by experience should never be interrupted (his muzzle still stings from past ¡°shush¡± slaps). Instead, he sniffed in turn, taking in the most basic information about this new person he just met. ¡°Female. Older than me. Healthy. Single. Overworked. Carries traces of another wolf, a raptor, a snake, some meat leftovers¡­¡± The quantity of information shared through smell alone could be daunting, even if we only took into account the smells he could identify. ¡°[Thank the Ancestors, your body is recovering successfully.]¡± Said the nurse after a moment, tail wagging once to let her scent carry her relief. ¡°[Do you still feel sluggish, Mr. [Kibbles]?]¡± She looked intently at him. ¡°(A bit.)¡± Ninjutsued Alistair in sign language. ¡°(Where am I?)¡± ¡°[You are in the Dorarizin room of the ship¡¯s hospital. Would you like some water?]¡± She turned to reach a cup and a water jug resting on a service tray beside the bed, preparing them. Alistair downed the drink in one go. ¡°(Where are my brothers?)¡± Ninjutsued with one claw afterwards. ¡°[They are in their respective rooms. More water?]¡± ¡°(Yes, please.)¡± He handed the cup. ¡°(Are they alright?)¡± ¡°[Yes. They are still recovering, but don¡¯t worry, they¡¯ll be fine.]¡± Alistair downed the second drink, handed the cup back once again, then proceeded to leave the bed before being stopped by the (not-at-all surprised) nurse. ¡°[Now, now. I know you want to see them, but you have not been discharged yet.]¡± Said the nurse with her claw on his chest. ¡°(I must see them. Please.)¡± He tried to push his way but her claw felt stronger than steel. ¡°[I cannot let you go until The Doctor sees you. Please understand.]¡± Alistair wanted to argue but his rationale kicked in, telling him that 1) he didn¡¯t know how to get to his brothers, so trying to do so in a rush would get him lost, 2) he wasn¡¯t sure if he could even walk, let alone dodge the medical staff that would obviously try to get him back, and 3) the medical staff had always been kind and honest with him, so their brothers must be in good hands right now, no? Besides, the nurse is kinda cute, why give her trouble-wait. What? Alistair froze in shock as he gazed upon the nurse¡¯s deep blue eyes and realized his subconscious wasn¡¯t all ¡°oh, what a fluffy (scary) werewolf¡± like other times he met a Dorarizin, but rather ¡°wow, she¡¯s a pretty fluffy (scary) werewolf, maybe we could¡­¡±. ¡°[Mr. [Kibbles], are you feeling unwell?]¡± Said the nurse upon noticing his shift in mood. ¡°(I¡¯m fine.)¡± Ninjutsued him after a moment, mind going blank as he returned to lay on his bed and contemplate the ceiling once more, somehow feeling more conscious of his lower body than before. ¡°(I¡¯ll just wait for The Doctor. Thank you.)¡± The nurse wasn¡¯t convinced for a second, but he didn¡¯t look nor smell unwell (quite the contrary), so there was nothing she could do besides waiting too. And wait they did. Meanwhile, in the hall of misery¡­ Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi was in her private quarters trying to master the art of warmcuddle cooking, and endeavour that was not at all easy. For one, she didn¡¯t know a damn thing about warmcuddle cooking, second, she didn¡¯t know a damn thing about warmcuddle food in general, and third, she was trying to get answers from 5nek forums in the GalNet.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°[[Arykins]]¡± Said her bestest raptor friend, Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, without looking up from her own little project on the other side of the room. ¡°[The oven is smoking again.]¡± ¡°¡± The lime-green Jornissian stopped reading the exotic food forums to rush open the little oven in her kitchen. ¡° But her failure was beyond salvation, as evident by the smoke coming out of whatever she was trying to cook in there. Arasha¡¯Ssabi sighed, hood droopy in frustration as she took out the burnt thing and put it on the counter filled with random kitchen utensils and miscellaneous food ingredients (all of them definitively not warmcuddle in origin). She took a moment to evaluate her new failure, resting her claws at the edge of the counter to support her torso and closing her eyes with another sigh. ¡°¡± Said after a moment, staring at the counter. ¡°¡± ¡°[¡°Suffering¡±?]¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki without looking, comfortable on her beanbag coop as she kept on working on some kind of textile craft. ¡°¡± Said Arykins dejected, unable to say souffl¨¦. She begun gathering random materials for the next try, but it was clear her discouragement was getting too much after one too many fails (and a handful of fire-hazard warnings). ¡°[Stop forcing yourself.]¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki finally looked up from her work, concerned for her friend. ¡°[It doesn¡¯t have to be something unique.]¡± ¡°¡± The young snake girl once again took to 5nek to read the recipe for a Jornissian-style souffl¨¦. ¡°[Doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s the best sorry-gift you can give them.]¡± ¡°¡± Arykins gave her friend the stink eyes. ¡°¡± She focused on the handmade ornamented ponchos that laid on the floor beside Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki¡¯s coop and the unfinished one in her claws (which was meant for a Jornissian, thereby longer and thicker). ¡°[But they are not something they want, just something they could use.]¡± The sky-blue Karnakian gave her a non-plussed look with her four eyes. Arykins closed her eyes to avert her gaze, lowering her head in frustration. She was right, she knew. ¡°[Why don¡¯t you try making something that would also make you happy?]¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki with sincere concern. ¡°[Yes, we messed up, but that doesn¡¯t mean we have to live in pity, you know?]¡± ¡° Cried Arykins with clear unhappy energy, surrounded by the mess of a kitchen consequence of her struggle to learn a dish that cannot be learned in a couple of days if your research was faulty from the start. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki stopped her craft and just stared with unfiltered ¡°are you fucking kidding me¡± energy, making her friend lean back, avert her gaze again, and rub her arm in nervousness as her hood flickered. ¡°[Girl, don¡¯t try to pluck my feathers.]¡± ¡°¡± The Jornissian finally relented, turning towards a kitchen pantry with zero enthusiasm and dropping her impossible quest in favor of a canned drink to regain some sense in her life. PWEESH Went the sweet goodness. And Arykins downed the drink in one go to stave off her current frustration, gasping in relief before nonchalantly throwing the can on the recycle bin. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki whistled a brief cheerful tune in amicable victory, getting back to her work. Silence befell the room as Arasha¡¯Ssabi begrudgingly turned off her mini oven, took another drink from her pantry, then slithered across the room to pick up a mobile heatpad to coil down next to her friend. PWEESH ¡°<¡­How long do you figure we got before they question our report?>¡± Said Arykins after another zip, staring at nothing in particular. ¡°[A month, maybe.]¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki without a second thought. ¡°[If they see it from the angle we want them to see.]¡± There was a pause for thought. The incident with the Potatoes couldn¡¯t be hidden from the higher-ups as every emergency had to be informed to them, no matter how small (and abandoned crewmates in derelict stations were not a small emergency). Luckily for the crew, the fact the Bean Squad had made their rescue under the pretense of training allowed Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi and the Elite Four of Starbinder to spin the lie that it was all part of an exercise. Unluckily for the crew, there were so many holes in said story, that it was only a matter of time before somebody took a second look and realized the truth, at which point they were fucked. ¡°Unless¡­¡± The Captain thought, taking a zip from her drink. ¡°We can convince the Potatoes to back our story.¡± Convince. The word alone made her shudder with guilt as it made her feel like a manipulative villain, even though she was just trying to save everyone¡¯s hide, including the Potatoes. ¡°None of this was supposed to happen in the first place.¡± She frowned to herself, resting her torso on her coiled tail and putting the near-empty drink on the floor, emotionally exhausted. Sure, she didn¡¯t like Research Station #DX192 despite being built by warmcuddles, as it was brittle, poorly designed for Jornissians (or any specie, for that matter) and seemingly possessed by a chaos spirit; but, she did her best to keep it in good condition for the sake of her mission. And sure, she didn¡¯t get the best first impression from the Potatoes because of their nakedness, lack of social tact, and strange warmcuddle antics; but, from the start she had tried to keep them alive out of social duty, until that changed to a conflictive mix of genuine appreciation for their strangeness (and nakedness) and a sincere desire to teach them how to be ¡°proper¡± citizens of the Galactic Alliance (and in the case of a particular Potato, how to be an exemplary Jornissian). At no point did she ever want things to go wrong, but they did, oh how they did. And now she was in a race against time trying to find a reasonable justification for all the mistakes she and her crew committed. And the only way to reach said goal was to have the Potatoes vouch for them, so they could prove there was no malice involved and things happened because chaos lives here. And to do that, she needed to appeal to them in such a way they would finally trust her, which is why she had been trying to learn how to cook a warmcuddle souffl¨¦, thinking food could break the barrier between them at last. But it was all a delusion, she knew. Arasha¡¯Ssabi sighed in defeat. The silence of the room fell heavier than usual, and she was going to continue moping in her misery, had Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki not stretched her winged arm to gently pat her on her head, reminding Arykins that she was not alone in her struggle. The two exchanged soft smiles of acknowledgement and understanding. ¡°<¡­What do you think I should try making?>¡± Said Arykins after a while. ¡°[What¡¯s your favorite dish?]¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, returning to work with both claws. ¡°¡± She looked up in thought. ¡° And referenced a dish made with an animal akin to a space rat. ¡°[Then, make that.]¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki smiled. ¡°¡± ¡°[How do you know they¡¯ll like the suffering pastry instead?]¡± Arykins opened her mouth, raising her claw to argue back, but she quickly realized Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki had a point and lowered her claw, frowning. ¡°[So what do you prefer¡­]¡± Said the sky-blue raptorgirl, diligently focused on both her work and her friend. ¡°[Making something that you know you like and it¡¯s a part of you? Or making something you don¡¯t know that could take years to even make?]¡± There was a pause, the right choice evident for both. Then, Arykins playfully bumped her friend with her fist. ¡°¡± ¡°[I¡¯m your mission control, girl~]¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki grinned like a fool, puffing her feathers in smugness and suddenly gesturing at her friend. ¡°[Your life¡¯s in my little claws~]¡± And the two laughed, one like a kookaburra doing a mixtape, and the other like a teapot imitating a machine gun, both releasing the frustration and negativity that had been plaguing their minds recently. There was a pause for breath. ¡°<¡­Thanks, Kerykins>¡± Said Arykins with a relieved smile, picking up her drink from the floor. ¡°¡± Then, she took a final sip from it, crushing the can afterwards with a noisy CRUNCH. ¡°[Anytime.]¡± Said Kerykins returning to work on her Jornissian poncho yet again. BEEP BEEP Message on inbox. ¡°[Oh?]¡± The sky-blue raptor abruptly stopped her project, catching the attention of her lime-green snake girlfriend. ¡°¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi put on her professionalism at the sight of Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki¡¯s serious expression. The Karnakian put her project on hold and stood up from her beanbag coop, prompting the Captain to follow suit. ¡°[A message from Doc.]¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, looking intently at her friend. ¡°[[Alistair Potato Kibbles] is awake.]¡± There was a brief pause to let reality sink in. Then, both Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi and Head of Communications Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki rushed out to visit the first conscious Potato. Avafarce 32: The sadness of Arasha’Ssabi In which we get a deeper glimpse into the Captain¡¯s mind. It was no secret that the Captain was guided by her own rose-tinted reality forged by ¡°youthful¡± desires and a big help of romance-adventure stories. It wasn¡¯t anything new or unique anyway, many crewmates could be said to be like that too, given most of the galaxy was wealthy enough that one main social problem was boredoom (so why not copy fiction for a bit of fun, eh?). It¡¯s just that in the Captain¡¯s case, she believed herself to be in some fantastic voyage where nothing can go ¡°too wrong¡± before the narrative takes a 180¡ã turn in her favor because she¡¯s the protagonist and she will have her happy ending, damnit. This is why, ever since she arrived to the deathtrap known as Research Station #DX192, she has been patiently waiting every second for things to turn around once and for all in the name of all that is good in the galaxy. And every little bit of good news (that could also fuel her internal narrative) were a welcome sight for a soul who prided herself in being safety-minded and free of tragedy. ¡°¡± Said Arasha¡¯Ssabi upon arriving at the Dorarizin ward of the hospital bay, her Karnakian friend Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki following beside her. From the only desk guarding the entrance perked a grey-furred Dorarizin nurse, who up ¡®till now had been grinning to herself in a mixture of shyness and elation. ¡°[Oh? ¡­Ah! I¡¯m sorry, Captain, but The Doctor has instructed me not to let anyone through until further notice.]¡± She began fidgeting with her paws, blushing (as the Captain could see through her thermal vision). ¡°[You see, uh, Mr. [Kibbles] is still being ¡°tested¡±. You will have to come back another time.]¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi turned to look at Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki in mild confusion. ¡°Didn¡¯t Doc summon us a minute ago?¡± Relayed her gaze. ¡°Yes?¡± Shrugged her companion back. ¡°¡± Turned Arasha¡¯Ssabi to the nurse, slithering with confidence towards the main room like the protagonist she was. ¡°¡± GROOSH Went the door. ¡°[But, Captain-Wait!]¡± The nurse got up, but she was too slow to stop the Jornissian and her companion from entering the room. The Captain made a quick scan of the place and easily located The Doctor and his patient within the privacy of closed screens at one side of the room, thus slithering to them with a calm smile. ¡°¡± She begun upon reaching out and sliding open the ¡°waterfall-like¡± screens to meet her targets, expecting good news. ¡°¡± Then she froze. The Doctor turned around to stare at her with a professional look that barely concealed a ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you not to interrupt me?¡± gaze. But, beyond her fellow snake¡¯s piercing eyes, her sight focused on the honor-given-flesh of Alistair Potato Kibbles, who for some reason had been left naked from the waist down and was nervously allowing The Doctor to check on his most recent (and most chaotic) beginning of his ¡°season¡±, and that image got embedded in her mind. ¡°¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi¡¯s train of thought jumped down a cliff as she stood transfixed on something she knew she shouldn¡¯t be looking. For their part, Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki and the nurse were silently staring with a mix of awe and curiousity that made Alistair quickly clutch his honor between his legs and tail, trying to become smaller in the wake of his shattered privacy. The Doctor lunged at the intruder in a rage, pushing away the Captain with a firm grip. ¡°¡± Commanded the python Jornissian, loud enough to be heard by them but quiet enough to not disturb the resting patient on the other side of the room. He closed the curtains again while the intruding trio sheepishly made their way out without second thought. WOOP Closed the door for a second time. There was an awkward pause as they stopped by the center of the waiting room. ¡°[¡­Uh, I did tell you not to come in, yes?]¡± Said the nurse after a minute, ears down. The Captain turned to the nurse with ¡°I messed up¡± energy in her eyes, hood pressed to her neck and nodding once. ¡°¡± Said her as her mind processed the event within the confines of her library of romance-adventure tropes, trying to cope with the sheer shock of what she just witnessed. (Mind you, she was no stranger to ¡°interesting anatomical features of the masculine kind¡±, but that didn¡¯t mean she had seen one in the flesh.)(Though, if it¡¯s from another species it doesn¡¯t count, right?) ¡°[Oh wow.]¡± Chuckled Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki besides the Jornissian as she checked something on her comm-bead, embarrassed. ¡°[Look at that. I did get a second message saying ¡°Don¡¯t come, still busy doing tests¡±. Hahaha-]¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi turned to her friend with ¡°what did you say?¡± indignation in her eyes, her hood flaring up. ¡°[¡­ha.]¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki lowered her head into her shoulders trying to become smaller and grinned anxiously at her friend in an attempt to appeal to mercy, her sky-blue crest flickering twice in a submissive Karnakian gesture. Arasha¡¯Ssabi sighed in defeat, slithering forward to avert her anger from her friend and the nurse, her mind a jumbled mess. ¡°<¡­It wasn¡¯t your fault.>¡± Said her with a tired tone to the puzzlement of Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki. While it was true that the situation could have been averted had the Karnakian paid more attention to her message log (especially since she was the Head of Communications), the Captain realized that she didn¡¯t get any direct message in the first place, and that beg the question ¡°why?¡±. ¡°¡± Arasha bowed in repentance to the nurse, hood relaxed, much to the latter¡¯s mild confusion. ¡°<[Kerykins].> She turned to her friend, stoic. ¡°¡± ¡°[Ah, sure.]¡± Kerykins took the cue and went for the exit. ¡°[I¡¯ll just, uh, check on my team at the Bridge.]¡± But, before leaving, the sky-blue raptorgirl glanced back from the exit¡¯s frame at her friend with a silent pleading look. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, are you ok?¡± Relayed her eyes to the lime-green snakegirl. ¡°No, but it¡¯s not your fault.¡± Told the Captain¡¯s eyes. ¡°Go on, I¡¯ll see you later.¡± And Kerykins left her alone with the nurse. Once her friend was gone, Arasha¡¯Ssabi slithered to a corner and coiled down to quietly wait for The Doctor¡¯s reprimand (which was bound to happen soon), channeling the professionalism expected of someone with her station by emulating (as best she could) her image of stoic protagonists. She smiled a controlled smile at the nurse, letting her know she was off the hook and everything should be going as it should now, and the nurse just nodded in silent acknowledgement and went back to her desk to work. ¡°He didn¡¯t send me a message.¡± Thought the Captain, checking her log to make sure she didn¡¯t miss something. ¡°Why?¡± She lowered her gaze in thought, resting her chin on one claw while her arm rested on her other arm embracing her belly. The lack of a message was yet another miniscule detail that didn¡¯t make sense, she believed, since her instructions to The Doctor were clear: ¡°Notify me of any meaningful updates about the Potatoes as soon as they happen.¡±, and The Doctor had fulfilled that order up to that point. So, why only message Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki this time? ¡°It could have been a mistake.¡± Said a little voice inside her mind. ¡°He¡¯s been stressed a lot lately.¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t we all?¡± Answered herself, acknowledging the current state of mind of the crew as a whole was not the best right now. Her own was not the best right now, even though she had the blessing of having a good friend at her side. And because of that she was not angry at the Doctor¡¯s lack of a direct update, but rather, she was confounded by it and how it stacked with every other chaotic occurrence that had plagued her mission since the beginning. ¡°No, no.¡± Said another much-energetic voice. ¡°This is just like in Misadventures of a Coy Maiden!¡± And the Captain¡¯s mind was thrown for a loop. ¡°Remember that chapter when she finds Mr. Eresshem naked by mistake? How it-¡° ¡°HAHA, no.¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi interrupted herself as she shifted her pose to distract this coping mechanism channeling romance-heavy literature from finishing. ¡°First of all.¡± Said a rational voice. ¡°This was not Mr. Eresshem by far.¡± And with that, the Captain willed herself out of the gutter. She stared at nothing in particular as she waited for The Doctor to finish his work, the cold floor of the Dorarizin waiting room getting particularly bothersome. A few minutes passed. ¡°¡­But, hear me out.¡± Said that voice, creeping back into the limelight. ¡°Just look at the nurse.¡± And Arasha¡¯Ssabi glanced at the Dorarizin sitting at her desk, noticing how the wolfgirl seemed lost in her own world too, judging by her grin and sparkly eyes. ¡°Doesn¡¯t she look just like how Ms. Ssievi would look like if the Clutchmate Seekers did their own live-version of Coy Maiden?¡± There were some internal nods of agreement (mostly because the other coping mechanisms were also marked by centuries-worth of romance stories), and the Captain couldn¡¯t help but nod in appreciation at this little tidbit of reality that transformed her anxious waiting into something more entertaining. ¡°So what?¡± Said another much-forceful voice. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t be about her, it should be about us.¡± And the Captain frowned to herself behind her stoic mask, averting her gaze from the nurse. ¡°Why am I not Ms. Ssievi?¡± She questioned her protagonism yet again, closing her eyes. ¡°Because that wasn¡¯t Mr. Eresshem?¡± Said the rational voice. ¡°Pfft, that¡¯s easy to fix!¡± Said that voice. ¡°We just change a few things¡­¡± And a new train of thought left the grand station, hauling as its first car that embedded image from inside the ward. Yet, the second car would have said image transform into a different individual, someone more Jornissian-like, who would evolve into full Jornissian as the next cars followed. ¡°Ok, go on.¡± Said the voice council intrigued. Then, the next cars would add the shape of an older male in his prime, not muscled, mind you, but with a well-defined physique. ¡°Yeah, not bad.¡± Nodded the voice council. Then, the next cars would change his pose to be more relaxed, more inviting; adding a beautiful dark blue color as his scale pattern, and rugged red eyes that stared into her core, calling, abiding to her memory of Mr. Eresshem¡¯s description. ¡°No, no. Make it more striking.¡± Said a voice. ¡°Make it red.¡± OK. The station master (that voice) had the train comply and the imaginary Jornissian changed to red scales. ¡°Tone him up.¡± Said another voice. ¡°Make him younger and stronger.¡± OK. New cars for the train of thought, and now Jorn Smith was closer to her age and muscled. ¡°The eyes!¡± Said yet another voice. ¡°Make them contrast!¡± OK. One more change, one more car sent by the station master, and now Jorn Smith looked closer to the Captain¡¯s most recent memory of a naked Jornissian. ¡°Yes.¡± Agreed the voice council. And Arasha¡¯Ssabi smiled at her imagination in pride. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Then a meeker inner voice appeared. ¡°That¡¯s just [Cecil].¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The sudden explosion of yet another derailed train of thought made Arasha¡¯Ssabi wince in recoil. ¡°Not the time, not the place. Not the time, not the place¡­¡± She opened her eyes and chuckled nervously at herself in embarrassment (and guilt), keenly aware it was not the proper moment for that kind of thoughts. ¡°¡± Said a male voice outside her peripheral vision, breaking away her abstract thoughts. Arasha¡¯Ssabi composed herself in haste, turning around to see The Doctor addressing her now. To the outside observer she would appear stoic and professional, but to other Jornissians her heat signature was all over the place, speaking of inner turmoil and repressed feelings. The Doctor stared at her with concern, no doubt aware of her state of mind. ¡°¡± Said the older snake calm, slithering out of the Dorarizin Ward with his equipment in claw, thus leaving no chance to begin their chat then and there. The Captain followed behind her fellow Jornissian, noticing before they left that the female wolf nurse was being replaced by a male raptor nurse (no doubt to prevent accidents). She wondered for a second if there were no male Dorarizin nurses onboard her ship, since each ward was supposed to be attended by a member of its own species (for the sake of covering species-specific issues and treatment methodology), realizing then she had never asked such a question ever. ¡°Don¡¯t get cold about it.¡± Said a rational voice. She couldn¡¯t keep track of everything, after all. There was no talk between the two snakes as they slithered to The Doctor¡¯s office, not just because it was improper at the time, but because his office was just a short distance from the wards, so there was no point anyway. ¡°But, shouldn¡¯t we be aware of at least this much?¡± Said a voice keeping track of the previous thought. ¡°I mean, didn¡¯t one of the Safety and Culture ordinances state that we must ensure we have enough nurses to cover all a species¡¯ needs? Isn¡¯t this particular instance part of that?¡± And the question lingered on her mind. Yes. Part of her knew. This could be interpreted as a neglect of her duties, which is part of the reason her mission was so messed up. ¡°We need to get back to keeping track of all these things.¡± Said one voice. ¡°At which point did we stop, though?¡± Said another in serious introspection. And the Captain made a quick recount of past decisions and realized her neglection had creeped on her ordinary habits since before taking on this mission. ¡°Not a good sign.¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi sighed in self-disappointment. ¡°Not a good sign at all¡­¡± ¡°Stay strong, we can get back up.¡± A handful of her imaginary selves comforted her (while an eager self tried to offer that interesting image as a distraction, only for another to slap it off her claws in ¡°no, you idiot¡± annoyance). ¡°After you.¡± Gestured The Doctor in silence upon arriving at his office¡¯s entrance, letting the Captain enter first. The room was nothing impressive: just an utilitarian cuboid with a desk, a locker for equipment, some general purpose seats (pretty much bean bags) and a Universal Medical Bench v1.3* for physical checkups; all big enough to host 3 xenos comfortably (more if they were willing to be elbow-tight), or about a dozen humans (maybe). Of course, there were also a lot of personal paraphernalia, like The Doctor¡¯s title plaques (which had unique trackers* as proof of their origin through certified medical schools), miscellaneous medical doodads for his studies, a handful of entertaining trinkets to stave off boredoom during long sessions, and a Jornissian teamaker. ¡°¡± Offered The Doctor to the Captain as he reached his trusty drink machine. ¡°¡± Said Arasha¡¯Ssabi as she coiled around a warm bean bag, anxious to finally get some news that could ease her remaining burden (the kind that won¡¯t leave you even with the help of a good friend). Though, that brought back the question: why wasn¡¯t she notified by The Doctor? ¡°¡± Doc handled her a cup of tea, then headed to his desk in calm silence. There was a pause for tea time. ¡°<¡­Listen, Doc.>¡± The Captain was the first to break the ice. ¡°¡± She made a little pause to gauge his reaction. Nothing but stoicism. ¡°¡± Doc took a sip of his tea. Then. ¡°¡± He¡¯s expression was sincere yet stoic. ¡°¡± He took another sip of his tea. ¡°Ah, so it was just a tiny mistake.¡± Arasha¡¯Ssabi took a sip of her tea, confirming her suspicion and feeling somewhat stupid for putting so much weight on such trivial detail. ¡°Of course it was.¡± Said a voice in defense of the old python. ¡°He¡¯s never let us down, you know. You are just sensible to all the little issues because of-¡° She made an imaginary gesture enveloping the entire recollection of The Potato Neglect. ¡°This.¡± The Captain blinked and smiled meekly in internal defeat. ¡°¡± Said Doc with fatherly concern, knowing well how the young snakegirl had been fluctuating in her thermal image ever since they met today. The Captain perked up at the mention of only her first name. ¡°¡± The question caught her completely off guard and she froze in shock, heart going nuts. ¡° Said Doc calm, gazing directly into her eyes. ¡°¡± He took another sip from his tea to let her process his words. ¡°¡± Arasha felt a hit cracking her reality for she knew it was true: her recent mistakes had led her to such conclusion, that her neglect almost brought death amongst her crew. And it wasn¡¯t some unforeseen accident or spanner in the works, it was an honest-to-goodness fuck up because she did not pay attention. But, she didn¡¯t want to admit it. Out of a misplaced sense of pride and because she didn¡¯t know how, and thus she held to the image of professionalism in hopes of soldiering through this unexpected topic, taking a (shaky) sip of her tea. The Doctor just waited in silence. It was an inevitable part of being the Captain of a space ship, they both knew: eventually someone under your direct leadership would experience a fatal situation caused by your mistakes (either because you dismissed the consequences of a crewmate¡¯s actions, you dismissed your own actions, or both). And it wasn¡¯t necessary for that someone to die to earn yourself a nice and juicy punishment. Oh no. Griveous body harm or long-lasting health issues (the kind that require constant treatment) were enough to guarantee a private chat with the Agency for Safety, Health, Order and Operation (A.S.H.O.O.)* as soon as they got news about your incursion to Darwin Town. Arasha knew this time it was her fault. Blessed be the powers beyond for not letting it become a full tragedy, but there was no denying that she played an important part on the whole mess, and it was this part what slowly teared at her heart. She averted her gaze still clinging to denial. And why shouldn¡¯t she deny it? A part of her reasoned, holding dear all her past success in her still young life. She was always told she was exemplary by her parents, unable to mess things up too much, unlike her siblings. She was always told by her peers and friends how prepared she was for assigments, and how good a study she could be. She passed the Academy with good grades, and her teachers praised her reliance on the rules and keeping things as danger-free as possible. And once she got her own ship, she made sure to only travel through safe routes and pick safe missions for the sake of her crew. It¡¯s just that real spacefaring is tough, you now, but she always faced things with dignity and made the best she could, just like all those brave and skillful protagonists from her favorite stories, who always found the silver-lining. In fact, just like them she was already working things out to fix up her mess before it got even bigger, before the A.S.H.O.O. can get them. So, why admit she failed when she was doing everything in her power to undo this, right? Right? Arasha teared up, unable to keep appearances anymore. ¡°¡± She looked down on her tea cup. ¡°¡± She channeled her training to prevent herself from outright crying, but her tears were still finding their way down her cheeks in silent defeat. ¡°¡± And the last word made her choke, unable to say anything more. The Doctor let her have her moment in silence. There were some things that had to be experienced by oneself before they were understood, so his current role was just as a friendly presence (of course, as the Head of Medical Staff, he was also bound to keep some emotional distance from his peers to prevent misjudgements, that¡¯s why he couldn¡¯t directly comfort her either). If anything, he quietly stood up and prepared another cup of warm tea for her and then gently slithered to her side to offer it. Arasha switched her cup for the new one with a non-verbal ¡°thank you¡±, and took a long sip of the comforting liquid to fight of the headache that now besieged her, paying no attention to anything else for a moment. Doc quietly returned to his desk and took another sip of his tea. There was another pause. ¡°<¡­I don¡¯t want to lose my job.>¡± Whispered Arasha with fear. ¡°¡± She looked at Doc straight in the eye, seeking his elder secrets. ¡°¡± The Doctor took a deliberate sip to force a pause, subtly influencing the young snakegirl to do the same. Then. ¡°¡± The Captain frowned-no, contorted into a pained expression of confusion, frustration, disillusion, anger, disgust, entitlement, and many other things that tried to collectively convey ¡°Doctor, what the fuck? You are older and more experienced than me! Tell me something useful! This is my first time dealing with a true punishment, and potential lawsuit, and lifelong guilt, and probable end to my career and my current romanti- ¡°¡± Commanded The Doctor after witnessing her evolving expression. Oh my god, can he read minds!? Thought Arasha with sudden concern for her inner privacy, wincing back. Suddenly, The Doctor chuckled. ¡°¡± Ugh, she felt her burden press at her soul even heavier. She was willing to take responsibility, yes, but she wanted to know how. And if The Doctor, the wisest individual she knew and trusted, couldn¡¯t answer her questions, then, she was left drifting in the void alone (or so she felt). Then, Doc slided his tablet towards her, were a text file was open showing something about a proceedure. ¡°How an A.S.H.O.O. interview goes.¡± She read the title. ¡°¡± Said The Doctor with a fatherly aura. ¡°¡± He took a sip of his tea, and Arasha saw a gleam in his eyes. ¡°¡± He chuckled. Arasha¡¯s burden was gently put aside as hope once again filled her heart with that silver-lining she so desperately sought. ¡°¡± She nodded with tears still present in her eyes. ¡°¡± Doc smiled. ¡°¡± ¡°¡± Arasha left her tea cup on the desk and gently took the tablet with a weary smile, ready to go the distance. ¡°¡± The lime-green Jornissian nearly dropped The Doctor¡¯s tablet in panic. She had forgotten all about that. ¡°And why did nobody suggest sending a message!?¡± Cried an inner voice in rage. Luckily, she managed to channel enough professionalism to say. ¡°¡± And with that, Captain Arasha¡¯Ssabi nodded in agreement and got back to read the tablet before her shame got the better of her, leaving The Doctor smiling fondly at her. The Captain¡¯s journey was far from over. Avafarce 33: A reason to love you In which the writer finally admits this was a (poorly made) rom-com all along! Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki was emotionally exhausted. As soon as she returned to her private quarters (a benefit of being a high-ranking individual) she let herself drop on her Karnakian-issued nestbed looking for some peace and quiet. It was a good thing the lights could be controlled from her comm-bead, because she did not want to get up for any reason whatsoever. Her team at the Bridge had bombarded her with questions and problems they already knew how to handle, but the recent crew-wide incident had left everyone double-checking themselves (including herself) and as their leader she had to provide them with morale support to ensure things got done, no matter the reason. The problem was (much like with her bestest friend Arykins) that she had nobody to support her. ¡­Or at least that¡¯s how she felt at the moment. She had lots of friends aboard Starbinder, even some blood relatives, and they all had cheered her up too, Arykins included. And yes, she did feel their support (things could be worse, after all). But, here¡¯s the thing: Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki (much like her besty) was still a bachelorette, and that void in her life had the particular skill of nagging at her whenever she got too stressed out, because a part of her would say ¡°Yes, that affection is all good and dandy. But, what if it also came from a guy who loved you, and hugged you, and kissed you and¡­?¡±. The sky-blue raptorgirl stared at nowhere in particular, annoyed at her own feelings. It was an incongruent part of life she didn¡¯t like, since it also made her feel as though she was undermining everyone¡¯s cheers because she was no longer happy. (But, that¡¯s frustration, ya know?) Without meaning to (or maybe she did?), Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki focused on what laid in her line of sight. Even in the darkness, she was so familiar with her room that she knew what she was looking at: her little workshop at the corner of her (admittedly utilitarian) habitat, where she kept all her crafts and doodads for crafting, like textiles, shiny accessories, glue, sharp tools, paint, paper, etc. etc.; the crafts themselves ranging from clothing like ponchos and scarves, to jewelry and plushies. A shrine of the soul for the soul, she believed. She let out a deep sigh, relaxing her body as she felt the sweet embrance of sleep slowly creeping through her being. In her particular cultural upbringing, crafts were considered more valuable than precious gems or money, as they were an expression of the inner self and your individual view of life, and as such, they were also considered the best social exchange between individuals. If you wanted to make friends or just show general affection, you would craft something for someone; but if you wanted to show your love or other deeper affection, you would craft something with someone, since producing something together meant there was a deeper conexion between souls. Quality varied, of course, but that could be improved with discipline and practice. The important factor in your craft was the part of ¡°you¡± you exposed for the world to see, what you could offer. And in the case of Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki, she had decided a long time ago she would offer her love for linguistics, imbuing her work with expressions and words she had learned from different languages as she traveled the stars. Case in point, her gifts for the Potatoes might be ponchos at first glance (which she just realized had been left on Arykins¡¯ quarters, by the way), but the true gift where the names written on them amidst their colorful decoration, which she had painstakingly tried to write using protectionese*. She smiled a warm and fuzzy smile, blinking slowly as she kept transitioning into the dream world. Just thinking of her work and its progress made her feel at ease and motivated, forgetting for a moment the frustrating feeling of being single. No, wait. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It made the feeling evolve into something else, something better, as she now focused her weary eyes on an object that stood out amidst her work like a star against the void. A funny thing, really, since the object itself was a humble piece of cardboard with two simple (albeit funny written) protectionese words: ¡°ELLO ELLO¡±. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki fell asleep, ready to replenish her soul with goodwill and love, as the image of that cardboard took her tired self to the land of milk and cookies. ¦®¡°[Ello ello~]¡±¦® Echoed the memory, the voice, the smile of Paul Potato Feathers. And she felt giddy inside, all her feathers rustling in a wave of elation. It had all been unintentional, she knew. Her interest in the Potatoes was like with the rest of the crew, mostly out of curiousity at their exotic behaviour and through the lenses of scientific discovery. And Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki never felt like approaching them at first, since she liked to watch things from afar (which is why she was a Bridge Chick instead of a field agent), and having control over all digital feedback made her content with her lot in life at the time, since she could consume Potato media at her own leisure. When she saw the ¡°still-to-be-enlightened¡± Mr. [Feathers] for the first time, she agreed that he was good eye candy. It was fact. But, she didn¡¯t particularly feel enthusiastic about his physical mannerisms like the other girls. No. Her interest laid entirely in his voice.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Paul Potato Feathers could talk protectionese, natural and familiar (as much as Karnakian vocal cords could, anyway), without a single trace of any Karnakian dialect whatsoever. ¡°How? Why?¡± Her mind would question without getting answers, pursuing the elusive mystery every time she would hear him speak. It was a purely intellectual obsession from her part, though, not strong enough to convince her to seek him out in person, since she felt it wouldn¡¯t add much. Until one of her teammates conviced her to attend the cultural exchange class their priest was running to ¡°enlighten¡± Paul, and she agreed to participate to figure if being in his presence was worth it or not. One thing was for sure, though. That class was a mess. Almost half the Karnakians in the crew were there, stuffed inside a creaking and screeching room build to little-needs-protecting standards. The cacophony of voices and enthusiastic gestures by her peers being above the norm, no doubt exaggerated in an effort to speed up their cultural assimilation of Mr. [Feathers], and she quickly understood why he was a shivering mass of anxiety who could only smile and stare in response. She was far from her ideal social environment as well, but, much to her frustration, the Karnakian legion had slowly moved her to the center of the group, so she couldn¡¯t leave without making a fuss. She just zoned out instead, waiting for the class to end. At some point, though, the priest decided to give her a respite by calling for the flock to do some quick crafting with the most basic of materials: cardboard and sharpies. ¡°Show us your inner selves!¡± Had said the ol¡¯ raptor, and everyone begun to scribble on their material. ¡°Finally something I can do.¡± Thought Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki at the time. And she wrote the first thing that came to her mind: ¡°ELLO¡± It was badly written protectionese, she knew, but she couldn¡¯t help but smile with pride. Nobody else on the ship could do that. OOF Another Karnakian suddenly bumped into her because of the crowded space. ¡°|Hey!|¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki before noticing she had dropped her newest craft and it was now on a journey through the forest of raptor legs. ¡°|No, no!|¡± She chased after it, bumping into others who quickly complained and glared. ¡°|I¡¯m sorry! Excuse me!|¡± She hastily tried to save face as her cardboard was pushed further away by their movements. Finally, the elusive thing came to a stop after entering a (suspicious) open space in the group, and the sky-blue raptorgirl smiled in relief. Before freezing up when Paul Potato Feathers reached from his spot to pick it up. ¡°[What¡¯s this?]¡± Said the emerald raptor. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki felt a sudden fear wash over her, as an instinctual anxiety brough to light one crucial detail: if anyone could judge her protectionese for what it was, it was him. She pathetically reached out a claw, shaking. ¡°|T-t-tha-|¡± She begun. ¡°[Ello Ello~]¡± Sang his voice, a smile leading out the words into the world as he delicately clutched the cardboard in his strong claws. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki felt her world take a sudden spin into the abstract realm. Then Paul proceeded to write ¡°ELLO¡± on her craft. ¡°[Ello Ello~]¡± Sang once more. Was this real? Was she suddenly imagining things? Did he just add his soul to her own??? ¡°|M-m-mine¡­|¡± Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki said clutching her claws together meekly, pleading. ¡°|T-t-that¡­mine.|¡± ¡°[Oh?]¡± Paul finally noticed her presence, and then chuckled nervously. ¡°[Sorry, this yours?]¡± He handed the cardboard to her, feeling awkward and guilty. ¡°[Sorry for writing on it, it¡¯s just, uh¡­]¡± He averted his gaze. ¡°[It reminded me of home.]¡± The Heavens parted, and a ray of light befell Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki in her hour of need as she stood there in disbelief, picking her cardboard without cutting her gaze from him and clutching it to her heart. ¦®¡°It reminded me of home¡­¡±¦® The words echoed in her mind, their cadence slipping in like the sweetest song. It had not been a scowl of rejection or a wince of disgust what she saw, what she heard. This stranger, who for some reason had mastered protectionese against all odds, had said her efforts reminded him of home. Her heart fired up and her soul smiled. And for the first time in her life, she could swear she was staring at a light brighter than a star. ¡°|T-thank you¡­|¡± Said Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki before sheepishly turning around and escaping the overwhelming pressure of the moment (and everyone¡¯s stares, for that matter), leaving the class altogether in a sudden rush for her private quarters, adrenaline gifting her feet the swiftness of wind itself. Everything else from that day would become a blur as her mind reserved itself to that feeling-given-form in the shape of a humble cardboard with funny written protectionese. And what was originally purely intellectual interest would transform into infatuation after witnessing what awaited beyond the compelling voice. Kr¡¯Re¡¯Ki clutched her bed in elation and hope, dreaming of words and crafts, of voices and songs. Things had gone wrong, perhaps, and they were far from over. But in her soul she knew she had a reason to keep trying, to keep fighting. And that gave her power. Avafarce 34: I only know I know nothing In which the writer shows he doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s doing. Paul was winning the game. And not just any game, mind you, but his favorite tv game: Know-it-all or Nothing! The quintessential quiz game where you answer trivial questions for lotsa money! ¦®¡°Yeeeess, sir!¡±¦® Said the blurry-faced game host. ¦®¡°And we are now onto the final round!¡±¦® HURRAY Cheered the echoes of an invisible crowd beyond. ¦®¡°With just 3 questions to go, our contestant has the chance to win the humble amount of¡­¦® Roll drums. ¦®¡°1 million GRC!¡±¦® WOO The crowd was excited. Paul shivered in ecstatic anxiety behind his podium, his huge reptilian shape making the piece of furniture seem comically small as he clutched it with his claws. His emerald green feathers were puffing in waves again and again while he grinned a sharp row of saurian teeth, barely containing his eagerness to continue raking those sweet, sweet points, his four eyes fixed on the game host at the center of the stage. This was the first time in his life he was ever going to win something big, something meaningful, and to his delight, the game had been all about him! ¦®¡°Are you ready to continue, Mr. Gutierrez?¡±¦® Said the game host, sporting a stylish gray suit as its only meaningful feature. ¦®¡°Or would you rather give up your pursuit and go home with a brand new¡­¡±¦® The echo gestured to its side and a light gave life to the holographic display of a¡­ ¦®¡°Skyblazer EX Titan!¡±¦® WOW The crowd gasped at the sight of the luxurious sports-type starship. Paul¡¯s heart bounced to his throat. He knew that starship. It was worth way more than a measly million GRC, and they were giving him the chance to have it instead? ¦®¡°Take the ship! Take the ship!¡±¦® Said the invicible echoes beyond. Paul got nervous at the offer, feathers tensing up. It was a tempting prize, for sure, but it wasn¡¯t a ¡°win¡± in the whole technical sense of the word, and he wanted to win the final prize. Besides, something felt wrong about it. ¦®¡°Take the ship! Take the ship!¡±¦® Insisted the echoes. ¦®¡°Don¡¯t be a coward!¡±¦® Said one that felt too familiar for comfort. ¦®¡°What¡¯s it gonna be, Mr. Gutierrez? You only got 5 seconds to answer.¡±¦® Pressured the game host. ¦®¡°5¡­! 4¡­!¡±¦® Went the crowd. ¡°I, uh¡­¡± Paul tried to think, gaze scattered in frantic indecision. ¦®¡°3¡­! 2¡­!¡±¦® ¡°No.¡± Something deep in his consciousness spoke for him, confronting the unrelenting pressure surrounding him. ¦®¡°No, Mr. Gutierrez? Are you sure?¡±¦® Said the game host. BOO went the crowd against Paul. ¦®¡°YOU COWARD.¡±¦® Said that familiar voice. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Said Paul with sudden restrain, feeling intimidated at the crowd¡¯s sudden rejection. The peer pressure alone had reminded him of a time his ¡°friends¡± convinced him to go on a not-so-legal adventure, many years ago, and that put a sour taste in his mouth. ¦®¡°Very well! Onto the first question then!¡±¦® The game host gestured again and the place changed mood, lights going dim and drums rolling in dramatic anticipation. ¦®¡°For 1 million GRC we ask you¡­¡±¦® Dramatic pause. ¦®¡°What is the nickname of the goose that terrorized your school¡¯s backyard?¡±¦® ¡°Hah! Easy.¡± Paul¡¯s confidence returned with a smile. ¡°Kneecapper.¡± ¦®¡°CORRECTO MUNDO.¡±¦® Said the game host, triggering the winning chime and the colorful lights that confirmed the answer. YEAH The crowd went wild. Paul sighed with relief, his feathers relaxing again. He could still do this. ¦®¡°Now for the next question¡­¡±¦® Roll drums, please. ¦®¡°For 1 million GRC we ask you¡­¡±¦® Dramatic pause. ¦®¡°Did you ever know one Mr. Ortega and his ¡°gang¡±, Mr. Gutierrez?¡±¦® OOOH The crowd gasped.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Paul was taken aback. Those were his former ¡°friends¡±, individuals he was not too pleased to remember because of what had happened with them, and for a moment he hesitated to answer. ¡°No, no.¡± Rationalized a voice in his consciousness. ¡°It¡¯s the final round, so of course it¡¯s gonna be difficult. But you got this, Paul, you got this.¡± ¦®¡°You better not snitch, Paul!¡±¦® Said a familiar voice amongst the invisible crowd beyond. Paul averted his gaze, unsure what to say. ¦®¡°You only need answer ¡°yes¡± or ¡°no¡±, Mr. Gutierrez.¡±¦® Said the game host, its voice feeling more authorative. ¦®¡°For 1 million, do you know Mr. Ortega and his gang?¡±¦® There was a cold pause. ¡°Yes.¡± Said Paul, lowering his gaze. ¦®¡°Correct.¡±¦® Said the game host, but there were no cheers this time, only a growing pressure surrounding him (and the distant disappearing echo of a familiar voice accusing him of something). Paul lost his confidence, limbs feeling heavy, tail dropped to the floor. This was beginning to feel like a different kind of event. ¦®¡°Now, tell us, Mr. Gutierrez.¡±¦® Said the host, its voice cold and authorative. ¦®¡°Where you with Mr. Ortega and his gang at the parking lot when they tried to steal Mr. Najera¡¯s Skyblazer?¡±¦® Time slowed down as the words resonated through Paul¡¯s consciousness, digging out memories he thought he would never have to relive again. ¡°Yes¡­¡± He said with guilt, unaware of how his surroundings had begun to shift, feeling ever so closer, restrictive. ¦®¡°Correct.¡±¦® Said the host, taking out a bunch of photographs from its now black suit to throw non-chalantly on Paul¡¯s podium, as the latter changed into a non-descript table, confirming his answer. Paul looked in horror at the evidence that showed his young (blurry) self standing at a nearly empty parking lot, his (equally blur) recollection of his ¡°friends¡± trying to pry open a Skyblazer starship owned by a local rich guy in an attempt to be ¡°audacious¡±. It was a stupid idea, he knew (and he had told them so), but that night Ortega had gotten his hands on a supposed ¡°skeleton key¡± for fancy starships and everyone agreed to try it out no matter what. Since he had no other friends back then, he went along with it after being pressured by the gang under penalty of ¡°chicken tag¡± (a socially devastating punishment), only to be used as the scapegoat as soon as things turned south and the Agents got wind of their presence. He was left behind with the skeleton key in hand to be captured. ¦®¡°We know you didn¡¯t want to be a part of it, Mr. Gutierrez.¡±¦® Said the Agent. ¦®¡°We have reviewed the records.¡±¦® Then, it pointed at one of the pictures of the gang. ¦®¡°So, tell us where to find the others and Mr. Najera will let you go without charges.¡±¦® ¡°Don¡¯t answer.¡± Said a voice in his consciousness. ¡°You are no snitch.¡± And Paul hesitated. ¡°Uh, I-I¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± He whispered while fidgeting with his feathers. ¦®¡°What was that?¡±¦® ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He barely raised his voice, confused now. BANG The Agent hit the desk to get his attention, startling him. ¦®¡°Bullshit, Mr. Gutierrez! I find it hard to believe you followed the others to this exact parking lot, at this exact hour, without knowing anything about them. How to meet them, how to find them.¡±¦® Paul recoiled in his spot, trying to diminish himself despite being a huge raptor towering over the memory of this intimidating Agent. He was just a teenager back then, after all. ¦®¡°Where can we find them, Mr. Gutierrez?¡±¦® Paul still hesitated, unable to tell what was what anymore, heart beating fast and gaze darting everywhere and nowhere. ¦®¡°Where can we find them, Mr. Gutierrez?¡±¦® Insisted the Agent, its voice getting distorted. Little by little he felt his surroundings getting consumed by the void in his consciousness, focusing the memory of the moment ever closer to the Agent itself, to its presence, to its pressure. ¦®¡°Where can we find them, Mr. Gutierrez?¡±¦® Echoed the Agent. Paul clutched his head, unable to bring himself to answer. Not because he didn¡¯t want to at this point, but because he genuinely didn¡¯t remember that part of the memory now, as if it had been cut from his mind altogether. ¦®¡°Mr. Gutierrez?¡±¦® The Agent was consumed by the darkness, though Paul could still feel its presence. ¦®¡°Mr. Gutierrez¡­?¡±¦® It¡¯s voice was now further away. ¦®¡°Mr. ¡­errez?¡±¦® Then, the fear begun to wash away. ¦®¡°[Mr. ¡­rez?]¡±¦® Until he was just lost in the great expanse of the void within the consciousness, aware and yet not aware, his body rested and comfortable, ¡°at peace¡± you could say. And he knew he was ¡°in the now¡± despite not thinking about it. ¦®¡°[Mr. ¡­thers?]¡±¦® The dream-not-dream was over and so was the nightmare. Now, the only thing that remained was the certainty that he was still alive and returning to reality. ¦®¡°[Mr. [Feathers]?]¡±¦® And with that certainty came the realization that he was currently laying on a hospital bed staring at the side, the gentle face of a raptorman gazing upon him with worry, calling to him. ¡°[Mr. [Feathers]?]¡± Said the Karnakian nurse yet again. And Paul Potato Feathers regained full consciousness of his current lot in life.