'The great horn hates me', Naterc thought. The new captain Naterc, herd head of the Star Bull, his "Ship",stared transfixed at his screen. His brown hazel eyes stared at the creatures within the cells on his bridge from a monitor in his cabin. Those things in the old cell block were a payday even if they were critically injured they were worth more than the ship. They might even be worth enough to get some respect within his own herd, and gain honor worthy of the Master Bull, or as others were allowed to say, “Father.”

Ah, Father, a great and powerful warrior standing at least four times Naterc's own size with horns to match. He and his horns were perhaps the largest of his kind. Rumor has it that his father broke an enemy ship with a single charge, though Narec knew the truth. To other species who saw Father, he was a "master" merchant, and possibly the greatest diplomat. To his people and his family, his power and influence rivaled that of a god. Naterc saw his other side, however. He saw the disgust and hate Father dispensed to the weak and the timid. The beatings, the forced labor, and camps. But worst of all, Father saw Naterc as weak. Why he did Neterc never knew, but that didn't stop Father from trying to "fix" him.  As some glorious show, Father gave Naterc the Star Bull, a useless husk of a ship. He then gave Naterc a mission: deliver soldiers and armaments for a campaign in some backwater solar system. Father prided himself over this insult; he had given Natrec a job fit for a fiend. Naterc could still feel the shame when he received his orders to cheers and joyous music. The king had spoken, and Natrec had no choice but to oblige. But his luck held, at least for today. Natrec’s massive horned head leaned back into his chair as he started to drift off to sleep. Finding a random ship filled with what could only be called living treasures was bound to be fruitful. After all, he’d only planned to deliver what Father told him to. Just a quick dry dock on a nearby planet meant that there was more for the taking. 'If he had anything over his family, it was luck. But was it right to do this?' Naterc had no words to describe it really, just the feeling of something not right. Perhaps he was truly weak like this family said.

Then Natrec’s cabin filled with red light. Dread filled his mind as his body kicked into action. Natrec barked orders to his crew to get armed and ready for anything, using the lie of raiders to motivate them. His thoughts, however, were only one thing: his luck just ran out.   

Chip felt a mad glee form in the pit of his stomach like some barbaric bastard. That man should never be compared with anything remotely human. Chip destroyed that small crack of doubt. The truth was that this place was a joke. He doubted he needed the rest of his plan; he could have done it himself. That plan began with a small insectoid with four legs and mandibles that emerged from the right of the cell. It held a dataslate on its back, but as it was going to speak, Chip grabbed it and slammed it into the bars completely destroying its body. What remained was a bloody pulp of a being with random limbs and gore all over.  “Well damn,” Chip grumbled as he grabbed and pulled the body into the cell. 

Brombre began to laugh in sharp deep yelps as he lunged at the body and began eating some of the mangled corpse. The elf, however, was on the verge of vomiting. Chip swallowed his sympathy and looted the body, taking what he assumed to be a key card.

“First mistake was that the bars were too wide. That, and just cheap metal with no electric charge running through them. I could have gotten out easily even with these chains, and a lack of guards is pathetic. You didn’t even have any motion-detecting currents,” Chip coldly critiqued.

He then reached over to the door and rubbed the card to the side. The interface processed the keycard, and the cell's bars hissed upward.  Chip found the lights and turned them on. The elf rushed out of the cell into the corridor followed by a cheerful Brombre dragging a massive suit of armor behind him from the cell they were in. Chip left last, grabbing a low-power pulse pistol.

Chip followed after the two into the corridor. He emerged into what appeared to be a cargo hold, with long corridors and broad cells that, on a quick glance, should've housed various goods. Instead, the hold contained arms and ammunition, with weapon racks and ammo storage rooms haphazardly welded together in an almost callus way. In fact, scrap metal comprised most of the modifications, the metal itself seeming to bite into the walls just to stay together. It was almost as if this ship was purposefully retrofitted in the worst way possible. Most merchants saw their ship as home, even more that their home planet. If this was indeed a merchant ship, then such disrepair was odd. Chip made his way across the decrepit cargo hold to the only other exit nearby. He then held up his dataslate and pressed it against the door’s slide release, revealing a manic Brombre brandishing his large gun and a pistol in the air. Small blades fell from his body the size of six-inch knives. 

The large rifle was simple, with two large holes like something out of a Western. It had a crude stock and only two shots, but damn it was big, almost twice the size of the pistol. Chip winced when he saw Brombre loading that gun with a copper-looking shell as he darted out the room. Chip then glanced at the dataslate hoping for any map or ship layout, but he simply sighed. It was barely functional, and the rough abuse that Chip had done to it did not help at all. The elf waited behind him holding two of the small blades with repulse in each hand. Chip glanced at the elf, sighed and entered into the bowels of the ship. Then he got lucky; about a meter from the cell there was a holomap of the ship with designated quarters for the major officers and Captain. Useful hostages, all of them Chip whistled as the elf glanced at him.

" So, we capture this Capitan and use him as a political hostage for the time being, then we check my ship. I’ll sweep the bridge while you scout out the second cargo bay, my ship should be there. It's on your right, go straight down and you’ll find it," Chip explained, pointing to his right then rubbing his forehead and finally grinned. 

"Yer a right cunt, you know that? Fine, I’ll play yer game for now. But if you double cross me, I'll take yer head," stated the elf. Chip snorted at his empty threat. That man would threaten you as soon as greet you. Really, the fact this was Chip's Fifth time hearing the “take your head” threat annoyed him more than anything else. The elf was not original at all. 

There are three things that Brombre loves above all: screams, gunfire and the sound of clashing steel. These were his instruments, the battlefield his orchestra, and he its conductor. Brombre took off at a full sprint to the end of the corridor. The foolish bug-things and scaly beasts fired their pitiful arms in a vain attempt to halt Brombre's onslaught. He returned their greeting with his own, firing his rifle into their rigid bodies.  Brombre roared as he fired again and again at anything that moved, ultimately destroying his rifle as he bashed one beast’s head in. Laughing, he rushed forward and fired his pistol. The werid aliens and their stupid customs with strange disgusting muck at Brombre feet and he almost spat at his ground. The boom of the gun, the smell of the smoke, it was like home. Then he decided to switch to one of his many blades. The shining blades sliced through all those who stood in his way until he saw an actual challenge. Finally, Brombre thought giddily as he readied his blades, glancing over the side of the corner at his foes. Two guards stood before him, one of which was a big heavy-horned bull beast similar to one on his home planet. What a shame they were mostly stolen from his planet by the gods. The second was a scaly beast with a sharp tail and a large light-blasting gun. Brombre stopped and checked what resources he had left. 

'Three bullets, one Round head and seven blades. This will be a good time' Brombre mused. When he gets home, his tales will be legendary. Brombre assumed a firing position and cocked his pistol. One of the beast's ears turned to meet Brombre's gaze, its last action.

"Eat this, Drecksviecher" Brombre shouted, then fired. The recoil shook Brombre, though he was rewarded with the bullet entering the head of the bull beast through the right eye, blowing out the brain. The lizard turned its light gun on him and fired, narrowly missing Brombre as he dodged. Brombre dove to the ground while throwing the round head, or what hum’n called a “bomb.” He couldn't light the fuse, but it was still a large round heavy container of burst powder and spark liquid or “gunpowder” and “nitrogen.” The lizard beast blasted the round head and made it explode, pushing both Brombre and the lizard away from each other. He hit the floor hard, tasting a little blood in his mouth as he sat up chuckling and feeling victorious. 

“Well then, drecksviecher... when you go to the great beyond, remember that is was Lampart Brombre who killed-”

The sound of snapping bone sent shivers down Brombre’s spine, stopping his triumphant statement cold. A red shadow came from the door the beings were guarding as he saw the lizard, now prone and with shrapnel peppered all over its body, firing wildly into the figure that was holding its head. It screamed as the towering figure stabbed something into the lizard's body, then crushed the lizard's head. The guard fell limp as its blood drained down... no, it was being absorbed into the beast. Brombre felt true fear, something he hadn’t felt since he was a child on the battlefield. The blast has given him slight wounds, but he could still crawl and maybe run. Slowly inching back to the left of the corridor, he removed his harness hidden under his fur and held a blade while crawling towards his gun, his eyes transfixed on the smoke cloud and the beast that turned within.

"Bro? Where is bro? Where is bro? Where is bro?" 

It repeated this chant as it searched through the smoke. Brombe could hear the beast’s footsteps coming towards him. From the smoke the beast threw the remains of the lizard at Brombre and howled. Brombre shuddered  and he realized it was time to pull back. A good warrior knows when to pull back to regroup and rearm. 

'It was not cowardly', Brombre reassured himself. His worn limbs struggled to let him move, but he simply grunted and squirmed as he tried to escape the monster. Brombre was strong, well-trained and healthy. But even his movements were sluggish in comparison as he barely dodged waves of red tendrils. He jumped forward and turned on his heels while firing, but he faltered and grunted in pain. Once more, he aimed his gun at the beast, taking a good long look before firing. It was female, almost like a human woman. It had a red blade in hand and flowing blood-crimson hair similar to its hate-filled glowing eyes. Then it it came at him at a full sprint. Brombre fought every urge and instinct that ran through his head as he stood his ground. With the final bullet in the chamber, Brombre fired at the beast, now inches away. The pistol’s swan song was glorious, but it was not enough. Moments before more tendrils attacked, he felt something throw himself back. Brombre propped himself up just in time to see the monster and the elf brawl. The elf, despite its feeble build and cowardly nature, managed to hold its own. It danced around Brombre's attacker, leaving countless slashes as it went. The flurry of cuts only sent the creature into a rage as it swung at its new victim. Brombre tried to stand to help the elf, but the blast had hurt him far more than he had realized. All he could do now was watch. The elf continued its assault, his blades could no even closer cutting at the red armour that seemed to pour out of this beast cuts.  The elf finally slowed, and the beast took its chance. It grabbed the elf’s blades and punched them with such force that it launched the elf back down the hall. 

The beast roared triumphantly, and Brombre readied himself for the killing blow. Laying his head back on the cold steel floor, he hears a voice ringing from the heavens. The calling angel sprinted from the corridor and stopped before the monstrosity. "Betty, stop! I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m right here, just please… calm down, follow my scent and come find me.” The beast sniffed the air and visibly calmed down, then just walked away.  Brombre sat torn and haggard in a pool of his own blood. He would live, but only from something stupid. 'Robbed of an honorable death, by Chip no less? This failure would no doubt taint his mind for years to come. How could he live this down?' Brombre stared at Chip bitterly until he drifted into unconsciousness. 

 

'The bull bastard was too weak,' Chip criticized . In a fight it would have folded him like a pencil in a trash compactor. But he lacked the will and the mental strength to hone his ability to kill. Yes, that was it; he lacked the will to fight. Despite the force he was given much the same he used it well. Dividing his force in such a way that would allow for each crew to do what they were best at. Funny thing was they were so understaffed and with outdated and what could be described as a simple militia , he had met- "Who are you?" the bull asked with a even tone. The captain and the large hairy beast closer to the large gray and brown-spotted bull it's long ebony horns, sat in his head with a bar chair as the other crew watched in true fear. They didn't try to run; they knew they would die tired. Chip aimed the gun at the bull's nose as he glanced around at the horrified creatures. Most of the room consisted of the rabbit-like Minkis, and they were thankfully acting as docile as they looked. I could punch my way out if need be, Chip thought. Might even have enough ammo to put them all down before that. With the way they're grouped, it'd be like shooting fish in a barrel. 'No, now I'm sounding like Brombre. Besides, I can think of a way where we both... benefit'. Chip schemed as he stared into the bull creature. He was going to persuade them all to be his crew. Chip cleared this throat. 

"So you're all going to die," Chip stated bluntly. The crew recoiled in horror. 'Shit', Chip swore in his head. Not a good start. His poker face broke for a moment revealing his embarrassment. 'No one noticed though', so Chip readied to continue.  His persuasion attempt was stopped, however, by a wet thud at the command deck's door. As the door slid open, Chip turned to see an inky black creature slither into the room. 'Ah hell, here we go', he though. But his sight turned into a scream as the black mass jumped onto his body. The bull and the other creatures stepped back and reached for their weapons;, while pulse weaponry might not do much, a weapon was a weapon, and death was a liquid beast.  Chip's face narrowed as he calmly closed his mouth and plugged his nose. He glared through the dark liquid as it's red eyes emerged and stared back. It then stopped, and reeled back slightly out of recognition. Upon recognizing her friend, Veronica sloughed off into the floor and cocooned. Usually it would take her some time detaching from her prey; last time it took about an hour to get her off that security guard at the station. But she'd always check for friends just in case, and luckily Chip was one of them. Chip stood and stared at the now flabbergasted crew. Even the bull stood aghast, his fist gripped tightly around his comparatively tiny pulse pistol. Chip grinned and rolled with his newfound respect. "With that out of the way, I have a proposal for you all. If you accept, you will live for today, perhaps longer. You may even live long enough to see your family again… ey, bull ?" Chip gestured towards the bull’s hand that gripped the pulse pistol. The bull then spoke smoothly as it holstered the pistol.  "The ship is yours, just spare my crew. Let no more die on my behalf." 

Chip kept his weapon pointed at the bull, a sly smile forming on his face. “You read my mind. PA system, where is it?”

The bull pointed at a panel across the room against a wall, never taking his eyes off Chip or the crew. Chip inched his way to the panel, keeping his pistol leveled at the bridge crew. Glancing over at the panel, he tapped at its screen blindly. The PA chimed, and Chip finally felt comfortable enough to look away from the crew and speak into the microphone.

"Betty? I’m fine, it’s all good in here. Follow my scent and come find me.” 

Chip then turned off the system and faced the crew. "Move away from the doors," he barked as he rushed towards the door to face the crimson giant.

Betty, Chip's adopted little sister and personal bodyguard, was a monster. Her lineage hailed from the remnants of human forces on Earth. Soldiers from all banners held the line against foreign invaders for as long as they could so that humanity may yet escape. And while they were successful, they paid dearly for it. The bodies of those who survived were ravaged by Formicmayr, their biomass harnessed to spawn the Morphids, or "Bug Boys” as known by the survivors. The Morphids were strong, brutish even; and with some inheriting powers beyond imagination, they seemed nigh invincible. But their stunted maturity and lack of independence kept most of them in line. Most, of course, besides Betty. 

Her slow and laboured movement was a good sign;, coming down from a blood high often comes with insane physical and mental swings, so a gradual decline was better. Chip moved to the left of the doorway as Betty leaned over, almost falling. Her dimed eyes wavered as she walked forward to Chip and slumped  onto him as the excess blood dripped down his shoulders. This was normal, but it opened up his back to any and all attacks, and he didn't trust the crew. Tilling his head back, it appeared that they did have their weapons drawn, but not on him. Instead, all arms were aimed at the cocoon that had started to crack the dark shell,  fine by him. Slowly but surely he lowered Betty to the ground, laying her gently down with a strain on his body. He then peered back down the hall to see the beaten form of Brombre being dragged along by the elf. All things considered, it could have been worse; most Bug Boy rampages like Betty’s would have killed all the crew, friendly or not. Chip turned to the once again armed crew.

"Alright, listen up: you’ve already put me in charge of this rust-bucket, so I’m giving orders from here on out. You wanna get home intact? You do as I say.” Chip looked to the captain. “You, bull. You got a name?” 

The captain grunted in a low, gruff tone, attempting to hide his fear. His eyes drifted downward to the hard metal floor like a prisoner questioned by a warden. 

"I am Naterc, Minor Boarus. I hope you keep your word." "Well,” Chip sighed, “I’d be more inclined to keep my word if your crew would bring my friends to the medbay. Oh, and I wouldn't wake Betty or my friend in the cocoon there.” Chip leaned toward Naterc for dramatic effect. “They can get… moody, if you catch what I mean.” 

Narterc nodded aggressively, and Chip reeled back in laughter. “Perfect! Now, on to business.” He proceeded to throw himself into the captain’s chair, leaning both of his legs over the right armrest. “Naterc, was it? Be a good mate and bring me the communications officer. We’ll be having a meeting; I wanna know where we’re going, and who I’ll be talking to when we get there. And you!”

Chip grabbed ahold of one of the passing crew members and turned them to face him. “Get me a spiffy uniform.”

 The crewmate nodded and scurried off as Naterc walked forward, guiding a dark brown Minki with a grey-spotted left eye towards the captain’s chair. It hesitated, then cleared its throat.

"He-hello, sir. I am the Communications Officer of the Star Bull. How may I be of assistance?” The Minki shook lightly, obviously afraid for its life. Chip put on a cold and uncaring look, then clicked his teeth. “Well, at least I won’t need an interpreter. Now listen here, you two. I don’t intend on ta...” Chip trailed off as he heard the telltale sounds of a cracking cocoon. His face turned sour and he started to sweat as he stood up and looked back to the cocoon and to the other crewmates..

“Scratch that, where the hell is that med transport? What’s taking them so long? I could’ve sworn I told someone to get on that! “  His words fell on deaf ears as the crew all stared transfixed at the cracking cocoon. Chip sighed in annoyance as the cocoon erupted, revealing a voluptuous form. It was sleek and dark with scarlet eyes, and its vaguely humanoid stature seemed to mimic Chip’s vexed stance. The figure could have been mistaken for a shadow, had it not been for its tiny horns and quite literally floating blonde hair. Veronica, now in her mimic form, turned to face Chip and formed a sly smile. She strode up to him, sliding an appendage up and down her figure in a seductive manner. It was all an act, of course; Veronica seeked nothing other than Chip’s embarrassment. And if nothing else, she’d certainly be amused. As she wrapped that same appendage around Chip’s shoulders, Veronica looked around the room and gave everyone a not-so-subtle wink. “Need me to handle the transport problem, Chippy?”

Chip shuddered and pushed Veronica away. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you language lessons! Cut the act already, it’s freaking the crew out.” He went to sit back down, but stopped and turned back around. “Y’know what, sure. You can handle the problem. It’ll get you as far from me as possible.”

Veronica huffed, her scheme in ruins. She wrapped her arms around the unconscious Brombre and the conscious elf, then saw herself out while the elf shouted in protest. Chip sighed. “With friends like these..” He turned to the Communications Officer, eyebrow raised. “What’s your name, officer? The officer's fluffy ears twitched as he looked to Chip, and he shifted in place nervously. Chip’s gaze seemed wolf-like, perhaps in an unneeded attempt to regain some respect. The officer glanced away nervously before responding. 

“Elfa, sir. My name… is Elfa.” Chip stifled a chortle. His Minkis was rusty, but he knew enough to know that this poor thing was named “weak.” 'That seems to be a running theme', Chip mused, everything around this ship being subpar. Maybe getting stuck here wasn’t the worst thing after all. And speaking of...

"I think I’ll leave the strategizing for later,” Chip said while standing. “Elfa, take me to my ship. I’d like to make sure you lot haven’t torn it apart to patch up this junker or something.”. The two prepared to leave the bridge when something slid up and blocked the door. Veronica sat against the doorway with a look of petty vengeance plastered across her inky face. 

“Oh, Chippy,” she called out. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” She smiled as she stuck out a tentacle and whipped Betty across her face. Everyone seemed to freeze as Veronica shrunk her tentacle back, gave a little wave, and walked away triumphantly.

"Damnit, Veronica,” Chip shouted as he rushed to Betty. “Why the hell would you-?!"

Betty’s body twitched as she shot up from her slumber, her eyes darting around manically as she searched for her aggressor. Then a growl slowly grew from her throat as droplets of blood slid down her face like tears. Betty stampeded toward where the inky vixen once stood, with Chip and Efla tailing behind. Chip could hear Veronica’s cackling down the hall as he sprinted after Betty. His stomach dropped when he realized where the two had stopped: Veronica had baited Betty into the medbay. Brombre and the elf would certainly die in the chaos if nothing was done. Chip calmed his nerves, then pushed his way past Betty to stand between the Morphids. “Betty, calm! Calm down, please! You’re scaring me Betty, stop!” Betty, fortunately, had not succumbed fully to her rage. Shock spread across her face as she peered down to meet Chip’s concerned gaze. Her flowing blood quickly switched to tears as Betty scooped Chip up into a bear hug. “I sorry!” she cried. “I protect Chip! Do not be scared! I sorry!”

Chip sputtered for air as Betty’s grip tightened. “It… ack… it’s fine, Betty. You’re fine… Ya mind letting me go?” Betty shook her head. “Not until Chip feel better!” Chip sighed and looked over to the elf in the corner, who shakily gave a thumbs up. He then turned to Veronica, who blew a raspberry at him.  'At share least they’re okay', Chip thought as he looked back up to Betty. 

“Well, could… could you at least follow that crewmate for me?” He jerked his head to Elfa who had finally made it to the medbay. Betty nodded, and the trio made their way back into the hall.   Their ship was large, sleek and white, with a red cross on the right and a blood-red dragon head with a knife through it on the left. It was no battleship, sure, but for a light-armored strikecraft with a plethora of slug throwers and lazguns, the ship was a ten-meter bundle of kick-ass. Betty hummed cheerfully whilst carrying Chip, with Chip himself eyeing over his one and only FTL capable home. Chip tapped Betty's arms and she nodded, setting him down close to the ship.

“Shit Betty, you think she’ll still run?”

Betty looked down at Chip and smiled. “Don’t know, but we find out.”

Chip tapped on the side of the ship, and it responded by lowering its rear ramp. The two stepped into their home among the stars with a renewed sense of confidence, ready for whatever was thrown their way.