.
'Home is small,' Chip happily thought as he stared through the crimson glow of the emergency light. The low-power lights and the fact the ship was so heavily damaged killed the triumphant mood Chip noted.
 Navigation was out, the FTL was damaged, and only the ship’s atmosphere and communication were still somewhat functional. Of the ship’s three engines, only one was used for transport. Chip's scouting ship was small but with an emphasis on speed, often skipping from jump to jump for quick galactic travel. The second generator was for the ship and Betty and her needs in general, and the final original engine was for the ship, fridge, and other less important systems. The only engine with no damage was weakest, used mainly for the medical bay, mostly for Betty who would somehow always get wounded.  First, he checked the communication systems, then sighed as he looked at the emergency signal. Then he strutted over to his room, a claustrophobic cube of a bunk room, then gave out marching orders.
“The ship is busted. We’ll need to scavenge any and all supplies. But first, I am going to get dressed.” Chip turned to his cohorts. “Veronica, watch the elf. Elf and Bombre, just wait here. I will get something for you too. Betty, get changed and gathered up supplies. And Elfa, wait outside, please. Just keep anyone and everyone out of my ship.”
 Chip then entered his quarters. Veronica grinned as she looked at Elfa’s fleeing form; Chip noticed and shuddered. That always interested Veronica, such expressions of emotions from most life forms. She however was a friend of Chip somewhat, so she instead wrapped two tendrils around the legs of the elf and the beast-man annoying them both. Elfa, however, was far slower as he walked back to the entrance of the ship and started his watch. 
As Elfa and Veronica left to do the small tasks, Chip entered his quarters. It was simple: a wall-mounted bed and bathroom with a small closet. Chip flung the closet open revealing both regular clothes and space jumpsuits, the standard light grey full-body spandex material. The first thing Chip did, however, was take a quick shower, washing away the grime and dirt of his prison cell. He then quickly dried and dressed in one of the jumpsuits. Finally, he began to pillage the room by grabbing one of his many spare duffel bags and packing away his stuff: his clothes, shoes, spare handguns, and most importantly, ammo. 
'It always hurts packing up and leaving what you love,' Chip noted as he placed spare suits and clothing into his bag before moving on to personal effects. It was then that his eyes moved to the empty birdcage in the corner, its white coating beginning to peel. It was a poor, broken thing, but Chip could not bring himself to get rid of it. He turned back to his bags. 
'I couldn’t do it. Of course, I couldn't.' Chip struggled to remain objective and impersonal as he glanced back at the cage. The one that his father gave him. In shame, Chip grabbed his bags and left the room. He hated keeping it around; it was an object that was both a clue of his identity and a liability, but he couldn’t.  With a grim mood, Chip lumbered over to Betty’s quarters, moving past the ship’s tiny armory. He coughed, took in a deep breath, then knocked. 'She was a lady, even if she is a morphip' Chip thought. The room was silent for a moment, then he heard a loud thud and the sound of shuffling towards the door. 'Crap, I made a mistake, I should have waited for a second longer,' he thought, guiltily shifting from foot to foot. It was then the door slid open to reveal Betty. Her toothy grin and horrible pin-up pose gave Chip the impression she was hiding something, but that could wait until after the ship had been unpacked. Hopefully.
Chip glanced around Betty’s room; it was as pink and girly as possible, with a big heart-shaped bed and fluffy pink furniture to boot. The chairs around a nearby table had fluffy pink coverings with bedazzled backs, and cute little toys, plushies, and posters littered the walls and floor. Even her weights, from the smallest paperweight to the 900-pound plates, were pink. It was always considered by Bombre and Veronica strange that her taste was so exaggerated, but those that knew Betty knew she was a girly girl like her childhood dream was to be a princess and have a fairy tale life. Sadly, life was not so fair. For Betty, there was no time for whimsical adventures and royal tea parties. The war she was born into had seen to that. She had even tried to make her combat harness pink, but Chip refused. Instead, he allowed her to decorate her room as she saw fit, just to get a taste of some other life.
“Are you ready Betty?” Chip inquired, clearly struggling under the weight of the items in his bags.
“Yeah bro, I’m fine. Just not sure why you carry that when I can.” Betty replied, grabbing her pink duffle bag. 'I was fine,' Chip thought annoyed, but he said nothing and let Betty lead the way to the armory. In between Chip and Betty’s rooms, there was a door with a logo emblazoned on it: a bear with an axe above its head. It was a gift from someone that Chip would call a bastard of a friend, but it was a gift nonetheless. The armoury door hissed and scraped open as Chip stepped into the room, eyeing his ship's collection. It was a modest armoury; various rifles lined half of the wall in front of him that filled his every need, with ammunition to match adjacent to his left. Sniper rifles, assault rifles, SMGs, handguns of both traditional and hyper-coils, and the more eccentric weapons. It also held three anti-tank rifles, assorted breaching and demolition charges, along with one bomb that Chip lovingly called the “Last Resort”. Of course, these were the weapons meant for Chip; there were… others.
 Four large, almost titanic guns took up most of the rest of the room in the armory. The four beasts fired anything from .50 caliber to anti-aircraft rounds, and they had the heft to back it up. And next to it all, two polished sets of black chromium alloy armor, one noticeably larger than the other. Chip quickly started packing both the traditional propellant handguns and their coil alternatives. Betty, however, just packed her bags and followed Chip, neglecting all of the hefty weaponry.
“Bro, do I need all of this?” Betty complained as she slumped her rucksack onto the floor while sluggishly putting on her armor.
“Better to have it and not need it, especially with guns.” Chip retorted as he turned with his bags, waddling through the door. His waddling stopped, however, as Veronica appeared just outside the doorway.
“Come on human, I am bored. Hurry this up!” Veronica began, her tendril line creeping to Chip. 
“Soon, I just want to be ready for anything… Look, if you help me I’ll…  I’ll do one minor thing from your wishlist” Chip bargained as he struggled to pass her.
Veronica's form shifted and her annoyance grew; she almost got enraged but realized he was asking. Chip never asked he stated. This time must be serious,  Veronica figured.
“Fine, I think staying in your room is good enough for now” she grinned, lifting both Chip and his bags. Chip was embarrassed, but he kept his stone face. 
Slithering out of the shuttle, Veronica gently placed Chip down whilst non-discretely catching a feel of his ass, as he expected. Betty followed the motion, placing her bag on the ground as Chip.
"Betty, you and Elfa will head out to the guest rooms on this ship and pick one you like. Veronica, go with them and get the elf checked at their medbay. I’ll be right with you, I have to have a talk with Naterc. Afterward, Efla, you will come to that room." Chip stated pointing toward a map on a hanger wall as he made his way to the bridge. 
The zigzagging corridors of the Star Bull proved difficult to navigate for a moment, but Chip's memory soon kicked back in as he found an elevator to bring him up to the bridge. Once out of the elevator, Chip's brisk pace slowed to a confident strut, and he rolled his shoulders back to get into character. Finally, after a deep sigh, he arrived at the hallway joining the bridge and the captain's quarters. The quarters had a simple white door with a well-polished captain symbol and a line vacating a circle with a strange addition to the title. He wasn't the best at alien languages, but he knew the symbol: "Weak, kill on arrival." Chip chuckled as the door slipped open to reveal the sitting bull, his hand firmly gripping a glass of alcohol. Naterc gestured with his massive fingers to a nearby sofa, a large thing with carved hand rests and neon green lining.. 
Chip's hard eyes glared at the bull, weighing his options. This could be a trap, but he was not unarmed. Chip’s hand hovered over his hip, the relic Colt M1991 ready to fly out of its holster. If it came down to it, Chip would without a doubt get one shot in his head. But that would be a waste. Perhaps an offer of peace would work. Those bulls were renowned for being stubborn, but this one was different. 
"There is no foul play, Chip. That is your name?" Naterc said, breaking the tense silence. He uncorked another bottle and poured a drink, then raised it to Chip before downing it. With that, Chip calmed down, flashing a grin. Maybe his tough-guy act would work after all. Chip strode into the room, took the gun out of his holster, and stared at Naterc while grabbing the bottle of alcohol.
"I assume you have questions, Naterc. Like, ‘why didn't I massacre your crew despite you wounding my group,’ or ‘why would I bother to integrate them?’" Chip stated, his eyes fixed like a laser at Naterc’s hazel eyes.
Naterc couldn't hold eyes with the human; its gaze was far too predacious, to the point that it shook him. 
"Well, yes. I also assume you have some too."
"A trade of questions, hmm? I get it, just let me start. Naterc, I had two reasons not to kill your crew… well, three really" Chip began as he inspected his pistol.
"One, I hate the waste of life. It’s a resource that is often easy to understate. Your crew is a well-oiled machine, trained and conditioned to serve this ship well. It'd be asinine to rip apart something I could use'' Chip started with a cool voice. He set down the bottle for a moment and removed the magazine from the pistol, balancing it upright on the table.
Naterc tilted his head as he looked at the human with curiosity and fear. His handling of the weapon especially made Naterc worried.
"So we are a resource to you, then?" Naterc questioned as he shifted in his chair, glancing between the magazine and the bottle on the table. 
"All things are resources, but I have another reason too. You lot are the perfect smokescreen against the Galactic Authorities and the Terran Alliance" Chip stated bluntly. He then racked the pistol's slide and pocketed the bullet before grabbing a glass and holding it toward Naterc.
Naterc paused before pouring a drink into Chip’s cup, then he continued his probing."Why would you need that then? Are you some kind criminal or fugitive or-”
"I am a Wild Hunter, Naterc, or would the proper term be buccaneer ?" Chip said as he nodded to the bull.
Naterc stopped for a second, almost dropping the bottle.' A Wild Hunter? Oh Great Beast, it was not possible! What had he let onto his ship?!' Naterc screamed in his mind.
"Y-You are a-”
"Listen Naterc: you and your crew are, as of now, are under my supervision, and by the power vested in me by the Terran federation you will continue your set course then stop at the outpost of Letluck 7" Chip stated, locking Naterc’s eyes in a death glare.
"You're, you're ly... Great Beast, you aren't lying-”
" I don't waste life if it is useful. So I will give you one chance to live. And I am a thorough man, Naterc. So help me God, if I catch you or any of your crew lacking-”
In one swift motion, Chip slammed the pistol onto the magazine and flicked the slide release, chambering a round. All before Naterc could even flinch.
“I won’t hesitate.”
Naterc was afraid; after all, he knew what that machine could do, he had seen this. Back home, he had seen soldiers and guards with their weapons, always cleaning or checking it. It was their friend, and they must be ready at all times. That was always odd to him, but they were those that lived with their demons. 
“So then, what now? What will you have us do?” Naterc questioned covering his fear as he looked at Chip trying to gather any information from his expressions. 
“Nothing really, you will continue to move the station at Telois, one called Letlucky 7 . I have been tracking a signal for a time capsule, the second half of one that I have already collected.” Chip stated bluntly. 
“Uh, you believe those rumors that sentient species would launch its history and its secrets into the stars  as it nearly saw absolute annihilation but magically they were saved and escaped?” Natriec said dumbfounded.
 
“It may sound ridiculous, but it is what it is. The problem was our secrets had troubling effects on galactic politics. Often it is led to some apprising planets and races trying to have some leverage over humanity, one hive mind even tried to create socialism.  So, Wild Hunters are tasked with finding and extracting this information from that civilian by any means. If not possible minus the damage that civilization can do, by again any means. We just remove our touch and their information or at the very least ensure they know to never attempt to attack humanity colonies Sometimes they will be removed and any survivor will be dragged to the Terran alliance.  We are freelance scouts and hands-for-hire that deal with the clean-up of humanity’s greatest mistake.“ Chip stated without a pause as he looked at the shocked bull. 
“So the reports-”
“They are all true" Chip interrupted, his tone holding more gravity than before. “All the pillaging, all the forced compliance, such as the Northstar incident and the Boris slaughter all of it. it is true and a third of all of them are done by licensed wild hunters. If their sin can be proven.” Chip explained giving Natriec a knowing look.
“I know ten hunters who have done them; now you and your people are my crew if you want to live. I also know you're an unwanted son. Your father is a merchant or rich bastard, whatever. Either way, they are pushing you out to do something so they can cut you off. If you joined me, I’ll ensure that within a standard year you will be better off than they ever were.” Chip's soft and cold voice spoke with a calm and almost nursing tone.
"So what of the crew? Will they be harmed?” Natriec questioned.
"Just have them do their jobs and they will be fine. Hell, they will be richer faster than your normal rate" Chip cooed.
Natriec stared into his reflection in the glass in front of him, thinking. 
"Fine, but the safety of my crew will come first. Remember that" Natriec stated, shifting his gaze back up to meet Chip’s eyes.
"Good. Now all that is left is the visitor coming to the ship.” Naterc shot Chip a bewildered look as Chip reached for the bottle. “As you know, my ship was crippled and is now barely functional. However, the automated distress signal was still active. That could turn into a problem, as an... associate of mine may come to investigate. But don't worry, I will ensure your precious crew survives" Chip said, pouring himself a drink.
“If we just stay calm we can get through this without any trouble.” Chip spoke before he swallowed the drink. 
“Your friend," Naterc interjected, “why would he care? You are a Wild Hunter, and not to mention you seem to be the lone wolf type.”
“The one coming is a bastard above all others, but he sadly is the closest thing to a friend. He is the Wild Hunter known as Boris” Chip grimaced.
"Boris the Felt Ax ?" Natriec questioned.
"Yes, him," Chip spoke, slowly standing.
Natriec glanced at the bottle and just sighed. Clearly, his luck was just that bad.
"I will ask you to send me Elfa and give your crew this one order: keep to business as usual, and prepare to be boarded." Chip spoke over his shoulder as he walked out of the room in a cold action.
"Chip," Naterc called after. “Why Elfa? what has he done?" Natriec questioned moving to the cabinet reaching for another bottle of alcohol. 
“Third, I want to keep Elfa as close as possible while Boris is here. His mother trained me, after all. Whatever happens to him, she’ll do to me.”Chip quipped.