u/Bloodystupidjohnson3

“Well Commander, we are all set for my XO. I’m going to have them do an informal tour of all of the colony before allowing them access to any critical systems. That should help us determine if they are a spy.”

“Informal?”

“Yes. They will have no authority, they will have a marine escort, and not write up any reports or recommendations. All of their communications will be tracked and read.”

“You really don’t trust this, do you?”

“Nope. Not at all. But we will see. Maybe we get lucky with an overly eager junior officer.”

“Oscar, what is your plan if they are a spy?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. We have options. We could attempt to turn them. We could feed them bad intel. We could relegate them to duty far away from important things. I could write them up for multiple issues until I have enough to dismiss them. My initial plan is to watch them closely. If they are a spy, they might expect some reluctance, so I need to be subtle. I also need to track their contacts around the colony.”

“Sounds like a great deal of work. You need anything?”

“Actually yes. I’ve heard a rumor that we have at least one being in the colony who is partially psychic. Is this true?”

“Well, we try to keep it quiet, but yes. It’s not a secret, but it can unnerve some. The true secret is how sensitive they are.”

“How sensitive are we talking?”

“Ensign Danyak is the most sensitive in the colony. She can’t quite read your thoughts, but she can determine motivation, emotional responses, a stray thought here and there. We downplay it, saying that she can just detect surface emotion.”

“Would you mind loaning her to me for a bit? Until we have a full understanding of the XO?”

“Yes Oscar, I can do that. We can say that she is cross-training with Terrans to help with conflicts.”

“Hell, I might just hire her for real!”

“I’m not sure about that. You need to meet her and spend some time around her first. She is…hard to be around.”

“Harder than drunk Aussies creating new volcanos?”

“In a way, yes. Look. It’s easier if you just meet her.”

“Sounds good. Please send her to my office. Should I brief her or will you?”

“I’ll leave the details to you. I’ll tell her that it is a special, classified mission, and I’ll explain the cover story.”

“Thank you sir.”

A few hours later, Oscar is in his office when there is a knock at the door.

“Enter,” said Oscar.

The first thing that went through Oscar’s mind was, Huh. Followed by, Well this is new.

“Hello Chief. I’m Ensign Danyak. Yes, I’m a bit different.”

“Call me Oscar. Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you Oscar. I find it useful to get some things out of the way. Yes, I’m an amphibian. Yes, I have six eyes. Yes, I can see in infrared and ultraviolet. Yes, my frills do whatever the hell they want. No, my frills are not a good indication of my mood or thinking. Yes, most species think I smell odd. Yes, I sleep in a tank of water. No, you may not touch my skin.”

“I see. Well, I’m guessing that you already know that I really don’t give a fuck about any of that. I need to know if I can trust you.”

“Hmmmm. I can tell that trust is not something you give without reason. Actually, you are fairly hard to read. I assume training?”

“Some training, but lots of experience. I have a critical mission for you. If I think I can trust you, then you will become a great asset to the colony. If I don’t trust you, then you can either carry on with the cover story for a bit or you can return to your regular duties.”

“Honestly, I rather not go back to my previous duties.”

“Why?”

“The staff are jerks. They are friendly when I’m around, but nasty about me when I leave. They leave containers of bugs around my station. They make a big deal about cleaning where I’ve sat. In general, they are unpleasant.”

“And you think Terrans are better?”

“No. I don’t think you would allow it.”

“Good answer.”

“What do you know of the mission?”

“You need my help evaluating a new Terran.”

“Correct. They are sending me an XO, but I think they are sending a spy.”

“Would this be related to the strange hybrids from a few months ago?”

“More than likely. What do you know about the hybrids?”

“Not much. Some sort of super-Terran hybrid attempted to mess up the colony. When cornered, it got messy. There are rumors about more of them, but I’m pretty sure what I heard is crap. The speaker was clearly lying.”

“Out of curiosity, would you be able to tell if a being was a hybrid?”

“Possibly. If I was very familiar with one of the base species, I would know something was different.”

“Interesting. Look. I need to trust you. You want this job. How do we both get what we want?”

“Test me.”

“I’m sorry Ensign?”

“Design a test for me.”

“Fair enough. I’ll design a test. Right now please see the orderly about moving your quarters. Tell him that you are to be in the 3rd officers quarters. We don’t have a 3rd officer, so it is empty. I assume that you will want to modify the room to suit you. Do as you wish. After making those arrangements, I want you to interview six marines at random. Ask about personal conflicts with other beings. You know, follow the cover story.”

“Yes Oscar. And you can tell Captain Sue that she doesn’t need to stand guard in the hallway.”

“Stand guard? She is my next appointment. Why do you think…no wait. That is what Sue is feeling. I’m afraid Sue is always on guard.”

“Ah. I need to hone my Terran skills.”

“Hence the interviews.”

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’
10 Human Fred Stops for Coffee
11 Human Fred Deploys Stabby and Knifey
12 Human Fred Attempts Friendly Advice
13 Human Fred Priorities 
14 Human Fred Schools Morons
15 Human Fred Gets Annoyed

“Fred, just how bad is this?”

“Not 100% sure. But it’s bad. Someone infiltrated the command center and planted an illegal device. That is bad. The IFF receivers were tampered with. That is also bad. The processing core doesn’t match. That is even more bad. So on a scale of 1-100, we are sitting around 87.”

“What do we do?”

“Well, security is going to check some logs. I’m going to check some logs. You are going to help me check logs. After we compare logs, we will have an understanding of at least part of this. Then we examine this illegal device.”

“Got it. How can I help?”

“Take this cable and plug it into the IFF database.”

Greezek looked at the cable. It was very different from the others. 

“I’m not sure I saw a plug like this.”

“You didn’t. You will need to remove a plate next to the ID plate. Then you will see the plug. This connects to a hidden partition within the database.”

“On it.” Greezek picked up some tools and the cable and disappeared under the table. She was getting better at swearing. 

A hatch whirred open, and the Captain entered. “Who is Fred?”

“I’m Fred, Captain. My assistant Greezek is currently under the table checking the IFF database.”

“Fine. What is going on?”

“Sir, external IFF sensors 3 and 4 show signs of tampering. Sensor 4 exploded when handled. Two deaths. The IFF database has been corrupted, and I found an illegal device connected to the database. Someone had to physically crawl under that table to install it. I’m currently pulling logs and determining how corrupted that database really is.”

“How long have we been partially blind?”

“Unclear at the moment. I’m assuming at least 30 rotations.”

“How did you find this?”

“The Watch Officer reported issues with the sensors. Greezek ran a typical repair, but one error wouldn’t clear. We came up to take a closer look.”

“Right. Keep me posted.”

Greezek crawled back out. “Connected, Fred.”

“Good. Now let’s see what has been going on.”

They stood reading logs and reports for a few minutes. The Captain was yelling at the Ensign. The Chief was comparing their logs. It wasn’t chaos, but it was very busy. 

“Huh. You see this Greezek?”

“Yes. A power fluctuation.”

“I’d bet that was when this box was connected. Yep. Just a few hours later the first changes to the database. Hmmmm. This is a good one. Only one change at a time. At random intervals. Hard to catch unless you are looking for it.”

“Fred, this seems like a great deal of trouble for a simple transfer station. Sure, there are the mines, but it isn’t like we are a high-priority target.”

“Well, that all depends on the goal. We are a logistics hub. At the moment we mainly work with ore and supplies to some small outposts, but we could handle more than that.”

“So we aren’t used to 100% capacity. I’m still not following you.”

“Suppose one of those outposts was attacked or invaded. Where would the military start sending supplies?”

“Oh. Here.”

“Right. Someone wants to hinder our operations before they make a move. That isn’t some group of moron pirates.”

“So the pirates?”

“Either they got lucky, or they found out about the IFF issue. Possibly bought the information. Ah! Got it! Look. The IFF databases sent an error code reporting mismatched data. Here is the time and date stamp. Chief! I’ve got something!”

The Chief and Captain hurried over. 

“Look,” said Fred. “Here is when the device was connected. It started slowly changing IFF IDs. Then here the database sent an error. However, the error was cleared and ignored.”

“Who cleared and ignored the error?” asked the Captain. 

“I don’t know, but Chief has the duty logs. Chief?”

“Let me check…here we go. Only three on duty at the time. Entry logs show four in the compartment.”

“Right. Round then up. Start asking pointed questions.”

“Yes Sir. However, I know that one of these beings is no longer on the station.”

“Damn. When did they leave?”

“About 11 rotations ago. Transferred to Outpost 52-G.”

“Wait,” said Fred. “Isn’t that one of outer outposts we supply?”

“It is,” said Chief. “Why?”

“Because I’d bet that Outpost 52-G is going to be attacked”

The Captain looked at Fred. Then at Chief.

“Send them a warning. Report to High Command that we have been sabotaged and tell them we expect an attack.”

“Yes sir!” Chief ran to another terminal. 

“Fred, why do you think there is an attack coming?”

“We would supply any military units. Weaken us and we can’t repel an attack.”

“And you figured that out?”

“I served on a Terran assault craft before this station. You learn a great deal if you listen.”

“I’ll bet you do. What about this illegal device?”

“We haven’t started our examination. We are still checking the IFF database. There is likely a pattern to the changed IDs. That could be useful.”

“What are the odds of other forms of sabotage on my station?”

“Well sir, I’d assume pretty high. Things like airlocks, internal scanners, lighting, possibly alarm systems. Things that would make boarding easier.”

“Good work Fred. Let me know if you find a pattern or anything else interesting.”

Greezek was gently tapping the screen. “Fred. Look at this.”

“The entry logs? Yeah, what about the….”

“Right.”

“What is he doing in the command center?”

“That is rather my point, Fred.”

“Right. Right. Hey Chief!”

“Fred?”

“You are going to look very carefully at this one.” Fred pointed at the screen.

“He was here when the error was cleared?”

“Yes. And when the illegal device was installed.”

“Well fuck.”

Roomliz’s name was highlighted. 

“Morning sir. All Terrans accounted for. Not great: 37 dead, 217 still in medical.”

“Details on the new atoll?”

“Still too early to say. I’ve had to post guards to keep the scientists from getting hurt. They get all excited about some formation or another and ignore the geysers of superheater acid.”

“Do your best. If some die, we will write it up as self inflicted”

“Agreed. In other news, the mining group is begging to test their drillhead canon. They think it could help them find more water and other resources. I have rejected the requests until we have a better understanding of what else we might hit.”

“I’ll call High Command for a geology team to run more detailed scans. The team we have is enough for basic stuff, but this goes well beyond basic.”

“Thank you. Sparky is finally ready to host a party. I’ve overruled the committee and insisted that the first party be a formal affair recognizing the achievements of the Sparky team. I have you down for a speech and some awards.”

“Do I need to write a speech? ‘We are here to recognize the reckless use of equipment beyond their design specifications to do hereto assumed impossible things. We are grateful that so few died in this endeavor.’ Something like that?”

“I recommend that you pretty that up a bit. I’ll send over a draft.”

“Oscar, is giving them awards a good idea?”

“Oh HELL no. It’s a terrible idea! But it’s customary. They will expect it. Sadly, it encourages them to do other dumb shit. Which brings me to an odd situation.”

“Odd? Define odd.”

“A group of Terrans and some non-Terrans have struck out to establish a new outpost. This was done without orders or permission. However, under Sol Command, there is a rarely used law that allows for independent exploration assuming that the group has, ‘A reasonable expectation of finding valuable resources.’ The Council has attempted to purge that law at least 326 times, but it is too popular.”

“Oscar, that isn’t a loophole. That is a space-transit lane! I could look at the random hill, say ‘That grass looks better than ours,’ and head out!”

“Yep. So I’m keeping an eye on them. The odd part is the mix of species. I’d expect species that are similar to Terrans, but there are few that just don’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, mammalian, avian, and some herpatials  make sense. But there are at least 7 aquatics, and 5-6 plantforms. It’s crazy.”

“Where are they headed?”

“Not sure. They packed up and headed north from our outermost post. I think they are angling for the lake region past the mountain range, but that is a long, tough trail. They are using ground transport only.”

“Strange. What do we know about them?”

“Sadly, not much. The best we got was from a Terran laborer. He claims that the leader of the group ‘had a vision,’ and that god told him to head out.”

“Which god?”

“Didn’t say. Historically, these things end badly.”

“Yes. I recall an incident.”

“I assume you mean the religious zealots who attempted to colonize an insect planet.”

“Yes. That was bad.”

“On the bright side, we did learn a great deal about the insects.”

“Right. By the way, I sent your list for an XO along. They said that they are looking into options.”

“Well fuck.”

“What? Why?”

“That means they don’t want to send someone from the list. I’m going to guess that some Council member has a family member who wants to do it. Great.”

“Why would they ignore your list?”

“Political favors. The Council is full of back-room deals and random BS.”

“So. We are getting you an XO who you may not know or like.”

“They are a spy. We need to lock down all sorts of data NOW. I’m talking purge systems, burn physical copies, the works. They want more on the hybrid. Fuck. I need to figure out how to better hide the agent’s ship.”

“On Sparky?”

“Why on Sparky?”

“Sensors have a hard time scanning the sub-surface. Easy to hide a ship.”

“I’m corrupting you, Commander. I’ll tell the agent.”

A: So, you attach a knife to your rifle?

H: A bayonet, yes.

A: Why? You have a pulse rifle. Why is a bayonet useful?

H: Close quarters fighting, intimidation, low ammo, rifle issues, or surprise attacks.

A: That makes no sense. Your rifle is the best in the quadrant. They don’t break. Just keep an eye on your power pack.

H: All weapons break. Period. A bayonet only breaks when you break it off in an enemy.

A: Yeah, you are crazy.

H: We will see.

Hours later, after an assault on a bunker.

A is wounded, on a stretcher.

H: So. My bayonet. Saved your ass.

A: But we were fully armed! State-of-the-art weapons! How could they fail?!

H: All energy weapons fail. You didn’t listen.

A: But you didn’t hesitate! You just attacked! You just lunged forward and fought!

H: And? You fight to win.

A: But a knife! Sharpened metal!

H: It never runs out of ammo, needs very little maintenance, and works even when broken. You are welcome.

A: But…we were told it was going to be easy!

H: Yeah. They didn’t know reality.

A: You saved us all!

H: Possibly. But now we all fix bayonets.

1—Now You Play My Game
2—Hood’s Game
3—The Corridor
4—Fools Run

[Note: I had intended Fools Run to be the ending, but people wanted more. Here you go.]

Captain Bezzic stared at the card. The doll was still. He didn’t want to turn away. The doll seemed…menacing. 

He felt a rush of cold air, suggesting the far hatch had opened. He didn’t dare turn to look. 

The doll tilted its head to one side, as if in slow motion. Its face changed into a frown. 

Captain Bezzic felt a gentle tugging on his leg. Startled, he jumped back, but his legs became tangled. He flailed with his good arm for support, but he over-balanced and fell heavily on his back. Just before he cracked his head on the deck, he felt a sharp snap as his leg broke, bent backwards under his other leg. 

He felt sharp waves of pain in his leg. His vision was full of colors and flashes, all swirling around. He felt as if he was falling through flashing, swirls of light. 

He was on the deck. His leg was throbbing with shape bolts of pain surging up his leg. With his good arm and leg, he pushed and pulled himself up against a partition in one of the stations. When his eye could focus, he saw a pool of blood, a trail of blood, a new pool forming, and small boot tracks through the blood. 

Right. My leg is snapped. I can see all three bones protruding through my flightsuit. The pool is from me not moving, the trail is me moving, and now I’m making a new pool. I need to stop the bleeding. Wait. Where are all of the dolls?

He scanned the compartment, grunting as more of his charred flesh ripped open. No dolls. 

Boot tracks. Small boot tracks. He attempted to focus on the console where the big doll with the card had been. Nothing. He twisted, biting down a scream, to look back towards the first hatch. Nothing. 

He bent forward to look at the far hatchway. It was open. If he could stop the bleeding, he could crawl out. He was only two corridors from the engine area. If he was careful, he could make it. 

A small hand gripped his right ear. 

Captain Bezzic tried to jerk away, but the grip was firm. A small hand raised a neat, clean card into his view. 

“You have lost. You are injured. We will now show you the mercy that you showed our children.”

He felt something like a frozen spike drop through him. He had shown no mercy. He had simply fired. 

A new card swam into his faded vision. 

“This trap brought to you by the Dolls for Babies chapter of the Crafts by Grannies association. Thank you for your participation.”

The card lowered. The gripe released. He looked around. The big doll was by his broken leg. It’s head turned this way and that, examining. One doll hand reached out and gripped one of the protruding bones. 

Captain Bezzic stifled a scream as the doll snapped off part of the bone. Using the bone, the doll began to write on the deck, using his blood as ink. 

“No mercy.”

The doll dropped the bone, turned back to Captain Brezzic, and smiled. It produced a small, fine toothed saw, like a model maker would use. With care, it turned to the shattered leg and began to amputate. 

Through waves of pain, Captain Bezzic saw another doll, this one dressed in his uniform, approach from his right. It had a larger card, which it held up. He could just make out a diagram of his species. A dissection diagram. With each organ removed and arranged in neat order. His name was across the top of the card. Each of his injuries were marked. 

He felt a sharp sting on his arm. His brain burst into life. Everything was sharp and clear. But he couldn’t move. 

The second doll smiled and held up a new card. 

“The record is 73 minutes. Can you beat the record?”

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’
10 Human Fred Stops for Coffee
11 Human Fred Deploys Stabby and Knifey
12 Human Fred Attempts Friendly Advice
13 Human Fred Priorities 
14 Human Fred Schools Morons

“So now what?”

“Now, Greezek, we check everything else.” He turned the panel and adjusted the tool chest. 

Greezek couldn’t help but notice that now the screen was hidden from view. 

Fred lowered his voice, “You see, not only am I certified to use this panel, I’m certified to rebuild and maintain them. That means I found a way to hide information. Normally this connects directly to the maintenance mainframe, which is secure and encrypted. It cannot be changed. However, I modified my panel to only connect when I tell it, and it only sends what I tell it. Very useful when I find bullshit.”

In his normal voice, “Now, take this cable and plug it into the sensor converter.”

Greezek crawled under the table. There was no way to use a data pad under here. She found the port. “All set.”

“Good. Now come here and look at this.”

She dusted off her flightsuit and looked at the screen. It was the error logs.

“They have been getting the same error for weeks. You can see where I did the reset. But this error comes and goes.”

“Why does it clear on its own?”

“Internal cycling. The sensors cycle on a regular basis. This indicates an intermittent error. Which I’m willing to bet is the result of a poor connection.”

“Where?”

“At the receiver. They didn’t do a good job tampering with it.”

“Tampering? It’s on the hull.”

“Yep. That means we aren’t just the target of pirates. This is a trick used by navies to sneak up on a station.”

“How do you know this?”

“I worked on a Terran assault vessel and learned some tricks. You send a small group of infiltrators to locate the sensor receivers, sneak out, remove a few, replace them with modified receivers, and leave. It creates a blind spot.”

“Who would want to attack this station?”

“No idea. Ah. The converter is working correctly. All tests pass. The connectivity tests with the receiver ports are good. That points to a receiver issue. Now unplug from that converter and plug it into the database converter.”

As Greezek was muttering and grunting under the table, the Watch Officer walked over.

“Fred, sensors 1 and 2 are clean, properly installed, and in good shape. However, 3 and 4 show signs of tampering. I’m sending you the images. Sensor 4 is dangling out of its housing just a bit. I told the team to remove it and bring it inside.”

“WHAT?!? NO! Tell them to stop! NOW!”

“But why?”

A tech chimes in, “Sir! We lost team 4! The recovery team reports a small explosion!”

“That is why! For fucks sake, don’t they teach you to NOT mess with shit that looks weird! It was a booby trap!”

The Watch Officer stood confused.

Fred yelled at the tech, “Have recovery pull in team 4! Send team 3 to image the damage! Tell them to NOT touch anything! Notify security.”

The Watch Officer focused, “What do you think you are doing?!? I’m in charge!”

“Yep. That went well, didn’t it?”

“How was I to know…”

“Listen you stupid fuck, I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve had that nice uniform. You are an Ensign! One step about a cadet! If you have any brains at all, you will listen to me. Greezek! How is that connection going?”

“All done. Filthy under here.”

“Yeah, that is typical. Ensign, how long have you been ignoring this error?”

“We don’t ignore errors!”

“I have 37 standard rotations of logs that say otherwise.”

The other techs were frantically carrying out Fred’s instructions. The Ensign was silent. 

“Right,” said Fred. “Now that we have that sorted, I believe you were going to explain why you ignored that error?”

“We didn’t know what it meant, and it cleared on its own. We didn’t think it was a big deal.”

A security team rushed in. “Who is Fred?!”

“I’m Fred. This is the Ensign Watch Officer. This is Greezek, my assistant.”

“They reported an explosion?”

“Yes. IFF receivers 3 and 4 have been tampered with. The Ensign instructed team 4 to remove the damaged receiver. Said receiver was booby trapped. Team 4 is dead. Team 3 is documenting the damage.”

“Tampered with? How?”

“It’s a guess, but I’d say to create a blind spot in the IFF.”

The security Chief turned to the control staff. “I am assuming command. Put the IFF into standby. All vessels will confirm ID manually. Fred, what are you doing here?”

“Trouble shooting an intermittent error code in the IFF system.”

“Right. Are you done?”

“No Chief. I’m still checking a few systems. The tampering might have corrupted other things.”

“Right. Keep at it. Ensign, start your report. I’ll report to the Captain.”

Fred turned back to his panel. “Right. Database converter checks out. Now for the more complicated bit. Greezek, unplug from the converter. I want to show you this next bit.”

“I’m going to need a shower after all of this.”

“Also typical. Now, open the small door on the sensor array control panel. The one on the far left. Right. What do you see?”

“Three dataports.”

“What color are they?”

“From top to bottom, white, black, and checkered.”

“What do those color mean?”

“I’d guess the level of security.”

“Good! Now use a screwdriver to pop out the cover.”

“The cover? Oh. I see an indent.”

The cover popped out, revealing a fourth dataport.

“This one is stripped.”

“Right. Plug this into the stripped dataport. This allows us to run a full scan of the IFF database and the modules internal processor.”

“What do you expect to find?”

“Ha! I hope it’s all good, but I’m being careful. That trick with the receivers isn’t a common pirate act. It’s more of a military thing.”

“Assuming the database and it’s internal processor is good, I assume that we check the main system next?”

“Correct. And I’m sure that will be interesting.”

“Fred!”

“Yes Chief?”

“I’m sending you the damage survey. The receiver is gone, but there is a strange plug still connected and inside the receiver’s housing.”

“Right. Please send an EOD team to recover that plug. I assume that is why the receiver was dangling.”

“After EOD recovers the plug, where do you want it?”

“Treat it as possibly contaminated and boobytrapped. Run a full quarantine check and scan. If it’s clean, move it to ordinance assembly bay 1. I’ll check it after I’m done here.”

Fred turned back to the panel. “Greezek, what do you see?”

Greezek examined the rows of data. “Well, the tests are showing everything is good, but I’m not sure. Some of data is repeated.”

“Very good! Yes, some of the signatures are repeated with the same vessel. I’m willing to bet that the plug sent corrupted information. This database needs to be replaced. Get under the table and unplug EVERYTHING from that database.”

After a few minutes of muttering, grunts, and possible swearing, “Hey Fred?”

“Yes?”

“How many cables should be plugged into this database module?”

“Three. Power, converter, mainframe. Why?”

“There is a fourth.”

“Don’t touch it! Crawl out. Ill examine it.”

Ten minutes of swearing later, Fred backed out of the service space. He was holding a great box with two cables. 

“Chief! Initiate Security Protocol 5! We need a forensics team. No one can leave this compartment! We need logs for everyone who has been in this compartment for the last 45 rotations! Someone has installed an illegal device to the IFF database module!”

The Chief slammed a fist onto a button. Alarms sounded. The hatches slammed shut. Automated announcements started. 

“Well Greezek, I guess you get to learn more than you expected. We have a saboteur on the station. Or have had one.”

1—Now You Play My Game
2—Hood’s Game
3—The Corridor

Captain Bezzic blinked. He was sprawled on his back. The compartment was dim with smoke and broken lights. He felt weak. Tired. 

His mind was sluggish. He couldn’t quite focus. He recalled the doll. He jerked up, shaking. He scanned the compartment, eyes wide. He was still alone. Alone with a doll. 

There were options. Multiple hatchways. Debris to examine. Or he could take a rest. Just for a few minutes. Rest and regain focus. 

What would the Terrans have next? If he was trapping his ship, what would he do? A slow atmosphere leak? Radiation? Turrets? 

No. He had said that the civilians designed it. Why did that worry him? Civilians. Designing traps. Should be simple. Easy to avoid or thwart. But no. This seemed…harder. There was menace. 

He rolled onto his knees and good arm, crawled forward, away from the doll. There was a hatchway a few meters ahead. It led down into the service area for the mainframe. There were some service tunnels leading from the mainframe to the main engine room. That would work. 

As he reached the hatchway, it opened automatically. Nothing came out at him. But it shouldn’t open automatically. It should require a code. 

If only the ringing in his ears would stop. Then he could think and focus. 

He edged towards the hatchway, keeping an eye out for traps. In the smoke, he could see lines of light across the threshold. A trigger of some sort. He scrabbled around and picked up a bit of broken table. With great care, he poked the bit of wood over the threshold. 

He screamed and rolled away from the intense beam of light. His face burned. He could smell his skin burning. Clutching his face, he could feel the charred tissue. He could feel his skin split, starting to ooze blood. One eye was totally gone, burned away by that horrible light. The other was unfocused. 

He could almost see. Almost. But not enough to do anything useful. He has once boasted about being able to walk around the ship blind. Now to see if that was true. 

Three more hatchways on this wall. The intense light had stopped, but it might trigger if he went through that hatch. The hatch with the doll did not appeal. So. Three more options. 

Or was that the point? Tricky him into exploring so that he died slowly? What did he remember about fighting Terrans? They employed ambushes. Flanking attacks. They attempted to shape the battle via maneuver and long-range attack. 

He sat with his back to the wall. He couldn’t hear. He could barely see. His left arm was useless. He might be able to stand. He was severely injured. He was still bleeding. He had no food, no water, no medical supplies, and no weapon. 

He was finished. He knew it, but he wasn’t going to just stop. Doll or burning light?

He crawled back to the doll. It was a mere blur in his vision, but it was there. He pulled open the hatch controls and hit the open button. Freezing air blasted him, and he swayed out of the wind. It wasn’t sustained. Just a sharp blast. 

He looked into the corridor. He knew that it should be a line of stations for fire control. From the blurs in front of him, it seemed to be in order. 

The full lighting hurt his eye, but he could just make out, through the blinking, that all of the chairs were occupied. But nothing moved. 

He heaved over the threshold and crawled to the first station. In the chair was…another doll. He turned his head and realized that the entire corridor was lined with dolls. As if in formation. 

He turned to leave, but the hatchway was sealed. He was stuck in a corridor full of dolls. Dolls that seemed to watch him. He could swear their heads turned to follow him. 

He crawled forward, grabbed a chair, and managed to stand. He shuffled more than walked, but he moved forward, past the dolls. When he looked back, the dolls had formed up behind him. They no longer lined the corridor. They were in formation behind him. He hadn’t seen any movement, but with his eye, he wasn’t surprised.

He turned and shuffled towards the ranks of dolls. They didn’t move. He got to the first rank and peered at a doll at random. He had to squat, but when he got level with its head, his blood froze. The doll was wearing his first officer’s uniform. The next was wearing the helmsman’s uniform. The dolls were his crew. Following him. 

Captain Bezzic vomited. He hadn’t vomited in a very long time. It was unusual for his species to vomit, but the rows of dolls in the uniforms of his men…

He screamed in agony as vomiting ripped more of his charred skin on his face. Screaming ripped even more. His limited vision was a swirl of bright, garish colors of pain and frustration. 

He jerked awake. He knew that he had passed out, but had no idea how long he had been out. As he sat up, his semi-functioning eye realized that he was now surrounded by the dolls. He could just make out the hatchway out of this wretched place, but he would have to wade through dolls. He picked up a doll at random. 

It was light. It didn’t move. It was just a doll. 

He dropped the doll, forced himself onto his feet, and started to shuffle forward. He made it a meter before he felt a tiny hand grip his flightsuit. He moved faster, and more tiny hands gripped him. 

Panic flooded him as he attempted to sprint forward. More tiny hands, each dragging on him, each gripping just enough to slow his movement to a crawl. He was trying to wade through mud that held on. 

He grasped a console, terrified of what might happen if he fell. The tiny hands held firm, but nothing moved. 

He raised his right foot. There were no dolls grasping his flightsuit. He swung his right foot forward a set and lowered it. No hands. 

Shifting weight, he attempted to lift his left foot. Tiny hands gripped both legs.

He looked around, desperate for a weapon or another way to move. There was a doll on the console next to him. It was bigger than the others, maybe a meter tall. It had an envelope in its hand. 

As he stared at this new doll, it raised its hand, seeming to offer the envelope to him. He took the envelope, and pulled out a card. In clear, crisp lines, the message read:

“You have lost.”

“Well Oscar, do you think they got it out of their systems?”

“Nope.”

“They blew up five islands, destroyed an entire atoll, somehow managed to create a new atoll, and boiled an entire lagoon.”

“Yep.”

“How many injured?”

“About 500. Still looking.”

“You are rather somber. Everything alright?”

“Not really. There is throwing a party for Matilda and then there is altering the seismic nature of a planet.”

“Do we know how they managed it?”

“Sadly, yes. The other Terrans decided to help out with the party.”

“How did that lead to this?”

“The miners sent their drilling cannon.”

“Well fuck.”

“And Sparky sent some schematics for one of their drive systems.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Rebuild and recovery time?”

“No clue. We still have 300 unaccounted for.”

“How did the drive factor into this?”

“Boosted the drill cannon.”

“Yikes.”

“Yes. A super-sonic drill head. Into a magma tube. Under an island.”

“Did they really manage to eject a sound system into orbit?”

“Not into orbit, no. It burned up on re-entry.”

“Right. Oscar, are you sure you don’t want a day or two off? You are looking pretty ragged.”

“Do you want to take over for a few days?”

“What about Captain Sue?”

“The last I saw, she was on the beach cheering them on.”

“Ah. There has to be SOMEONE you could trust.”

“One or two. Neither is stationed here.”

“Look, once we get this sorted, I’m going to request that Sol Command sends you a trusted XO. You give me some names.”

“Right sir. I’ll do that.”

“Did anyone explain why the boiled the lagoon?”

“Crab boil.”

“The ones in the lagoon or did they bring some?”

“Both.”

“After this is sorted, what is the plan?”

“Commander, I haven’t gotten that far. I’m still missing too many Terrans.”

“Right. Of course. What do you need from me?”

“Your support has been excellent. I couldn’t have asked for more.”

“Glad to help. This isn’t the best time, I know, but I’ve got three different science teams begging to examine and document all of this.”

“Will this go under what not to do or under new options?”

“With science teams? Who knows. Possibly both.”

“Joy.”

“And the hybrid?”

“Still on the ship in the secure area. Samples show it’s one of the espionage versions. It’s still not well enough for questioning. This one has an implant, which we are investigating. Oh. One of the agents doesn’t think it was gestated in a body. Likely grown in an artificial system.”

“How did the agent determine that?”

“Not clear. More of a theory than fact.”

“Implant?”

“Function unclear. It’s in the abdomen. No obvious connections to any organs. The agents are being very careful examining it.”

“Good call. Do we share tissue samples?”

“Might as well. The story is that we found remains in a cellar while cleaning up the from the original attack. A mystery third hybrid. That should shake them up.”

“Why shake them up?”

“It shows them how little control they really have, and it shows how good we are.”

“Hmmmmmm. I think I get it.”

“Yep.”

“Now Oscar, go grab some food.”

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’
10 Human Fred Stops for Coffee
11 Human Fred Deploys Stabby and Knifey
12 Human Fred Attempts Friendly Advice
13 Human Fred Priorities 

“Fred, why am I here.”

“Greezek, I need an extra set of hands and someone I can trust. This might be…strange.”

They enter the station command center. 

“Who is the Watch Officer?”

“I am. Who are you?”

“Fred. This is Greezek. We are here to repair your sensor array. As we work, the sensors might need to be turned off or adjusted.”

“Ah. Yes, we are having issues. I thought she fixed it?”

“It’s still reading an error, so I’m here to do a more detailed analysis.”

“Understood.”

“Oh, please enter this into the official log. Not the temp one. The official one.”

Fred turned to the sensor control panel. Tapped a few buttons, and turned back. 

“Sir. I need you to send four teams out to visually and physically inspect the IFF receivers on the hull. I need high-res images from all possible angles.”

“Why would you need that?”

“Because I want to fix the issue.”

“You haven’t even done anything! I’m not ordering that until you have a good reason.”

Fred started typing on his diagnostic panel. “That is fine. However, I’ll need you signature refusing to conduct a visual and physical inspection. I’ll have the form in just a sec.”

“What?”

“The IFF system is mission and safety critical to the station’s operations. A certified tech made a request. You refused. Therefore, I need your signature acknowledging your refusal. You don’t have to include your reason.”

“Wait. What?”

“I assume that you are fully qualified to be the Watch Officer. That means you are responsible for the station. You are refusing to conduct a vital inspection, so I need an official record of you refusing. This is hard to understand. Ah. Here we go.” Fred picked up a data pad and walked over to the Watch Officer. “Sign here.”

“Uh. How many teams?”

“One for each IFF receiver.”

“Right. I’ll send them now.” The Watch Officer hurried over to a panel. 

“Now, Greezek, we see if I’m correct.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a pretty good idea what is wrong, but I want to check everything while I’m here. You see, there are a number of different parts to a sensor array, and we need to test all of them. You don’t stop at one. There might be multiple issues, so we check the receivers, verify the fiber, depending on the various parts there might be converters, check the main processing unit, check the IFF database, its fiber, and its converter. If that all checks out, then we look for corrupt data in the database, corrupt files in the main processor, and verify the main processor's core system.”

Fred pulled a panel off from under the sensor control desk. “But first we document the ID plate on the hardware. That tells us what the appropriate parameters for the diagnostic.”

He crawled into the space. Muffled muttering and cursing followed. Some wiggling. More cursing. The sound of fiber cables being wrestled. Muttering. Cursing. 

“Yep. Converter to both the sensors and database. Not surprised.” Fred grunted and crawled back out. “You rarely see a system with everything from the same manufacture. On a civilian station, at least. Military is a different matter.”

He opened a door in his toolbox, selected a thick cable, closed the door, and plugged the cable into the diagnostic panel. He crawled back under the desk, muttered a bit and emerged. 

“Now we start writing up our report while the panel pulls the logs.”

“Which logs, Fred?”

“All of them. I’m fairly certain that they have ignored this warning for a long time.”

“Why?”

Fred dropped his voice to a whisper. “A Level 1 is often ignored as a nuisance. It often clears on its own. However, I know that this Level 1 is far more serious. It could mean a much larger problem.”

“Like a pirate attack?”

“Correct.” Fred typed away, recording time, date, names, reported issue, actions taken. He uploaded images of the ID plates from the converters, the IFF Database, and the Main Processing Unit. He added a few notes, but left out the discussion with the Watch Officer. He then pulled out a physical notebook and wrote out a list. 

“Fred. Why are you using a physical notebook? You have a panel and a data pad.”

“Do you want to drag this panel off of my toolbox and under that table? Or try to use a data pad under there?”

“Greezek looked at the access space under the deck. “Not really.”

“Also, a physical notebook can be used for things you don’t need recorded. Calculations. Questions. Instructions to others.”

“Right. Little stuff.”

“Or really BIG stuff that you don’t want to advertise. Ah, here are the logs! The first thing you do is to verify…”

Fred froze. He stopped breathing. After a few moments, he turned to Greezek, and leaned close to her face. 

“You have two options. First, you can fake a call to leave and walk away. Second, you can swear upon the pain of death that will not breathe a word of what is about to happen to anyone and stay. Choose.”

Greezek looked into his face. It wasn’t angry or violent, but her species was pretty good at reading Terran body language. Fred was ice-cold serious. She was sure that he would kill her with his bare hands if she disobeyed. 

In a low voice, “Fred, I swear upon the pain of death that I will not breathe a word of what is about to happen.”

“The only exceptions are if I’m dead or severely incapacitated, of if I give you permission.”

“Yes Fred.”

“Now. Keep your face and body calm and neutral.” He turned back to the panel. “Huh. That is odd. Greezek, what do you notice?” He waved a hand and a few lines.”

Greezek leaned in and examined the screen. “There is a lot here. I’m not sure.”

Fred pointed at an image then at a few lines.

Greezek saw it. She frowned. “Yes Fred, that is odd.” She straightened up. “What do we check next.”

Fred was impressed with her performance. She had seen what made his blood freeze, but to anyone watching, she was just noticing an odd log entry and eager to learn. 

Fred turned back to the panel and started moving files around and closing windows. He knew what was causing the error, but this wasn’t expected. 

The model and serial number on the ID plate didn’t match the BIOS of the Main Processing Unit. 

“Commander, we have a problem.”

Oscar barged into the Commander’s quarters. It was either very late or very early.

“Oscar? What now?”

Oscar held a finger to his lips, pulled a grey box from a pocket, placed it on the side table, and flipped a switch.

“Jamming device. Audio and video. We are free to talk.”

By this point the Commander was sitting up in his bed, yawning, and wiping his face.

“I hybrid news?”

“Yes sir. We accidentally captured one.”

Silence.

“Start from a logical point, and I’ll chime in when I figure what is going on.”

“Right sir. We have a trio of agents on a particular planet—no need for names—and they had been conducting surveillance on a suspect company. Two of the agents were strolling by a local park when a Terran was struck by a swerving light vehicle. The driver panicked seeing that they had hit a Terran in front of two other Terrans and sped off. An agent managed to video the escape. The video was sent anonymously to the local authorities. However, the Terran was injured, so the agents ran over to help. Then they saw the blood. You will recall that a hybrids blood is visibly different.”

“Yes Oscar, I do. It ruined a pair of my boots when I stepped in that puddle.”

“Right. Did I ever replace those?”

“You did. And you were correct; Terran boot ARE much better.”

“Glad to hear it. So the agents realized they had a HUGE issue. If they left the hybrid on the sidewalk, locals would find him and all hells would rain down. Instead, they picked him up, making a bit of a show about sorry they were late to meet him, and “let’s get you home,” sort of things. They managed to scuff up the soil to hide the blood on the ground, and carefully took him to a secure location.”

“Are you saying they have a hybrid captive on another planet?”

“Oh I wish. No. They secured the hybrid, sanitized their safe house and observation site, transported the hybrid to a secure ship, and they are on their way here.”

The Commander didn’t scream. He didn’t explode. He slowly lowered his head into his hands. “Oscar, they are bringing a captive hybrid here? May I ask why?”

“They had three options. Let him go, kill him and hide the body, or bring him here. It sounds like he is in bad shape, so letting him go would have only delay the hell fire of a different planet suddenly having a hybrid. Hiding bodies is as easy as you would think, so that was risky. The least risk was transport.”

“They could alter course a bit and toss it out of the airlock close to a star.”

“Yes, that is an option. However, Captain Sue gave them orders to report back to the Terran bunker. Via the covert route.”

“Tell me, am I in my rights to have her shot?”

“You would need to consult legal on the finer points, but that order would result in…uproar. From her marines. Which would spread to the other Terrans. Including the Aussies. And me.”

“Right. Right. Still not fully up to speed on this. What is the plan?”

“Land the ship and keep the hybrid onboard. That allows us to limit access and knowledge. We can run tests and interrogate, whatever we want.”

“Then?”

“Then we have a debate. A delicate debate. Do we turn him over to High Command? Sol Command? Toss him in the volcano? Into a star? There are options.”

“Oscar, I sure as hell don’t want to turn one of those over to High Command. Especially alive. How would we explain catching him?”

“And by the Almighty Noodley One in the Sky I don’t want to give him of his corpse to Sol Command.”

“Noodley One in the Sky? What the hell Oscar?”

“Ancient Terran religion. Started as a parody. Became oddly popular. They worshipped The Flying Spaghetti Monster.”

“Oscar, to use a Terran term, bullshit.”

“No sir, I have it right here.”

Oscar handed the Commander a data pad.

“And you had this handy?”

“I figured that you would eventually not believe me about something, so I’ve been prepared with sources for weeks.”

“You do know how to plan. So. Volcano it is.”

“After everything else.”

“Do we share what we get?”

“Well sir, I’d say that depends on what we get. If it just some more tissue samples, possibly. We could figure out a possible story for that. If we get actual information…that would be tricky.”

“Agreed. When does the ship arrive?”

“Three rotations.”

“When did you tell the Aussies about Matilda?”

“I’ll tell them in a few hours. Let them get most of the party out while there is light. Easier to keep an eye on them.”

“Right. Now I’m going to attempt another hour of sleep. Check in with me later about the Aussies.”

Oscar picked up the box, flipped the switch, and left the room, being careful to close the door gently.

Captain Bezzic began to hear sounds. They sounded distant or muffled. What had happened? We attacked the Terran ship…then…ugh.

The sounds didn’t get louder, but became more distinct. He could hear the throb of engines, so he was still on a ship.

With a grunt, he sat up. His world spun across every axis, even that sneaky one that no one could ever find and plot.

He finally opened his eyes. He was in the secondary control room of his ship. The lights were still rigged for combat. But he was alone.

He managed to pull himself into one of the comms chairs. As he went to check the system, there was a voice. Calm. Polite. Even.

“Hello. We have never met. I’m Captain Caulkin of the Terran ship Hood. You were attacking the Terran ship Olympia, a cruise ship. You attacked a non-military vessel without warning or provocation. We take a rather dim view to this. However, instead of ambushing you, we decided that you can earn your freedom by playing a game.”

“A game?” Bezzic’s brain was slow, like being underwater.

“Yes. A game. The rules are simple. If you can get to the port engine room escape hatch, you can live. I’m saddened to report that the rest of your crew were not given this option. They are currently in our bio-recycling tanks.”

“This is a trick.”

“Not a trick, you should know that your ship has been rigged with an astonishing number of evil traps. The passengers on the Olympia were very upset. I allowed them to devise most of the traps, and I’m honestly terrified of what they created.”

“So you rigged my ship with traps, and to live I must evade enough of them to get to the port engine escape hatch?”

“That is correct. Oh. There is no time limit, but we did remove all food, destroyed any capability of making food, and dumped all drinking water into our tanks. We appreciate the impromptu resupply.”

“Why would you do this? It…it is…cruel.”

“You killed three Terran children in your attack. So if you want to kill our children, then you can play a game to live.”

“And you swear that if I make it that I will live?”

“Live? Yes. I swear it.”

“Will I be free to return to my world?”

“That really depends on how well you do. We have opened up betting on your success. And in the path you take. And on any clever tricks you try. The better your performance, the greater the chance you won’t rot in prison.”

“You are betting on me?!?”

“Well, it is a game. Why not have some fun watching you?”

“What I just sit here?”

“Then we watch you slowly die. That, by the way, has some pretty good odds going. As soon as you move from that chair, we close the book and watch you.”

“I demand to contact my command! As a prisoner of war, I have the right to speak to a representative of my command!”

“Ah. I thought that might come up. There are two points against you. First, you have been reported KIA, remains not recovered. Second, your current situation is under civil authority, not military. You are not classed as a prisoner of war. You are classed as an ‘unidentified pirate,’ which changes the rules.”

“This is illegal!”

“I’m not a lawyer, so you could be correct.”

“You are a military officer! I am a military officer! I DEMAND to speak to my command!”

“I don’t think you understand just how utterly fucked you really are. Your command thinks that you are dead. Civil authorities have taken your ship. Your command states that the ship was not authorized to attack. They agree that the attack was an act of piracy. To be fair, I think they would prefer to forget you ever existed.”

“But they gave me the order to fire!”

“Unless you can prove that, you are a pirate.”

“It will be in the comm logs!”

“What logs? When we boarded, the logs were not just wiped, but physically destroyed. Our techs couldn’t find anything in the comms system. It was totally fried.”

“You did that!”

“Can you prove it? Look, you are wasting valuable energy on this. You are stuck. You have no rights. You are in a ship designed to kill you in shockingly creative ways. You have limited energy, no medical support, no food, and no water. We are going to make some popcorn and see how far you get. This is Hood Actual, Out.”

The comms went dead. Not just dead, but there was some crackling and wisps of blue smoke wafted off of the panel. They fried it remotely.

So. I’m on a ship full of traps designed by pissed off Terrans. I have no supplies, no tools, and no weapons. Well I’m not going to play their stupid game. I’ll just blow an airlock and be done with it.

The airlock was welded shut. There was a small card next to the controls, “It isn’t going to be that easy.”

After Action Report: Failed attack on Terran colony ‘Navajo’

Intel reported that the colony had limited defensive capabilities, a sparse population, and no standing military. While strictly correct, a few very specific details were omitted.

The initial landing was unopposed. Our troops rapidly reached their primary objectives. Initial comms chatter indicated that our officers assumed the Terrans had run in fear.

At assembly before star-rise, officers were confused by the number of casualties, mostly of troops who had been resting, but also of the disappearance of multiple sentries. No one heard any sounds or saw any movement.

Shortly after star-rise a number of troops suddenly dropped dead. Closer inspection revealed long, thin, wood projectiles had penetrated deep into their bodies, hitting critical organs with precision.

The officers gathered in a structure to discuss the odd situation. Comms chatter indicated a great deal of confusion.

A pattern emerged. Any troops leaving the assembly area almost never returned. No sounds of fighting were ever heard. Random troops in the assembly area would suddenly drop dead from the silent wooden projectiles.

By star-rise on the second rotation, 55% of the troops were dead. Comms systems started to fail. One officer suspected sabotage, but this could not be determined.

The little comms chatter recovered indicated growing terror and confusion. There were multiple reports of fratricide.

And still troops would be killed by silent wooden projectiles.

The last transmission indicated that the remaining troops were abandoning the colony and returning to the ship.

A search and rescue ship found the remains of the assault ship drifting in a large debris cloud on the edge of the system. Readings indicate the fusion core detonated.

This Terran colony has been marked Extremely Hostile, and the system listed as forbidden.

The only reasonable explanation is that the Terrans at Navajo have some sort of stealth ability not previously encountered. There is no explanation for the reports of silent wooden projectiles.

End report.

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’
10 Human Fred Stops for Coffee
11 Human Fred Deploys Stabby and Knifey

“So, Roomliz, what did you learn?”

“That I can’t hide on the station.”

“And?”

“That I shouldn’t hide from problems.”

“Right. Look. We all make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them. Now, you managed to piss me off and piss off Greezek. At the same time. But that isn’t the end of the universe.”

“Sorry Fred. It got so complicated, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I understand. In the future, stop and talk with those involved. When things get complicated, talk it through with someone who knows at least part of what it going on.”

“Yes Fred.”

“Have you talked to Greezek?”

“Not yet. The drones brought me straight to you. Why does one have a foam sword attached to it?”

“Oh that is Knifey. I think the sword came from an amusement park one of the engineers visited with her kids.”

“The drone is named Knifey?!?”

“Yes. Long story. Right now you need to go talk with Greezek. Then report to your post. You had them worried enough to interrupt my coffee time to look for you.”

“Yes Fred. Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

“What would be the point? We found you, and you apologized. I’d be yelling if you didn’t apologize or if you started acting like a fool.”

“I really didn’t mean so much trouble.”

“I know Roomliz. Now go talk with Greezek. I have to get back to upgrading this coffee maker and finding the coffee thief.”

“Someone is stupid enough to steal your coffee?!?”

“Well, not brew more when they take the last of it. Almost as bad.”

“I’ll go find Greezek.”

“Good. And if you find any replicator parts that aren’t being used, I could use them.”

“Morning, Oscar. What is the docket?”

“Morning, sir. The agrarian group held their party. Sadly, it was a bit of a mess. Some of the menu items flopped. It rained. The live music got messed up. And the fireworks had to be canceled because of the weather. While it went well by random party standards, it didn’t compare to the mining groups party.”

“That leaves the marines. And then we can get back to normal.”

“About the concept of normal. The current talk is for this to become an annual event.”

“Do we want it to be an annual event?”

“Sir, do you want to ban it and tell them no?”

“No Oscar, I do not. Other than party news, what else is going on?”

“Some new issues concerning cross-species dating. There have been multiple altercations concerning relationship customs. No serious injuries yet, but it’s a matter of time.”

“Relationship customs. We’ve gone from a colony-wide Terran party competition to issues with relationship customs.”

“At least no one has accidentally launched something into orbit recently.”

“Oscar, if relationship customs are involved, it won’t be an accidental launch. Some poor Terran lad is going to piss off a brood-maven by kissing her daughter, and the next thing we know, the Terran lad will be on permanent display as a frozen corpse in a stable synchronous orbit over the brood’s home.”

“I was thinking that we need a guidebook of some sort. To prevent further issues.”

“You mean you don’t already have one?”

“No sir, we don’t. I checked around, and there have been some attempts in the past, but typically with only one species. That won’t really help us much here.”

“I’ll see what we have. Between us, I’m sure we can prevent the worst issues.”

“Ah. You clearly don’t know much about Terran youth.”

“I thought they were basically slightly smaller versions of Terran adults.”

“Physically, yes. However. Terran youths like to rebel. So if we put together a guide on cross-species relationships, some of them will use it as a checklist to piss off their parents.”

“Exactly how did Terrans manage to live long enough to evolve? High Command has a number of theories about this, but the more time I spend around you, the more I think it’s some sort of cosmic joke.”

“Possibly. We generally don’t think about it.”

“Because it sounds like you just told me that Terran youths will go out of their way cause issues that might result in injury or death.”

“Sir, you do remember that the Aussies are attempting to harness an active volcano as a power station, yes?”

“Granted. But that has a purpose. Pissing off parents seems…less useful.”

“Sir, I’ve cautioned you against using logic or reason to understand Terrans. That is a leading cause of madness in non-Terran officers.”

“Right, right. I forgot. So do you have any ideas?”

“We need to warn all species at the same time. Not just a guide for the Terrans, but a general guide for everyone.”

“How are we the first colony to deal with this? Terrans have been around hundreds of different species.”

“This colony seems to have to have largest mix. We have, what? Thirty different species?”

“The sound about right.”

“Well sir, previous colonies have had maybe five or six. I’m not sure why this colony has so many more.”

“Hmmmmm. There was something about the recruiting drive. High Command did something different. I don’t recall exactly what.”

“It doesn’t really matter all that much. We just need to ensure that all species have some understanding about relationship customs. Even then I assume there will be issues.”

“Yes, that makes sense. We should be able to head off the more obvious threats.”

“Agreed. Speaking of, how is the young lady and the Aussie hybrid?”

“They are going to surgically remove the offspring in two rotations. Something about possible danger to the mother.”

“Excellent. I’ll update the Aussies.”

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’
10 Human Fred Stops for Coffee

“Hey Fred. Question.”

“Yeah Greezek?”

“You seen Roomliz?”

“Shit. Is he still missing?”

“Well he left after you expressed your annoyance, and he hasn’t been back to his quarters.”

“Damn. Give me a sec.” Fred pulls out his coms unit. “Hey. It’s Fred. Fire up Stabby and Knifey. Recon. We have a missing being. I’ll send details.”

Fred types for a few moments, grunts, and shoves his com unit back into his pocket. “That should do it.”

“Who are Stabby and Knifey? And why send the after Roomliz? We don’t want to hurt him.”

“Oh. Right. Human engineers have a tradition of having two all-purpose drones named Stabby and Knifey. In the early days of humans working on non-human ships, the story goes that a human got bored and put a knife on a cleaning robot just to see what would happen. Well it terrorized the ship, but another human affixed knives to a second cleaning robot to battle the first. As humans do, they named the first one Stabby and the second one Knifey.”

“So you just sent two knife-wielding drones to look for Roomliz?!”

“Nah. We don’t put real knives on them anymore. I think Stabby has a foam sword, but we mostly just paint them.”

“And you think they can find Roomliz?”

“Oh KNOW they will.”

“You sound very confident, Fred.”

“Because I am! I helped build this station, so I have the full schematics. All layers. And I personally programmed Stabby and Knifey with their search protocols.”

“So they know the station. How will they know Roomliz?”

“Biometrics. Both drones have scanners. We find that useful in the event of damage to a station. We can use them as search and rescue.”

“Where do you think he is hiding?”

“No clue. We will find him and ask.”

“You are very calm about this. I’m anxious, and I don’t even like him very much.”

“Ha! Well, we can scan the entire station in a few hours, so I’m not concerned. He needed some time to think—or pout. Now he needs to get back to work. Speaking of work, why aren’t you at the dock?”

“I’m on stand-by during the repairs. They said it will be a day or two until the dock is ready, so I’m more or less on paid leave.”

“Standing by to stand by. Well, enjoy. I’ve got to figure out who is drinking all of the coffee and not brewing more. Oh. And I need to work on the general scanning array. It failed to notice the pirates, so I’ve been tasked with finding out why it failed.”

“A coffee thief is more important than the station's defenses?!?”

“Greezek, which would you prefer: a band of idiot pirates or every human on the station without coffee and extra pissed off that it was stolen?”

“You said you had an update, Oscar?”

“Yes Commander. We have had some extra luck. An agent has found some solid data regarding the origins of one of the hybrids. The hybrids attempted to wipe all traces from their clothes and equipment, one got sloppy. A bottle of medication.”

“How does a bottle help?”

“The label and contents didn’t match the bottle manufacturing. The bottle is made from a specific type of polymer, one not used for the medication it contained or from the sector of origin for the label details. That bottle is from a system fairly close to us.”

“I understand different materials are used in different places, but how can you be certain?”

“It’s not widely known, but many manufacturers include signatures in likely-to-copied items. It’s a sort of a quality assurance and anti-counterfeit mechanism.”

“Oscar, how do you…no. I don’t want to know. So the bottle is from one place. Everything else has no clear origin. Got it. How far away?”

“This sector, but two groups inward.”

[Note: Locations are defined by, quadrant, sector, group, and system. Inwards indicates towards the central groups.]

“Hmmmm. Still. One clue isn’t enough to send a ship. That system have anything we want or any similarities?”

“It has three occupied planets, two dedicated to manufacturing. The third is agricultural and admin. Let me check…yes, mine raw resources they could use.”

“I’ll send a colony representative to explore trade options. That is simple and won’t draw attention.”

“Right. See about then getting a tour of some of the facilities. We won’t send any agents, and the rep won’t know anything more than trade. A rep asking about what other manufacturing takes place and other trade options will simply look normal.”

“Good call. What about a covert scanner or similar?”

“I’d recommend against it, sir. If found, it would likely be assumed to be industrial espionage, but it would still put them on guard.”

“Agreed. I’ll let you know after the rep returns.”

“Yes sir.”

1  Human Fred and Food
2  Human Fred Again
3  Human Fred Yet Again
4  Human Fred The Saga Continues
5  Human Fred Rides Again
6  Human Fred *Sigh*
7  Human Fred Rolls Out
8  Human Fred Attempts a Nap
9  Human Fred Doh’

Fred walked into the mess hall, heading for the coffee pot. It was empty. Again. With a sign, Fred started the insanely complicated task of filling it with water, filling the coffee filter, and—hardest of all—turning it on. 

As it began to brew, a nervous being approached him. “Are you Human Fred?”

“No. I’m Fred.”

“The one who screamed at Roomliz?”

“Yep. That was me. Fucker deserved it.”

“Ah, well, we can’t find him.”

“Don’t look at me. When I left he was alive and scared.”

“I know that, but when he didn’t show up for work, we went to check on him, and we can’t find him.”

“Look, I’m really looking forward to this coffee. Why are you asking me?”

“Well, we thought you might know where he is.”

“Dude. I have no idea. He likely just wandered off to be alone.”

“That isn’t like him.”

“Not to repeat myself or anything, but my coffee is almost ready, and I’m looking forward to it. Since when am I the expert on Roomliz? He can wander off if he wants.”

“What if he is in trouble?”

“You will see that I am pouring my coffee into my mug. Soon I hope to drink my coffee. You, however, are interfering with this sequence of events. I can only conclude that you know nothing about humans. Or you have a death wish.”

“I do not wish to die!”

“Ignorance. Close enough. Look. I really don’t know why you are talking to me. I have no idea where he is. I haven’t seen him or heard from him. Now, I would like to enjoy my coffee. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Could you enjoy your coffee and help us look?”

“I take it your species is a peaceful species. One not used to things such as self-preservation. Allow me to be more blunt. If I don’t get to enjoy my coffee without further interruptions, I shall hit you. For every subsequent interruption, I shall hit you again. Now, I’m going over to that nice table, I’m going to sit down, and I’m going to enjoy my fucking coffee. After that, I’m going back to work.”