The Junk That Said Doom, an invader zim fanfic

A cylindrical plug gently connected with its corresponding port. A small spark confirmed contact. All that was left to do was reconnect a heat exchanger and the device would—well, might—be ready for use again.

Tog Fawm wiped a few beads of sweat from his blue, fuzzy brow. This wasn't a job for the weak. If the device had been damaged to a slightly greater extent, lives might have been lost and new deck plating would have been needed for three levels, possibly damaging the ship's greater structure in the process. Those fools needed to stop being so reckless, especially since they were so deep in interstellar space. Lunatics, all of them.

Slowly, surely, Tog slid the heat exchanger back into its housing, connected two ribbon plugs, and then closed an internal lid to fully secure the exchanger before finally replacing the device's glossy silver outer shell. All that was left to do was test it.

Tog plugged the power cable into a nearby wall outlet in his mechanic bay. The lights dimmed briefly, indicating a power draw by the device's capacitors. This was the moment of truth.

He pressed down on a lever that jutted from the side of the device until it clicked. No explosion. He pressed a small button adjacent to the lever, causing the lever to spring back up. Again, no explosion. No electrocution. No smoke. No death.

The holographic display screen on the side of the device confirmed that it was functioning properly, displaying text: BREAD NOT INSERTED. INSERT BREAD.

Tog smiled. The toaster was back in business.

"...And then he said something about the asteroid not being fit to serve as a properly greased wheel. It seriously made no sense at all. You know what I mean?"

Tog turned his head to face the source of the feminine voice. Like him, she was a Silhouette, a vaguely feline species with a boomerang-shaped head; flat, noseless face; slender body and long tail, covered from ear-to-toe in fur. Hers was yellow with green patches, while his was light blue with regions of silver covering the forearms, lower legs, and latter half of the tail. The eyes of both were solid orange.

How long had she been there? Had he been that absorbed into his work? "Uh...yeah...huh?"

Yai Sovi raised an inquisitive brow, but retained her cheerful smile. Always with the smiling, that Yai. "I was told a riddle. I believe it was about a moose pondering the usefulness of a pancake in zero gravity while a king seeks a spare wheel for his travel bus. He considers an asteroid, but the asteroid is not fit to serve as a greased wheel. Do you know the answer?"

That was a headache-inducing question like no other. Tog didn't need more of those; fixing the ship's problems was strenuous enough. "Impossible. Who told you that riddle? Retheno?"

"Retheno."

Of course. The ship's resident Meekrob janitor. The guy was always making ridiculous, brain-fracturing riddles and philosophical statements while obsessively scrubbing the decks and walls. His mysterious nature was amplified significantly by the fact that he used a modified robot as his primary means of getting around, controlling it from a cockpit within the chest cavity and rarely emerging.

"Really not surprised. I'd recommend not thinking on his words too deeply if you value your sanity."

"You silly thing, I lost that personality flaw a long time ago. But I'll keep that in mind anyway." She glanced over his shoulder to the toaster behind him, gently swaying her tail back and forth. "How's the bread-cooky-thingy?"

"Fully-functional and ready to be ruined again." He knew it would be broken again in the very near future. With this crew, it was unavoidable.

Yai clapped with joy. "Goody! I'll take it back to the galley!"

A moment after she had finished her sentence, the intercom blared to life with a ridiculously excited voice. "HEY GUYS, this is your beloved and gleefully humble communications officer and chef and joy-source Sijjatooshaskoobis with NON-HORRIBLE NEWS! First, I'd like to thank you for taking the time to listen to this broadcast. It is my dearest honor and pleasure to bring such announcements to your eager ears because THAT IS WHAT I DO! Okay! Yeah! YEEEAAHH! AnywaaaaAAAAAaays, Captain Murom says we just discovered a NEW DERELICT in a nearby star system! Junk for the taking! YOOOOO! Get your hard-hats ready for another adventure! Arrival will take three minutes and IT IS TOO EXCITING TO HANDLE! Can you HANDLE it? NO, YOU CANNOT! IT IS JUST...THAT...EXCITING!"—He cleared his throat—"Yeah. Yeah! Sijja out. As you were. WOOOOOO-"

The intercom cut off abruptly.

• • •

Captain Murom Ebijan lifted his finger from a button on his console labeled COMM KILL. Out of all the ideas he had ever come up with throughout his seventy-three years of life, the grizzled, gray-skinned Vortian was most pleased with having installed this button. While he respected and valued Sijjatooshaskoobis' contributions as an active and enthusiastic crewman, the Conician's voice began to grate on his nerves over time.

He wondered if every member of that species was completely insane. Shloonktapooxis of The Resisty came to mind with screaming clarity. If those two somehow met, Murom figured it would spell the end of all things.

The ship dropped out of its superlight jump and into the presence of a planet, which appeared to be a faded orange ball of dirt with two moons and a breathtaking set of rings. A red circle on Murom's holographic heads-up display indicated the location of their target, superimposed over the planet.

The Kopaziha was a large Vortian utility ship owned by Murom and served as the flagship of the Kopaziha Salvage and Repair Company. It was similar in form to the Resisty's former battleship, which had a boxy body with a spherical command section in the front and large ax-like nacelles attached to the sides and jutting ahead; but the Kopaziha's main body was bulkier and its nacelles were shaped more akin to sabers. It also lacked the ball turret on the back, having replaced it with an additional cargo bay.

Most often, Murom and his crew would scout various places for abandoned structures and junk fields, then sell the rendered scrap to whoever needed it. Other times, they would be called for the sake of deep-space repairs and, if the situation was dire enough, towing a damaged ship to the nearest port.

This time, their target was a small, angular frigate that had obvious blast damage; a large chunk of its engine cluster was gone, and the windows of the command deck had apparently been blown out. It was simply drifting, a dead hulk now being pulled into the gravity well of the lonely planet in the background. Murom was glad their scouting probe had found it when it did.

"Currrrsed."

Murom turned his head to his left, locking his light red eyes with his Irken navigator who was staring with his usual unnerving gaze. Fairly tall for an Irken, Skleng was the resident conspiracy theorist, always speculating the most horrific possibilities of the most mundane things and comparing them to known conspiracies of equal absurdity.

"What?"

"That ship." Skleng pointed dramatically at the screen. "THAT...may very well be a bad omen. Remember the ship from the planetoid near Conventia?"

Murom rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Yes, that was a valuable payload. Nothing even remotely terrifying happened."

Skleng's expression became more confident, almost smug. "Do you remember the illness that Comge caught shortly thereafter?"

Murom looked to the other Vortian on his right—Helmsman Comge Dasr—who waved frantically with a ridiculous smile. He then turned back to Skleng. "I believe he ate some of Sijja's more adventurous cooking that day. Didn't sit well with him. It took weeks to clean the bathroom."

"COINCIDENCE?"

"Actually, yes. Sijja even admitted that he had added some ingredients that may not have been the highest quality."

Skleng huffed indignantly and turned to face the planet ahead. "You will see. ALL OF you will see. I am not merely crazy, but full of sweet, gooey insight. GOOEY I SAY!" He immediately shot his gaze back to Murom, eyes wide with intensity. "The goo flows with tenacity and GELATINOUS TRUTH. You must heed my word! We will suffer horribly one of these days, and it MIGHT be from this very ship! It might even be a trap set by the Irken Empire!"

Murom promptly flicked a piece of candy at Skleng, who snatched it from the air in the blink of an eye and consumed it with savage desire. That was another thing Murom was glad for: The spunky new girl Yai Sovi was excellent at confectioneries, proving herself useful outside of her assistance with his company's marketing plans. The candy acted as a cheerfully simplistic mute button for his neurotic Irken navigator.

Murom shook his head and activated his headset, linking with Sijjatooshaskoobis' channel. "Sijja, what's the status on the—"

The intercom loudly cut him off: "FELLOW CREW! The muffins will be ready in FIVE MINUTES! WEEEEOOOOO! Sijja out!"

Everyone in the ship cheered in unison.

Well, that answers that question. Murom switched his headset off and stared ahead for a few moments, relishing in the anticipation of the muffins. "Comge, what's our status?"

The light-gray Vortian pilot twitched one of the horn-tendrils on his head as he studied the heads-up display in front of him. "We still have eighty health-points left and our power cells are still green. We'll be able to do our work before we'll need to seek out some energy pickups around the nearest SPARKLING RIFT. Channeling more points to the scanners! Let's hope the LIZARD-MARAUDERS don't show up at this critical moment! Colonel PFIBILGHAGH will be displeased!"

The look that Murom stabbed at Comge was one of the most penetratingly derisive looks he had ever mustered. WHY NOW, COMGE?

Comge was in his gaming mindset, which the crew affectionately referred to as "Pixel Mode". This occurred sporadically and ranged from simple word replacements to outright roleplaying. He had no control over it, but it didn't seem to detract from his ability to pilot the Kopaziha. It was just ridiculously annoying and hindered his ability to be understood. He also experienced other, similar "modes" that dealt with cartoon shows and playing cards. Comge was a true connoisseur of the colorful and animated.

And yet, Murom was light-years away from amusement. With a snarl, he called out, "Mzafan, TRANSLATION!"

"He says we're doing good in our systemic and power integrity and that he is scanning the target ship for any potential threats."

Already facing to the right, Murom turned his head further back to see the teal-skinned, jumpsuit-clad Trillen crewman standing behind his chair. The Vortian's anger had deflated almost entirely. "Mzafan, how long have you been standing there?"

Mzafan shrugged, causing the blue mane around his neck to puff up a bit. "A couple minutes or so. I was going to tell you that I fixed a bug in the ship's operating system, so we shouldn't have to worry about the toilets going critical anymore. We also got new apps! One of them is a mini-game called Piggy;Adventuring and happens to be a favorite of mine! Even the most bored of us will be amused!" He flicked his glow-tipped antennae with joy.

In an instant, Comge spun around in his chair and narrowed his purple eyes at the Trillen. "You put THAT squealing garbage into the ship?"

Mzafan returned the glare with twice the hatred. "Dare you insult this digital masterpiece? Have you even played it?"

"Yes. The campaign was weak and the storyline had plot holes everywhere. It filled me with MURDEROUS RAGE. Can you FEEL my angst, Miza? CAN YOU?"

"Singleplayer does have some flaws. However, the game's strong point is its multiplayer functionality. It is glorious. You get to experience the savory feeling of obliterating your opponents with various weapons not seen in singleplayer, such as pork mines and the dreaded PIG SCORCHER."

Comge sheepishly shifted his eyes into a corner. "Never tried it."

"Well then." Mzafan clasped his hands behind his back and bobbed the crystalline orb at the tip of his long tail—the orb shifted in color from red anger to orange challenge. "Seems we have a challenge. Are you ready to be stuffed full of FAILURE?"

Another glare preceded Comge's response. "Only if YOU are."

"Good. After this haul, we'll meet up in the game room and begin the slaughter."

The two stared at each other with homicidal passion for a few moments before Mzafan went back to his computer station in a different room, and Comge swiveled back around to face his controls. He brought the ship back from its woefully off-course trajectory, a result of his oblivious negligence.

Murom had his forehead buried in one of his hands during the entire conversation.

Mzafan was an atypical specimen of his species. While most Trillen were very passive, Mzafan was almost the polar opposite: combative, challenging, even bloodthirsty, but usually only when it came to gaming. His adeptness at coding was really the only reason Murom kept him on the ship; otherwise, he'd just send him off to the Resisty or some other analogous group. Mzafan did have a fiery hatred for the Irken Empire, which was responsible for conquering his species and nearly wiping them out. It was this event which caused his peaceful nature to shatter.

Having now recovered from the battle of games, Murom checked some charts on the screen ahead of him, one of which gave the readings from the scans of their target. Lots of relatively valuable metals and other materials, as well as potential goodies in the cargo hold. There were no organic signatures, as expected.

The captain folded his hands on his lap and reclined in his chair with a confident smirk. This was going to be a good haul.

• • •

Yai Sovi made her way to the galley with a skip in her step, happy as a bug in a sugar jar. This repaired toaster would be making its triumphant return! Woo! Fixed toaster!

She made a right turn, entering a corridor before reaching the double doorway of the galley. The push-doors flew open from her entry, though they immediately sprang back and flung her backwards into a wall. Dazed and embarrassed, she reentered more carefully and straightened her shirt with her free hand. At least the toaster was unscathed.

Sijja was busy cooking...whatever he was cooking, completely oblivious to Yai's arrival. Unlike a typical limbless Conician, his gray, funnel-shaped body featured two unattached mechanical arms that floated adjacent to either side, allowing him to do what he did best.

Yai couldn't tell what he was cooking since her species lacked the sense of smell, but she figured it tasted delicious as usual. "The toaster has returned!"

She could have pressed the detonator for a bomb and gotten the same result as Sijja's reaction to her voice. He shrieked, spun around, and held up a comically-oversized spatula for self-defense...but lowered it when he realized who the visitor was. "Yai! Please, not so abrupt! I was just about to enter a sensitive ingredient! We could have died HORRIBLY! Boix does this all the time, that silly girl. Oh, MAN, that one time, so much mess. Took hours to clean, and Miza needed a new shirt! And I needed a new arm!" He paused for a moment. "So, uh...hi."

"Hiiii! Toaster's fixed, thanks to Tog!"

Sijja displayed a beaming smile on his circular, emoticon-like face. "Tog toaster fixed?!"

"Fixed toaster Tog!"

"Tog toaster toasted toasty fixed! WOO! Gimme! I'ma plug it in! Soup's gotta cook anyway."

Sijja merrily snatched the toaster and floated over to an uncluttered countertop. He set the toaster down and plugged the thick power cable into a wall outlet, causing the lights to dim briefly. Two pieces of delicious bread were then dropped into the two slots atop the toaster, descending further as Sijja pressed the lever down and clicked it into place.

The toaster's diagnostic screen displayed optimal readings: The cooling cells were doing their job, the heat exchangers weren't exploding, and the control rods were keeping everything in check.

And then the screen flashed bright red, with bold letters spelling out CRIT. The toaster began to vibrate ominously and the lights flickered in unison with its movement. A second later, the toast popped up, perfectly cooked; the screen went back to its proper blue state, and the toaster sat still. All was as it should be.

Yai clapped and let out an excited, girlish squee, sending Sijja into a brief bout of panic once again. "Hee hee, sorry! By the way, do you know anything about riddles?"

Sijja slowly took a bite of toast as he regained his composure. "I might."

Yai explained the riddle that Retheno had told her. Sijja produced a few sputtering noises before his face was replaced with TV static. His body fell to the floor while his floaty arms launched in opposite directions, flailing on their own accord for a few seconds before going limp. The static was then replaced with the phrase "RECOVERY MODE INITIALIZING," accompanied by a loading bar that was slowly creeping along.

Speechless and horrified, Yai sprinted out of the kitchen, turned around, darted back in to turn off the burner that the soup was sitting upon, tasted the soup with a small spoon, giggled, then sprinted back out.

• • •

The distance between the two ships shrank further—a great gray shark closing in on a wounded seal. The dead husk of a ship was a grim reminder that space could be very unforgiving if one did not tread lightly.

Captain Murom bit down on a steamy Vortdog as the trashed ship—their payday—grew closer to their grasp. He chucked another piece of candy at Skleng as the latter began to open his mouth to make another conspiratorial remark, silencing him before any headache-inducing words could plague any crew that happened to be within earshot.

"Captain, 800 feet remain before contact is made."

"Thank you, Comge. Keep her steady." Murom grinned. The impending victory had a flavor, and it was delicious—distinct from the savory Vortdog he was chewing on.

• • •

"What is this? A visitor?" The disembodied voice would have penetrated the otherwise dead blackness that pervaded the Yollunn's corridors had they not been void of atmosphere. "After all this time? A visitor? Here?"

A snake-like camera gazed in curiosity from one of the bloodstained windows on the port side of the ship. It was one of the few means of perception the ship's artificial intelligence core had at its disposal; the main sensory arrays had all been destroyed long ago. It gauged the approaching Kopaziha, scrutinizing its potential purpose. "Saviors? Pirates? Raiders, perhaps? Oh, I cannot allow that. No no no. Never again, never again. My masters would be displeased, wherever they are. I shall not disappoint you, my masters."

• • •

Comge continued to watch the monitor for a few more moments before pulling a candied meat bar from his pocket and chomping down on it, ripping off a piece and rolling his eyes with pleasure.

Murom remained in his chair, frozen with anticipation as their target drew closer. It wouldn't be long until the docking arms extended from the large frontal prongs of the Kopaziha. Then the fun could begin. It was almost like playing an insanely realistic game. He could practically hear all of the game noises—

"SKLENG! Why are you playing that stupid game during a mission?!"

The Irken broke his gaze from the game screen in front of him, albeit with great effort and a pained expression. "Because the VOICES told me to!"

"What...voices?"

"The voices in the game. They even congratulated me on beating Miza's score!"

Mzafan's frantic voice immediately called out from the background, barely audible: "WAIT, WHAT?!"

It wasn't that big of a deal. It really wasn't, Murom constantly reminded himself. He didn't need to explode. It wasn't necessary. He had the insane urge to do so, but he figured it would just add unnecessary tension to the air. Instead, he calmly faced forward, planted an elbow on an armrest, and rested his cheek on his hand. "Oh, that's kinda neat."

Again, Mzafan called out: "NO IT ISN'T! HE MUST DIE!"

Skleng's hands were nothing but a swarm of thumbs surrounding his controller, his face cringing with passionate fury. His in-game character used an oversized hammer called the DEATHPORK;SMASHING to propel a few of his enemies into a mountain, obliterating it. His character was then surrounded by pink flames, swirls and hearts before he took off into the sky to fight another airborne character. An epic battle commenced.

Just as he was about to knock his opponent into a nearby sewage facility, a line of text appeared on his screen: GET AWAY FROM THIS SHIP.

Puzzled, Skleng paused the game. Who dared send him a text message during his gaming session? The text persisted, superimposed over the pause screen. It was the same when he went to the Options menu.

The text changed: TURN AROUND NOW.

Skleng scratched his head.

Again: BUY NEW GAGOOSH CLEANER NOW FOR ONLY EIGHT EASY PAYMENTS OF 19.95 MONIES.

The Irken plummeted into a full-blown panic. He began frantically pointing at his screen with one hand while waving at Murom, managing to produce only a forced squeak instead of words.

Murom continued to focus on the derelict. "What. What, Skleng? Use your words."

Finally, he could speak. "C-Captain! The game! It speaks to me! It speaks of THINGS."

"Oh."

"Yes! It tells me of GETTING AWAY and TURNING AROUND."

"Ah. So Piggy;Adventuring has a dance mode?"

"No! It annoys me by putting text in front of what I'm doing! I WANT TO KILL!"

"I see."

"And it tells me to buy GAGOOSH! The price is moderately reasonable!"

Murom finally switched his attention so he could properly glare daggers into his navigator. Skleng was acting more insane than usual. Nerves were being rubbed raw now. "It's an ad, Skleng. A stupid ad. Maybe even a virus. Remind me to scold Miza later...when I feel like it. Maybe."

"But—"

"Besides, Gagoosh hasn't been around for the past...the past forty years." Murom's eyes went wide. Get away? Turn around? Then an ad for an old cleaning agent?

A moment later, all of the console screens turned crimson red and displayed the same message: LEAVE OR SUFFER.

• • •

Sparks went airborne as Tog attempted to snap two halves of a beach ball-sized piece of machinery back together. It held for a few seconds before the opposing forces within caused it to explode, sending Tog careening into a snack machine. The two halves ended up lodging themselves firmly into the walls.

Irritated, Tog coughed and wiped the carbon dust off of his face before slowly pulling himself back up to his feet. I'll need to go at this from a different angle.

Tog staggered over to the black starburst that marked where he had been working on the floor. He scratched one of the points of his crescent head before turning back toward the snack machine. A cold soda sounded really good—delicious, even!

What he got instead was the darkened image of a short figure standing between him and the snack machine, staring at him with navy-blue eyes.

He was clinging to the pipes on the ceiling before he knew it, tail puffed-up like a Christmas tree. "Gah! Don't do that, Boix!"

The female Irken stared up at the shivering Silhouette with no expression whatsoever. She spoke in a monotonous voice, "You need to relax. I brought something for you."

Tog cocked a curious brow and let go of the ceiling, landing on the floor face-first as a result of his pant leg getting snagged on one of the pipes.

Boix knelt and handed Tog a small glass bottle filled with a mysterious red fluid. "I saw the whole ordeal. I think this will help with the connection problems."

Tog lifted his head and opened one eye to examine it, the other still wincing from the pain of the fall. "This being what?"

"A special thing I concocted earlier. It should work. Just dab it on the connection points."

Boix was the Kopaziha's resident chemist and artist. When she wasn't painting or sketching, she was messing around with chemicals that usually ended up helping one thing or another, ranging from Tog's mechanical problems to Sijja's cooking. She seemed to outwardly lack a personality, though her playful mischief indicated otherwise.

"Oh, thanks." Tog gently plucked the small bottle from Boix's grasp, then pried himself from the floor. After dislodging the two halves of the mechanism from the walls, he went back to his previous work spot and did as Boix had recommended. The two halves were joined together and fastened as they had been earlier, but without a horrifying detonation.

"Well, then." Tog stood and looked down upon the finished mechanism. "Now I can reinstall this into the refrigeration core. The replacement wasn't terribly efficient."

"And all will be proper, as it should properly be."

In an instant, the mechanism was gone, having been flung to the opposite side of the large room. In its place was a small robot that looked eerily similar to a teddy bear, but with menacing mechanical arms that had scythe-claws for hands. It jumped up and snatched the bottle from Tog's hand, then chucked it into the floor, shattering it. After dancing a quick samba around the resulting puddle of red, the robot exploded, throwing Tog and Boix a dozen feet away.

• • •

"HULL BREACH! Comge, activate the reverse thrusters! Get us out of here!"

The Kopaziha continued to drift closer to the Yollunn despite Murom's command. He turned his attention to Comge, but saw only an empty chair. On the floor nearby, Comge was being swarmed by tiny ursine robots, thrashing about. "Comge!"

The Vortian pilot wrestled around on the floor before finally getting back to his pointed feet and darting away, screaming at the top of his lungs and chucking robots every direction.

The rest of the crew were not much better off. The little robots were everywhere, preferring to latch onto people and poke them relentlessly—not with claws, but with blunt electrical weapons that gave a mild but horribly irritating sting. Swarms of robots continued to flow out of the Yollunn, propelling themselves to their hapless target. At the same time, the Kopaziha's control screens displayed more threatening text: DEPART OR DIE.

Murom kicked a robot away before attempting to get Skleng's attention, but the Irken had already encased himself in a protective silvery shell produced by his PAK, the backpack-like device that all Irkens wore for the sake of survival and utility.

Three robots were feebly punching the shell with their claw-hands. One of them dropped off, looking quite defeated. It ran away in tears before disappearing in a fiery, shrapnel-filled blast.

Toward the back of the bridge, robots went flying as Mzafan almost launched a door off its hinges as he sprinted in, creating a small explosion. He was remarkably unscathed for someone with such a panicked expression that would have otherwise denoted he had been in a brawl. A robot leaped at him, but he effortlessly knocked it out with a zap of electricity from the crystalline orb on his tail.

That little trick happened to catch Murom's attention while he was beating a robot away with a Vortdog. "Miza! Assist Comge with your magic tail of magic! We need a pilot!"

The Trillen didn't respond; instead, he darted off to the nearest snack machine and ordered a soda.

"MIZA! Stop ignoring me!"

Mzafan glanced at the captain in the middle of a swig, casually zapping a robot with his tail. "Yes?"

"Comge needs to fly this thing! Go use your MIGHTY TAIL..."—The last two words echoed dramatically—"...and free Comge from his fluffy prison!"

Mzafan took another sip. "Sure."

What happened next could not have been predicted. An explosion opened a hole in the wall next to a double doorway, scattering robots everywhere. Standing—or rather, floating—in the hole was Sijjatooshaskoobis holding a tray of fresh muffins, the savory aroma wafting through the area and boosting the morale of the crew. His grin was nothing short of ecstatic. "MUFFINNNNNNS!"

• • •

Zrii Mek kept her hands interlocked over her head as she sat huddled in a corner of the sickbay beneath a stretcher. The Vortian doctor wasn't quite sure what was going on, but with all the screaming and explosions outside the desk-blockaded door, she figured it wasn't a time of merriment. Happy place, happy place, fluffy creatures, candied fruit...

She was accompanied by two other individuals: Yai Sovi, who was huddled up next to her; and a less-than-panicked crewman by the name of Kizh'kax, who was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the door with his solid red eyes.

Kizh'kax was one of the few remaining Blorchians—affectionately referred to as the "Slaughtering Rat People" by the Irken Empire—known to exist in the galaxy, his world having been conquered by Invader Skoodge and blasted to sterilization by the subsequent Organic Sweep orbital bombardment. He only survived by being off-world at the time, having been abducted by alien scientists along with a scant few others of his kind.

His burning hatred for the Empire was rivaled only by his desire to make a name for himself in the realm of engineering, a byproduct of being exposed to alien technology. As a result of his exemplary skills, he had become the chief engineer of the Kopaziha.

His dark gray fur raised slightly as another explosion jarred the floor. "It's not so bad. You know? It's not so bad."

Zrii opened one eye in shock. "It is bad! IT IS BADLY BAD!"

"Badness!" Yai plucked a chip from a nearby snack bag and popped it into her mouth. "Awful bad! But this chip is really good. CHIPS!"

"Indeed, chips." Kizh'kax rubbed his chin in thought. "But I do not desire chips. I desire victory. How can we acquire victory?"

All three pondered this mystery for a few moments. Their train of thought chugged along unhindered until two loud THUMPS derailed it, having come from the middle of the room. Kizh'kax snapped into his defensive stance, claws extended, a hiss emanating from his mouth—a holdover from his people's primitive culture. Yai and Zrii shrieked and clung to each other for dear life.

Tog and Boix stood up from the floor and dusted themselves off; they had come in through a vent in the ceiling. The vent grate, dangling from two hinges, came loose and whacked Tog on the head, sending him to the floor again.

Kizh'kax relaxed and shook his head. "Guys, please. That's rude. It really is. Couldn't you knock first?"

"I don't think Tog is much into knocking. Didn't see a doorbell, either. He was in the lead. Blame him." Boix nodded assuredly, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

Yai shot an accusing glare at Tog. "Yeah, Tog is always doing these things. Never knocking, always barging in and rambling about STUFF."

The sudden negativity threw Tog for a loop. "Wait, what?"

Boix patted Tog on the back. "We're just messing with you. Kizh'kax, how's everything holding up in here?"

Tog raised a brow as Yai sent him a cheerful smile and a shrug. Kizh'kax, amused as he was, showed none of it in his expressions. "Using this room as a bunker. Listening to the chaos. Got any war stories yet?"

Tog prepared to speak, but Boix cut him off. "A little robot destroyed one of Tog's toys and then exploded. We heard more coming, so we escaped through a vent. The end."

The group heard a screaming crewman speeding along an adjacent corridor, followed by the sound of many tiny footsteps. Another explosion was felt shortly thereafter.

Kizh'kax sighed. "Yeah, the end of us."

Zrii Mek crawled out of her miniature shelter and walked up to the Blorchian, placing her hands on the edges of his mouth and pulling them into the form of a smile. "Do not lose hope! If we survive, we can have dinner! Just think of the possibilities!"

A passionless glare was his only response.

• • •

A muffin disappeared from Sijja's tray in an instant, engulfed by an enthusiastic Mzafan. Crumbs flew everywhere in the process, and he casually kicked another robot away with one of his strong digitigrade legs. "Delicious!"

"Indeed!" Sijja beamed with a joy that was almost psychotic. "Boix helped me with this batch, she did! Some new serum she came up with was supposed to enhance the flavor. She also mentioned possible side effects such as superpowers. CAN YOU FLY NOW?"

Mzafan looked at one of his three-fingered hands, flexing each digit. His expression was such that he could have been witnessing something worthy of being written in a history book...but then he shot his yellow eyes back to Sijja, his expression now dull. "Nope, but the flavor is exceptional."

"Aww, no superpowers?"

"No, unless the desire for another muffin counts."

Another robot scampered by, holding someone's wallet and a mug of overheated coffee. Once it passed behind Mzafan, it was launched across the room by a bright arc of electricity emitted by Mzafan's tail orb. The robot exploded brilliantly against the far wall, and the airborne coffee landed on Murom's head, resulting in frantic screaming.

"Well that felt funny." Mzafan turned his head to inspect his tail orb, the source of the sensation. Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen, except the long charred streak running along the floor in the direction of the large smoking starburst on the far wall. "Uh."

Another robot ran by, flailing its arms like a pair of propellers. Again, Mzafan's tail orb zapped the robot into oblivion.

The muffin tray suddenly produced a protective dome over the top and launched itself back into the galley, colliding with a few crew members along the way. Sijja now had a very determined look on his face, frightening Mzafan. "CAPTAIIIIIN! WE HAS A NEW WEAPON!"

Murom, still steaming from the coffee, was busy swatting robots away with a flyswatter, though he wasn't making much headway other than offending a few of the robots to tears. "FINALLY!"

Sijja lifted Mzafan over the single antenna atop his flat head. "Use the Trillen as a weapon! His tail makes things EXPLODE! KA-BEWM!"

Mzafan's eyes went wide. "Wait, what are you do—"

The Conician chucked the screaming Trillen across the room. Murom caught him and strapped him to a long, narrow pipe that had come loose from the ceiling. Using the pipe as a support to keep Mzafan's body strait and tail out, he held his new living weapon like a rifle and proceeded to race around the bridge. Robots were zapped right and left, many of them exploding on the spot.

The bridge was cleared in short order. Pleased, Murom bellowed, "ONWAAAARD!" and advanced into the rest of the ship with a handful of crew in tow, all of them howling like madmen.

• • •

Murom climbed back into his seat, chewing a bite of the Vortdog he had in his hand. Comge also returned to his seat, as did Skleng and the other bridge crew. A sense of satisfaction permeated the air, tinged slightly by the scent of burned metal.

Except for Mzafan. Just behind Murom's chair lay the exhausted Trillen, sprawled out and drooling with the occasional twitch. Faint sparks popped and fizzled from his tail orb, the effects of the eldritch muffin having worn off.

The robots had been defeated and the ship taken back under control. They had overshot the Yollunn thanks to Comge's absence, instead flying into the planet's rings; the hull breach had been patched as well. Despite how the robots were gone, the threatening messages and ads lingered on the screens.

It didn't take long for the Kopaziha to be put back on course. Ready for action, Murom popped the rest of the Vortdog into his mouth. "Okay! That was...something. Now then, Sijja, hail the ship! We don't need more of those horrible little things coming after us. I think we broke Miza, too."

Mzafan didn't respond.

"Ask that ship why it attacked us!"

Sijjatooshaskoobis whooped his acknowledgment before pressing a few buttons on his console. "Attention, mystery ship! This is the Kopaziha! We wish to know why you attacked us! Why so many tiny robots that exploded with such fire?"

The text on the screens changed: THE CREW OF THE YOLLUNN DOES NOT APPRECIATE YOUR PRESENCE. YOU ARE A THREAT. LEAVE NOW. WILL SEND ANOTHER SWARM. GAGOOSH IS NOW ON SALE AT YOOGROG'S GROCERY CRATER. GAGOOSH — SERVING ALL YOUR CLEANY SANITATION NEEDS.

Crew? I thought the scanners hadn't detected any lifeforms on that ship. "Comge, the scanners didn't pick up any life signs, right?"

"Right, sir! It could be referring to non-organics, like the horrifying robots it sent after us. Or maybe it's gone all crazy and stuff!"

"Stuff indeed." Murom cleared his throat and focused on their target. "Yollunn, this is Captain Murom Ebijan of the Kopaziha. We are a salvage and repair company. We detect no lifeforms aboard your ship. Your hull is badly damaged and you are being pulled into the gravity well of a nearby planet."

The text changed again: WE DETECT NO STRUCTURAL DAMAGE. ALL CREW IS ACCOUNTED FOR. NEAREST PLANET IS FIFTY-FIVE MILLION MILES OUT. YOUR DECEIT HAS BEEN NOTED. PREPARE TO BE STUFFED WITH CHEF SAFUJABA'S LATEST DELICIOUS VORTDOG CREATION, THE BLOATED SHREEVEEKEE, AVAILABLE AT THE NEAREST FRU'S FEEDING TROUGH.

Murom nodded. "So the ship's A.I. has gone crazy. And its rambling is making me hungry! DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT, SKLENG!"

The Irken sulked, deprived of another opportunity to share his wisdom.

The Yollunn produced another message: ENTER QUERY.

A horn-tendril twitched in confusion on Murom's head. "It thinks it's a search engine, now?"

Everyone practically flew out of their skin when Yai blasted into the bridge, her face vivid with eagerness. "I HAVE A QUESTION TO ASK IT!"

Before Murom could protest, or even recover from his shock, Yai ran up to his chair and blurted, "Mister ship, please answer me this: A moose ponders the usefulness of a pancake in zero gravity while a king seeks a spare wheel for his travel bus. He considers an asteroid, but the asteroid is not fit to serve as a greased wheel."

A long, agonizing silence endured. Comge raced out of the bridge, clutching his head and growling in pain from the mental assault. Murom simply stared ahead, wondering what had just happened. Yai's smile continued to beam. In the background, Retheno the Meekrob janitor stood in a corner, holding a mop. A digital tear trickled down his otherwise metallic face. "It's so beautiful."

Finally, more text: THE KOPAZIHA MUST BE PURGED. CHARGING MAIN LASER.

Small maneuvering jets fired from the sides of the Yollunn, rotating it so the two ships were facing one another. Electricity arced all over the forward portion of the ship, and a point in the center began to glow.

Murom still wasn't sure what was going on. Neither was anyone else. A few more silent seconds passed before everyone began screaming hysterically.

The thought of commanding Comge to take them out of the line of fire had crossed Murom's mind, but Comge was nowhere to be seen. If they survived this fiasco, Comge was going to get a merciless lecture like no other.

In a flash, the Yollunn exploded, its decayed reactor having gone critical. Large glowing chunks of the ship were scattered in a brilliant starburst, some of which collided with the frontal structures of the Kopaziha and gave it a nasty jolt, throwing a few of crew from their seats. What remained of the Yollunn's stern tumbled toward the orange planet behind it.

The bridge was silent again. Slowly and carefully, Murom climbed back into his seat and checked the Kopaziha's status. Remarkably, no heavy damage had been sustained, though some of the forward sensors would need to be replaced. "Well, okay. That works, too."

Yai wasn't quite as optimistic, standing frozen as her tail hung limp. In fact, it appeared as though she was about to burst into tears. "Was...it something I said?"

A door creaked open near the back of the bridge as Comge stumbled back in. He was holding an ice pack against the left side of his head and looked absolutely exhausted. "Let's not have anymore riddles."

Skleng, on the other hand, had quite the vibrant and accomplished expression, pointing vigorously at the expanding cloud of dust and shrapnel ahead of them. "See? SEE?! It told you! It WAS cursed! Maybe next time you will LISTEN to the things I make known to be LISTENED to by LISTENING ears!"

The Irken exploded into a fit of maniacal laughter before being knocked out by a falling pipe segment.

Another door opened near the back, this time by Tog. He had a quizzical, almost fearful look on his face and quickly glanced around for any signs of death or danger. "Did we just get hit by an asteroid or what?"

Murom waved off his statement without making eye contact. "Nah, the ship we were gonna salvage exploded. We're cool now."

"Oh, okay." Tog made his way over to Murom's command chair, casually stepping over the catatonic Mzafan along the way as though the Trillen was merely an obstacle that had always been there. Tog watched as the Yollunn's stern shrank as it drifted closer to its final resting place. "Tragic."

"Oh yeah, we'll need help with repairs. I hope you like spacewalks."

Tog hated spacewalks, and his grimace proved it. What was more irritating was how Murom already knew this fact very well. "S-sure."

Another jolt was felt throughout the ship, although most of the crew recognized it as being less like an impact and more like a bomb went off in one of the cabins. At this, Murom sighed heavily. "What is it NOW?"

A stream of holographic data began scrolling in front of Sijja's face, giving a diagnostic of the damage. For no apparent reason, he put on a ridiculous smile. "Nothing to worry too much about. The toaster EXPLODED again."

Oh, that's all? Relieved, Murom gave a confident thumbs-up. "Tog can fix it."

The Silhouette winced.

"Now then," Murom adjusted his sitting position, "since we are no longer in danger, I say we do what we came here to do. Collect the scrap!"

A single crewman called out from the background, "YEEAAAHHH, SCRAP!"

• • •

It didn't take long for the Kopaziha to collect the scrap since it was essentially pre-shredded. In the meantime, the rest of the Yollunn burned up as it passed through the planet's atmosphere.

Their sense of accomplishment was accompanied by their sense of relief. They had survived an attack with no casualties and still got what they had come for. Indeed, it was a time of celebration.

The crew laughed and conversed as they stuffed themselves with Sijja's muffins, seemingly endless in supply.

Mzafan, meanwhile, was still sprawled on the floor, barely conscious. Why me?

He felt a wet, shaggy object engulf his head. Retheno used his mop to scrub the Trillen's head for a few moments before placing the mop back into its pail and walking off to a different area to clean, whistling a cheerful tune.

• • •