The Galactic Plumber

You ever have one of those days where every decision just makes things worse? Where you think, "This can't possibly get any worse," and then the universe decides to take that as a personal challenge?

Yeah. That was today.

The cooling vents had bought us some time, but Specimen 37 was already twitching, its semi-frozen form cracking as it slowly thawed. Meanwhile, the unidentified ship was still looming outside, weapons primed, and our captain was seconds away from making a desperate deal with space pirates or worse.

I hate space.

Benny scrambled with his containment unit, fingers flying over the controls. "Uh, Logan? Bad news."

"Oh, please, I love bad news," I deadpanned. "Give it to me."

"This thing wasn't really designed for… you know… aggressive biomass. More like delicate space moss."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "So, you're telling me the box we're supposed to shove this thing into is about as strong as a shoebox?"

Benny winced. "A very advanced shoebox."

Before I could start screaming into the void, the ship shook violently. Over the intercom, Orla's voice crackled through.

"We just took a warning shot! They're done waiting, Logan!"

Yeah, that sounded about right.

I glanced at the engine room's status display. The reactor was still in the danger zone. If we didn't stabilize it soon, we wouldn't have to worry about the enemy ship—we'd just explode ourselves.

"Alright, new plan." I grabbed a metal rod from the emergency tool rack. "We beat the poop monster into submission, shove it into the containment unit, and then figure out how to not die from enemy fire. Sound good?"

Benny looked at me like I'd just suggested fighting a black hole with a spoon. "I… don't love it."

"Yeah, well, we're fresh out of better ideas."

Specimen 37 twitched again. Then, faster than I thought possible for a thing made of semi-solid sludge, it lunged.

"MOVE!" I shouted, diving aside as the thing flailed at us. Its slimy tendrils slammed into a control panel, sending sparks flying. The lights flickered, and an ominous warning tone echoed through the engine room.

"System integrity compromised," the ship's AI droned. "Structural failure in sixty seconds."

Oh, fantastic. Just what we needed.

Benny scrambled backward, barely dodging a swipe from the creature's gooey appendage. "Logan, this is officially the worst day of my life!"

"Mine too, buddy," I grunted, swinging the metal rod at Specimen 37. It made contact with a wet splat, but all that did was make the thing angrier. It let out a low, warbling screech, then lunged again—straight at me.

I braced for impact.

Then, out of nowhere, the entire thing stopped.

Frozen mid-motion.

Not by ice this time. No, this was something else.

The ship-wide comm system crackled again, and that same eerie, distorted voice from the enemy vessel came through.

"SPECIMEN. HALT."

And it listened.

Specimen 37 twitched, its glowing, oozy eyes locking onto nothing in particular. Its body trembled, then began shifting again—shrinking.

I didn't like that.

Benny's eyes darted between me and the creature. "Uh. Logan? Do we maybe, possibly let the captain know that our poop monster takes orders from the enemy?"

I exhaled through gritted teeth. "Yeah, Benny. I think that's probably a good idea."

Before either of us could move, the ship shook again—but this time, instead of an explosion, the gravity field flickered. A strange, pulsing hum filled the air, and suddenly Specimen 37 began floating.

I backed up. "Nope. Don't like that."

Benny was already scrambling for his communicator. "Captain! Captain, we have a—"

Too late.

A bright light filled the room, and just like that, Specimen 37 was gone.

Beamed straight off our ship.

Along with half the engine room's power supply.

The comms flared back up, this time with Captain Ryker shouting. "Logan! We just lost half the power grid—what the hell is happening down there?!"

I opened my mouth, but before I could explain that our waste monster had just been abducted, Orla cut in from the bridge.

"The enemy ship is retreating." A pause. "They got what they wanted."

Silence hung in the air.

Benny swallowed. "So… you're telling me they sent a warship… to retrieve an aggressive sentient poop creature… and now they have it?"

I ran a hand down my face. "That is exactly what I'm telling you, Benny."

The comms clicked again. This time, Ryker sounded more tired than angry. "Logan. Get to the bridge. Now."

I sighed, tossing the useless containment unit onto the floor. "Coming."

As I turned to leave, Benny nudged me. "Uh… Logan?"

"What now?"

He pointed at the still-active security feed, where a single line of text blinked ominously.

Transmission received: RETURNING SOON.

Oh.

Oh, that's not good.