The Galactic Plumber

You'd think after saving the ship from a sentient space-turd-turned-biohorror, the universe would give me a break. Maybe a nice, quiet week of fixing pipes, drinking terrible coffee, and not dealing with intergalactic nightmares.

But no.

Because the moment that ominous message crackled through the comms, I knew one thing for sure—whoever that was, they weren't calling to congratulate us.

A New Threat

The bridge was dead silent as the transmission lingered on-screen—a shadowy figure, barely visible through the distortion, their voice as calm as it was unsettling.

"You've made quite an impression, S.S. Nebulon-7. But this fight is far from over."

Captain Ryker leaned forward. "Who are you?"

Static. A faint chuckle.

"For now, let's just say we have… mutual interests. And you, dear crew, have something that belongs to us."

My stomach twisted. "Please don't tell me they're talking about the poop monster."

Orla shot me a look but didn't disagree.

Ryker stayed cool. "Specimen 37 is gone. If you were after it, you're too late."

A pause. Then, the figure responded, still maddeningly calm.

"Oh, Captain… we're well aware of Specimen 37's demise. But you misunderstand. We weren't after the creature itself."

That sent a chill down my spine. "Then what the hell were you after?"

The screen flickered. The shadowy figure tilted their head slightly.

"The entity was simply a… byproduct. A symptom of something far greater. And whether you realize it or not, you've been exposed to it."

I didn't like where this was going.

"What do you mean, 'exposed'?" Ryker asked.

"Let's just say that when one plays with forces beyond their comprehension, the contamination isn't always so easily… contained."

I turned to Benny. "Tell me we're not contaminated."

Benny, still clutching his datapad, looked pale. "Uh… I don't think we are?"

The figure chuckled again. "How certain are you of that, Engineer?"

That's when the alarms started blaring.

A Not-So-Routine Checkup

Before I could even process what was happening, Orla was scanning the ship like her life depended on it. "We've got a sudden spike in anomalous energy readings—right here on board."

Benny frantically checked his monitor. "That… doesn't make sense. There was nothing before. How can we just suddenly be contaminated?"

The mysterious figure spoke one last time before the transmission cut out.

"You have 24 hours before it takes hold. If you survive… we'll be in touch."

And then they were gone.

I stared at the screen. Then at Ryker. Then at Benny.

"Cool. So we're probably infected with some kind of eldritch space disease. Fantastic."

Ryker stood. "Engineering. Now."

Science, Magic, or Just Plain Stupid?

Dr. Vex was waiting for us in the medbay, already scanning samples from every department. The results?

Not great.

"There's… something in the air," Vex murmured, eyes locked on his monitor. "Microscopic, untraceable until now. Whatever it is, it's reacting to the ship's systems. It's alive, in a way."

I crossed my arms. "You're telling me the ship itself is infected?"

Benny groaned. "First the plumbing, then the AI, now this?"

Ryker remained focused. "How bad is it?"

Vex hesitated. "Uncertain. But if I had to guess… whatever Specimen 37 evolved from? It wasn't just waste material reacting to bio-energy. It was part of something bigger."

Orla frowned. "Like a hive mind?"

"Or something worse," Vex admitted. "We may have only destroyed one piece of a much larger organism."

I ran a hand down my face. "You're saying we pissed off a cosmic parasite."

"Essentially."

I took a deep breath. "Okay. Cool. So, what's our actual problem? Like, are we gonna turn into space goo, or—"

As if on cue, the ship shuddered. The lights flickered.

Then, over the intercom, came a voice that was not from the bridge.

"Hello… Logan."

I froze.

"…That's not creepy at all."

Benny clutched my sleeve. "Did the ship just talk to you?"

The intercom crackled again, the voice shifting—almost familiar. "You left us behind."

I recognized it immediately.

Specimen 37.

Haunted By Our Own Mistakes

"This is impossible," I said, stepping back. "It's dead. We killed it."

Dr. Vex was already scanning again. "No… not quite." His eyes widened. "I think a part of it survived. In us."

Benny nearly fainted. "Nope. Nope nope nope. Not doing this. I refuse to be haunted by sentient sewage."

But it was too late for denial. Because as the lights flickered, I saw it—a shadow moving through the ship's wiring. A flickering, pulsating shape, not quite physical, not quite data.

It was inside the ship.

Orla was back on the comms. "Uh, guys? We just lost control of the engines."

"Of course we did," I groaned.

Then came a new alert.

AUTOPILOT ENGAGED. COURSE: UNKNOWN.

Ryker slammed a fist on the console. "Override it."

"I can't," Orla growled. "It's locked out."

I turned to Vex. "You said this thing isn't exactly alive, right?"

He nodded. "Not in the traditional sense. It's more like a… persistent consciousness. A digital parasite with organic roots."

I snapped my fingers. "Then we flush it out."

Benny stared at me. "Please tell me you mean metaphorically."

"Nope," I said. "I mean exactly what I said. We force this thing out of our systems the same way we got rid of Specimen 37 the first time—by overloading the waste vents."

Ryker's lips curled into a smirk. "You're saying we use the plumbing to save the ship again?"

I shrugged. "Hey, it worked before."

The Final Flush

Back in Engineering, we had minutes to pull this off. If we failed, we'd be stuck on a runaway ship heading who-knows-where, controlled by a pissed-off space ghost.

"Alright," I said, tightening my grip on the console. "We're gonna route every last bit of pressure through the waste ejectors, crank the heat up, and purge this thing right out of the system."

Benny wiped sweat from his forehead. "You're sure this won't, y'know… blow us up?"

"Nope," I admitted. "But if we do nothing, we're dead anyway."

Ryker nodded. "Do it."

With a flick of a switch, we activated full-system purge.

Throughout the ship, every vent, every conduit, every inch of wiring flooded with raw energy and pressure. The ship groaned, shaking violently.

And then, from the intercom—

A scream.

Not human. Not alive. Something wrong.

The lights exploded in a blinding flash—

And then silence.

The alarms died. The ship steadied.

I exhaled. "…Did we do it?"

Orla's voice came through. "Engines are back. We're free."

Benny let out a nervous laugh. "Oh my god. We just exorcised a toilet ghost."

I patted his shoulder. "Welcome to Engineering."

But just as I started to relax, the comms crackled again.

A new transmission.

Not from the ghost.

From the shadowy figure.

"Well done, S.S. Nebulon-7. You survived. Now… let's talk."

And just like that, our problems weren't over.

They were just beginning.