The Galactic Plumber

"Hunger Comes"

I have seen some things.

I've battled a sentient poop monster, waded through sewage tsunamis, and narrowly avoided melting into molecular goo thanks to plasma destabilization rounds.

But this?

This was a whole new level of "nope."

The storm churned, thick green mist swirling like something alive. And from within it, something massive moved—its silhouette shifting, twisting, wrong in every way possible.

The charred figures standing before us didn't move. They just watched, their eerie blue eyes locked on Specimen 37.

And then, in unison, they spoke.

"Hunger comes."

I swallowed. "Yeah, see, that? That's not something I ever wanna hear."

Benny whimpered. "Can we get back on the ship now?"

Orla, for once, agreed. "Seconded."

Ryker, however, was laser-focused on the figures. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The closest one stepped forward.

The glow of its eyes flickered, its burnt-black skin cracking with each movement.

"The Keepers."

I glanced at Benny. "Yeah, that means nothing to me."

Benny, for once, looked just as confused. "It's not in any database I know."

But before we could question them further, the storm howled—the thing inside it shifting closer.

And Specimen 37?

It collapsed.

A gurgling, wet groan escaped it as its entire form trembled, tendrils of sludge curling inward like it was in pain.

Then it did something that honestly terrified me.

It reached for my leg.

I barely stopped myself from kicking it across the ground.

But the desperation in its movements made me pause.

It was scared.

And if the poop monster was scared, that meant we were completely screwed.

"We Must Leave."

The storm thickened, and suddenly, I felt a shift in the air.

Like something had just opened its eyes.

The Keepers moved for the first time, taking a synchronized step back.

One of them raised a hand—a warning.

"We must leave."

The ground shook violently.

A deep, wet inhaling sound echoed through the mist, like the entire world was taking a breath.

Benny made a noise that was both a scream and a whimper. "I don't like that!"

I grabbed Specimen 37 and hoisted it up. "Great! We're leaving!"

But as I turned, the mist exploded outward.

A shadow loomed.

Something stepped out.

The Hunger

It was massive.

A shape that wasn't fully real, its form shifting like it was between dimensions.

Long, jagged limbs twisted outward, its body covered in hundreds of hollow, shrieking mouths that pulsed and gasped hungrily.

And at its center—

A single, glowing, bottomless void where a face should be.

It spoke.

But not in words.

No, this was something deeper, older, more primal.

A sound that burrowed into my brain, scraping against something that was never meant to be touched.

I stumbled back, my mind screaming, legs barely working.

Benny was on the ground, clutching his head. Orla had drawn her weapon, but her hands were shaking.

Even Ryker—who I had once seen punch a pirate captain unconscious for fun— looked like he was about to vomit.

The Keepers?

They knelt.

And they whispered in unison:

"The Hunger is awake."

Specimen 37 let out a horrible, warbling screech.

The Hunger lunged.

Run.

We bolted.

I grabbed Benny and dragged him toward the ship.

The Hunger's tendrils lashed out, slamming into the ground where we had just been standing, shattering the earth like glass.

Orla fired her weapon.

The energy blast hit—and passed straight through.

Oh, good. It ignores physics.

We stumbled up the ramp, the ship's alarms blaring as Ryker slammed the emergency lockdown.

The doors sealed.

For a second—just one horrible second—I thought we were safe.

Then the ship lurched.

And the walls started to buckle inward.

"It Wants Inside."

"LOGAN!" Orla shrieked.

I didn't need to be told. I was already scrambling toward the engine room.

Because if we didn't take off in the next thirty seconds?

The Hunger was going to eat us.

The hull screamed, metal warping as something massive pressed against it.

Benny clutched his head. "It's—it's not just breaking the ship, it's—"

He stopped, his eyes going wide with horror.

"Logan. It wants inside."

I had no idea what that meant, but judging by the way Specimen 37 was screeching like a banshee, I didn't want to find out.

"GET US OFF THE GROUND!" I bellowed.

Orla's voice crackled through the ship. "Engines are fried! We need more power!"

I slammed the controls, rerouting everything we had left into the thrusters.

The ship whined.

Struggled.

Then—

With a deafening roar—

We launched.

We Escaped. But Not Really.

The ship tore through the storm, engines burning hotter than I'd ever pushed them.

The moment we broke into orbit, the pressure vanished.

The Hunger didn't follow.

It just… stood there. Watching.

Waiting.

I exhaled, sinking into my seat. "Okay. We're alive. That's the good news."

Benny was still shaking. "And the bad news?"

I turned to Specimen 37.

It was shaking, oozing, and then, in a wet, whispering voice—

It said the worst possible thing.

"It is inside."

I froze.

"...What?"

And then the lights went out.

TO BE CONTINUED...