The Galactic Plumber

"The Ship Hungers"

I have officially hit my limit.

I've seen a lot of disgusting things in my career.

I once had to unclog a sewage line that was so backed up, the resulting pressure shot me across the room like a human torpedo.

I have personally battled a toilet abomination with nothing but a wrench and a deep sense of regret.

But this?

This was worse.

Much worse.

Engineering Was Alive.

The walls moved as if they were breathing.

The black, oily veins pulsed, stretching across the floor like rotting muscle tissue.

And at the center of it all?

The thing that used to be our main control terminal.

A mass of twisting tendrils, slick with something wet and wrong, had fused itself into the console. It had eyes. So many eyes, blinking in and out of existence like they couldn't decide if they belonged there.

And mouths.

Too many mouths.

Some whispered. Some hummed a broken tune. Others just... watched.

Then, in a voice that did not belong to my ship, it whispered—

"You brought me home."

I froze.

Benny made a sound that can only be described as 'pathetic whimpering.'

Orla aimed her plasma pistol at the thing's center mass, her stance rigid but controlled.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, voice even.

Specimen 37 trembled at my feet. Its gelatinous body pulsed, shifting through colors I couldn't name.

It whispered one word.

"Hunger."

A cold, slimy dread curled up my spine.

I knew that word.

We all did.

Because The Hunger was supposed to be outside the ship.

Not inside.

But that thing—the thing in the console—

It wasn't outside anymore.

"Step Away From the Console."

Orla's voice snapped me out of my horror coma.

She didn't hesitate. She just pulled the trigger.

A bright plasma bolt shot straight into the mass of writhing flesh—

And vanished.

No impact. No explosion.

It just... absorbed it.

The thing quivered, like it was shuddering in pleasure.

Then, one of its mouths opened.

And it screamed.

The walls convulsed.

The floor lurched.

Suddenly, my stomach twisted, like the ship had been yanked into a different dimension.

I barely had time to think before the pipes burst above us—

And something crawled out.

Oh, Hell No.

I hate parasites.

Hate them.

Nothing good has ever come from a thing that crawls out of another thing.

And yet—

From the open pipes, dripping with thick black sludge, they came.

At first, they looked like rats.

Then I realized they had too many legs.

And too many teeth.

"OPEN FIRE!" Orla roared.

Her plasma pistol lit up the room.

Benny?

Benny screamed like a dying squirrel and flailed wildly.

(He was not helpful.)

I grabbed the nearest industrial wrench and swung as hard as I could—

SPLAT.

The creature's body burst, spraying something thick and burning across my jumpsuit.

"Oh, that's not coming out," I groaned.

Specimen 37 lashed out, its tendrils grabbing another parasite and crushing it.

For once, I was glad the poop monster was on my side.

But the things kept coming.

Scuttling from the walls, the vents, the ceiling.

The ship shook again.

And the thing in the console... laughed.

"We Need A Plan!"

I swung again, smashing another skittering nightmare into paste.

"We need a plan!" I yelled, dodging another one of those toothy bastards.

Benny was backed into a corner, flailing wildly. "THE PLAN IS 'DIE HORRIBLY!'"

"Not a fan of that one, Benny!"

Orla, ever the unshakable soldier, didn't stop firing. "We need to cut power to the AI!"

Oh.

Oh, that was a good plan.

Except—

"The controls are fused into THAT!" I jabbed a finger at the flesh horror in the console.

Orla gritted her teeth. "Then we pry it out."

Benny made a high-pitched choking sound. "You want to... touch it?"

"I'll do it," I said.

Both of them stared at me.

"Logan," Orla said slowly, "you're an engineer. Not a soldier."

"I'm the Galactic Plumber," I corrected. "And this? This is a plumbing issue."

Benny's eye twitched. "HOW IS THIS A PLUMBING ISSUE?!"

I ignored him, grabbed my heaviest wrench, and took a deep breath.

Then I charged.

The Worst Decision Of My Life

The second I got close, the thing in the console shuddered.

It turned to look at me.

Every single eye.

"I wouldn't do that," it whispered.

I swung my wrench anyway.

SPLAT.

The console hissed.

The mass lurched, reeling back—

And then, I saw it.

Beneath the writhing tendrils, beneath the mucus-drenched flesh, there was metal.

The original AI core.

And if I could reach it...

I lunged.

The tendrils wrapped around my arms, my legs, my chest.

My skin burned.

But I grabbed the core.

And yanked.

Everything went white.