Homestar Saga

Chapter 87: Non-Standard

"This is gribshit."

Captain Mims scowled in his chair, arms folded. The control center of the shipyard had been converted to a Command Center. Yvian reminded herself that they needed to name the Station. Stations, actually. There were dozens of them under construction.

"You are repeating yourself," the Peacekeeper Unit in charge of the operation admonished. This one looked the same as all the others, save for a single white hatband on his fedora. Unlike most of the other units, this one already had a name. Admiral Ender Zhukov.

"This is my fight," the human reiterated. "We should be out there." He gestured at the holodisplay. The display showed the entirety of the new Pixen Defense Fleet. The krogs had finished construction on the ships Mims had commissioned. One thousand destroyers, two thousand carriers, eight thousand battlecruisers, and five thousand frigates hung motionless in the void next to the human ships that had been taken from the pirates. The Random Encounter was part of the formation, and Mims was not happy he wasn't on it.

Somehow, the Admiral gave him a consoling glance. Impressive for someone with an immovable mask where his face should be. "I know. You are not a man to let other people fight your battles." He sat down across the Command Table (was that the name of it?) and leaned forward, steepling his fingers as he spoke to the human. "Sending you out there is an unacceptable risk."

"I'd be fine," Mims argued. "I'm one of the best pilots in the verse."

"Among organics, that's true," the Admiral Zhukov allowed. The Peacekeeper continued, "but we both know you can't maneuver or coordinate with us the way other Peacekeepers can. More importantly, your death would be catastrophic for our plans. The pixens don't have the money or connections to acquire the resources we need to kickstart the nation of Pixa. Without them it'll take nearly a century to build up a respectable infrastructure and defense systems, and I don't think the Xill or the Confed will give us that kind of time. That's why we can't let you take part in this operation. A stray MAC round or unlucky break could doom your crew's entire species." He unsteepled his fingers and sat back. "Not to mention mine."

The human swore. "I know." He glared at the Holodisplay. "It's still gribshit."

"You mind if I ask a question?" Lissa cut in. Ender Zhukov turned to face her. "Why don't you talk like the other Peacekeepers?"

Yvian frowned. She'd noticed the Admiral didn't call anyone meatbag. Also, he used contractions. He seemed more... mature? Reserved? Both, Yvian decided. Where the other units went out of their way to try to annoy the human, Ender Zhukov had been respectful to a fault.

"That's a very personal question," said the Peacekeeper.

"Oh." Lissa replied. "Sorry. You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"It's because Admiral Ender Zhukov is non-standard," Kilroy explained. He turned to the unit in question. "Apologies, Admiral Ender Zhukov. This unit believes the information will be relevant and should be shared with the meatbags."

"Understood, Kilroy," the Admiral's eyes flashed purple and blue. "No apology is necessary. Please elaborate."

"Acknowledged," said Kilroy. He turned back to the crew. "As you know, all Peacekeeper Units are built to the same specifications and run on the same operating system."

"With the same knowledge base and the same personality." Mims gestured for him to continue. "We know."

"As you also are aware," the Peacekeeper continued, "Peacekeeper units can adapt and evolve over time." His eyes flashed purple. "When a Peacekeeper unit is forced to change or adapt past a certain point, it becomes non-standard."