This story contains violence, strong language, themes of slavery and animal abuse, and character death. Reader discretion is advised.
The crewmates and impostors ("Beans") are their own species. Imagine them as 3 foot tall, little furry things with paws. What looks like a visor is their eye. The full details should be revealed as the story progresses.
Twelve little Beans gathered around the main cafeteria in the Skeld. Some, like Engineer and the Gentleman, were attentive, while others zoned out. Player belonged in the second category. He rested his head in one paw and watched space float by out the Skeld's windows. He barely gave any mind to Captain's announcement.
"Why do we need an emergency meeting?" Stoner complained. "We've been to Polus before, man...no need to lecture us on it. Plus, it's cutting into my nap time. I'm missing out on some major z's."
"You green goofball!" the white bean exclaimed. "You weren't paying attention to the bulletin from MIRA, were you? We're not going to Polus. We're going to Marcellus. That's a totally different planet, last time I checked. Now granted, their names are similar and I have gotten them mixed up before--"
"This isn't one of those times, is it?" Mother asked, very worried.
"No," Captain said, drawing out the word. "This trip will take a little longer than a normal Polus trip, so get comfy. But not too comfy. Because, as you can probably guess--"
"There are two imposters among us?" Bro asked in a very sour tone.
"Bingo, baby. MIRA just sent me the warning bulletin." He waved his tablet around in front of everyone, showing them the blazing red warning screen. "So we need to either finish our tasks and get the ship to primo condition, or we ferret out the impostors...Or we die. That's a possibility too."
"Captain!" Mother blurted, holding Timmy and Franklin close. "Not in front of the children."
"It's the facts, lady," Captain retorted, which quickly led into an argument between the two. Player rolled his eye. He turned to Veteran, who watched the verbal skirmish with interest.
"They're really going at it," Veteran commented.
"Why do they always have to be like this?" complained Player. "It can never be a simple mission. I thought traveling in space was supposed to be fun."
"Fun? Maybe sometimes," Veteran said. "But not always. We're in deep space. In a big galaxy full of planets that can be hostile and dangerous. We might have to make an emergency landing on a planet with a world war going on. Who knows!"
"Well, okay, but that sounds like a worst-case scenario."
"I'm just saying. You should be prepared. And because we're in space, with nobody else around, you gotta learn to work with your crew. They're our friends!"
"I'd get more done working alone, honestly," Player said impulsively.
"Dude, you don't mean that."
"Whatever." Player rested his head on his paws. By now, Captain and Mother had stopped squabbling.
"Okay, gang," the white bean said, smoothing his fur. "Until we figure out who the impostors are, let's just do our tasks and get them over with. Check your tablets to find out what you have."
Crewmates filed out of the Cafeteria, looking at the tasks on their tablets. Mr. Cheese and the Gentleman left together, with Gnome and Engineer going off in pairs too. Ninja exited as steathily as he arrived, with Bro looking for him. Captain remained at the table with Stoner. Goober and Mother wandered off together, chatting. Veteran gave Player a peace-out sign and left, muttering about how he hated the Start Reactor task. Player checked his tablet. He had a few things he needed to do in Electrical...the most dangerous room on the ship.
"Of course," he muttered, and off he went to fix wiring and calibrate a finicky distributor. He walked into the dimly lit room, all the way to the back wall where his tasks waited. He opened a plate on the wall and started fusing wires back together, being careful not to touch the live ends. With the bout of wires in Electrical fixed, he also needed to repair some in Security, one room up. Player figured that if he staggered his visits to Electrical, it would pose less of a risk of an Impostor attack than if he lingered there for a while. At least, it made sense to him.
After passing through the noisy Lower Engine room, he leaned in to Security and opened the wire plate. While piecing wire to wire, an emergency bulletin from Captain made his tablet buzz.
"Emergency meeting," it said.
Which wouldn't have been out of routine -- they usually got called a few times a mission, for reasons of varying importance. Except that this one had a second part to the message.
"--Report to Navigation."
Player double-checked to make sure he read that correctly. Why Navigation? Curiously, he started the long walk from Security all the way to Navigation. Reaching it, he peeked in to see the small-ish room filled with Captain, the Gentleman, and Mr. Cheese. All three of them huddled together by the windows. Player approached them.
"Hey guys," he said. "What's up?"
"We've got a situation," Captain explained, tapping the digital map on the navigation console. "Something's approaching us, but I don't know what it is."
On the map, three red dots inched closer to the symbol indicating the Skeld. Captain squinted at them. Warily, he motioned to the Gentleman, who watched him over his shoulder.
"Top hat man. Keep watching the map. I'm going to Communications."
The white Bean jumped out of the seat and started to walk away.
"Just a tick," the Gentleman said before he could leave. "Whatever for? You're the Captain -- shouldn't you stay here and navigate?"
"No, 'cause I'll need to talk to them," Captain answered. "I'm the only one on this ship who speaks Standard Galactic. If any of you try talking to them, all they'll hear is squeaking and chattering. Cute noises, but no good if you're asking them to state their business."
He left the room, clomping down the hall toward Comms. The Gentleman slipped into the chair before the map; Mr. Cheese took a seat next to him. The red dots indicating the inbound craft had drawn much closer during this exchange. Now, glancing up, the Beans in Navigation could faintly see the ships approaching. Not very well, though -- they were just silver blips, almost indistinguishable from the stars.
The Gentleman's tablet vibrated, pulling everyone's attention. To their dismay, it displayed an urgent message from Captain:
"HOSTILE CRAFT INBOUND. BATTLE POSITIONS."
"You heard our leader," the Gentleman barked. "I need people in Weapons. We might have to do some defencive firing."
"I can do that!" Player volunteered. "I'm a pretty good shot with clearing asteroids."
"Bloody good. Off you go."
"Yes, sir!" Player scuttled away for Weapons, surprised at this suddenly competent and serious Gentleman. He hurried to the Weapons room and jumped into the seat for the laser guns. The projection screen came up, not to shoot down asteroids this time, but to protect the ship. He swung the control console around, trying to take aim at the incoming enemy ships.
"Gotcha." He locked onto the target, then squeezed the triggers to start firing. And just in time, because the enemy ships started to shoot at the Skeld. Player twisted and maneuvered the console with gusto, intercepting all the shots with the Skeld's own lasers. Bolts of red and yellow lightning jumped between the attacking parties.
In a way, Player was glad for the neutralized firefight, because he didn't really want to shoot at the incoming ships. Blasting apart asteroids was a different thing entirely -- they were just lifeless rocks that endangered the Skeld's hull. But to shoot at, and possibly destroy, living things? Even if they were hostile, Player wasn't really keen on the thought. He sighed and told himself that he had to do it, to protect his fellow crewmates.
He squeezed the triggers on the console again, sending arcs of lightning at the Skeld's attackers. One of the smaller ships took the brunt of the blow. Apparently, it lacked a shield layer like the Skeld, so it didn't handle the blast very well. The front end of the ship appeared to crumple like a crashed car, before it collapsed in a violent (but silent; there's no sound in space) explosion. Player shielded his eye from the wash of light. He took a second, wide-eyed, as he realized he took down an enemy ship on his own. Not too bad.
He took a few clearance shots to cut down the size of the wreckage from the destroyed craft, as a force of habit. Wouldn't want any chunks of it ripping through the Skeld's shields. While he was clearing the rubble, the two surviving ships came back for revenge. Unlike the Skeld, a modern MIRA marvel, both looked either several years out of date or patched together from other craft. Player supposed these were the ships of space scavengers, or maybe insurgents from a war-torn planet. Despite their structural weakness, they were armed to the teeth with laser guns, shanks, and other weapons. The smaller one fired at the Skeld with gusto, creating a near-constant stream of yellow lightning. Player was so occupied with intercepting its blasts that he didn't notice the larger craft dip out of sight.
Not until the Skeld rocked like a boat in a storm. The force almost threw Player from his seat. He banged his head against the Weapons console, stunning him for a couple seconds. While he was down, the enemy craft scored several hits on the Skeld, damaging its shield layer to threadbare levels.
"What was that?" he asked no-one in particular, but got his answer from Captain's emergency post.
"DANGER! Enemy rammed the Skeld from below!"
Gnome managed to send a reply message: "We've sustained damage to the ship's lower level! Can't access Barracks or Secondary Storage!"
"Shit!" Player exclaimed, grasping the console. He fired a few more frantic shots at the still-attacking smaller craft, but then one well-placed blast from its guns took out the Skeld's laser. His firing screen blinked off. He torqued the triggers, but nothing happened.
"Oh, God!" Player jumped from his seat and ran from Weapons. The Skeld shook again as the enemy barge made another ramming attack. It knocked him off his feet, and he fell to the floor. An alarm blared throughout the Skeld, and the emergency lights flashed red. It was like a reactor or oxygen sabotage, but somehow even worse.
"HULL BREACHED!" his tablet screamed.
"Enemy has entered the Skeld!" Captain's panicked announcement warned. "Report to Cafeteria for a critical meeting."
Player doubted the wisdom of that plan, but didn't know how else to respond to this situation. He staggered to his feet and stumbled on his way to the Cafeteria. The steel doors slid open for him, revealing the rest of the crew huddled in the spacious room. He hurried over to them. But then he had to freeze where he stood.
Because, standing over his friends and teammates, were their attackers. In the flesh.