Interstellar travel isn't all it's cracked up to be. Granted, the company prepares you for the lack of showers, tasteless protein mush, and the long restless nights learning to sleep to the hum of the engine. What they don't prepare you for is the loneliness; the life of the rigger, hauling a junk bucket to every corner of nowhere. Least rigger sounds fancier than 'space garbageman'. I mean, I can't complain, without Galactic Ordinance 556, I wouldn't have a job, and times are rough.
With all the recent expansion and conflict, well, someone had to cleanup all that debris. Wouldn't do to have the blown up ships of a piddling territorial scuffle get pulled into the gravitational field of some unsuspecting colony. I'm saving lives!
Besides, life on the Müllarbeiter isn't so bad. Three square meals and an actual bed to sleep in is nothing to sneeze at. I just wish I had someone other than PEX311 to speak to. It's hard to connect with a droid that has all the personality of a tin can.
"What the hell is this?"
"I am sorry Hague, I do not compute the question."
"Call it a rhetorical question while i puzzle out the situation Pex."
"I am sorry Hague, I do not compute the question."
"Oh, go repair something." It's not fair to pick on the robot I know, but seven months in space with nothing but the rust bucket for company makes me miss living in the barracks something fierce, despite the constant back stabbing and smell of boiled cabbage. Pex puttered off to repair the constant wear and tear the Müllarbeiter incurs during junk runs, leaving me to ponder the clump of debris pulled in with our latest haul.
The clump was fuzzy.
The scanner beeped feebly, the cracked screen crackling as it fed me the readout. Well it wasn't plant matter or fungi. No registered toxins or bacteria. No lifesigns. A generally benign readout, though the scanner had no definitive answers either.
"Right." I tossed the useless hunk of tech aside and gingerly grabbed hold of the metal. "Let's crack her open, shall we?" Lesson #1: Space junk is full of surprises. It's a mantra they beat into us during training. That's why we scan everything before we poke at it. And I fulfilled that criterion. Maybe I should have worn gloves or something.
The 'fur' felt cold, not surprisingly since this pile of debris looked like it had been floating through space for some time. Possibly years. It's hard to tell with these garbage clusters. Without ships like the Müllarbeiter out here, scooping up the mess, it would just sit there until some poor bastard collided with it and it mucked up their hull. Told you, saving lives!
I paused as the fur shifted under my hand. No, no way. Just junk shifting around as I broke the lump apart. I pulled harder, straining as the lump started to come apart, revealing fibrous strands of some material that held the lump together.
"What the--"
The brilliant halogen lights of the hall filtered through the web of strands, illuminating a dense white mass inside. The mass was looking back at me. It blinked three sets of mismatched eyes.
I yelped and leapt back, tripping over another piece of debris because these sort of encounters demanded I put myself in as much peril as humanly possible. Scuttling back on my butt, I hit the far wall, hyperventilating as the lump shuddered.
"P-p-p-ex! I need you!" Where was that blasted droid when I needed it? I froze with a small keening sound as the lump collapsed on itself, ejecting a white furry ball that rolled free. A fur ball?
The ball came to a stop a few feet away, unfurling on its fuzzy white back to reveal a dozen spindly legs, jointed like some space pillbug, before the creature managed to flip itself over. The fur settled. My eye twitched. I found myself cornered by a space Pekinese. I must have made a sound as the furry creature turned to look at me. We stared at one another for what felt like hours. It was probably seconds. Those soulless, shiny black eyes peered into the dark recesses of my mind.
"Prrfff?' It chirped.
"What?" I yipped as it undulated toward me, my surviving instincts coming through as I froze like I've been ejected into freaking space without a helmet as the creature crawled right up my chest and snuffled at my face. "I promise I'll never fudge my haul records again."
I jerked at a feeling of wetness swiping across my chin as the creatures legs kneaded my chest before...it curled up and started purring. The urge to void my bladder slowly eased, nearly undone as Pex poked his head around the corner.
"You have need of my services Hague?"
I bit down on the shout, the creature grumbling softly and resettling on my chest. "I think I've been adopted."
"I'm sorry, I do not compute your request."
"Useless bucket of bolts."
***
Mr. Tibbles was quite cuddly for a deep space ferret bug. After managing to disentangle the creature from my lap without pissing myself, I retrieved the scanner. Whatever the ferret bug was, it blatantly refused to register as a life form on the scanner. I had several choice words with the scanner. Whatever, I count myself lucky it's friendly and tolerable of me and Pex, however, I have no idea how the little guy survived out there. Guy? Girl? Mr. Tibbles didn't do much the first 48 hours other than sleep in my lap in various adorable positions.
Ridiculously soft, softer than kittens, and clouds, and dandelion fluff, I can't stand it, I can't stop petting it. Judging by the purr, like a compact laser saw, Mr. Tibbles enjoyed the sensation. I guess floating in space for who knows how long exhausted him. This morning I woke to him rocking side to side on my chest, watching me sleep with those mismatched black eyes. Slightly creepy, but I gave it a pass after he 'prfed' a good morning and rolled free. Unfortunately, after thoroughly turning his nose up to the protein mush, not sure how I'm gonna feed Mr. Tibbles. The answer wasn't any clearer as he skittered along by my ankles, emitting little chirps and merps as I went through the morning routine.
"Morning Pex, what's the status on our latest haul?"
"I am sorry Hague, I do not compute the question."
"Do you ever say anything else?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful."
The crunch exploded into the closed space of the storage bay. I've never seen an android flinch before.
"What the hell?"
"I am sorry Hague, I do not compute the question."
"Oh shut up!"
I spun around, feeling my brows hit my hairline at the sight of Mr. Tibbles contentedly munching on a piece of scrap metal. "That is unexpected." To my horror, the beast opened its maw, much wider than its physiology suggested possible, revealing a veritable trash compactor of a mouth, chock full of teeth facing in a mish mash of directions. That mouth was a train wreck. It bit down on the hull plating, neatly taking away a massive chunk that it chewed with a shocking lack of noise, as if the fur was a muffler. Okay, I'm not proud, I stared at the ferret bug space goat eating my trash haul for several minutes before Pex politely coughed. I glared at the droid. I'm 70% sold on the idea the 'I am sorry Hague, I do not compute the question,' is some twisted AI sense of humor.
"Hague, are you not paid by the weight of your haul?"
"Shucks, Pex, I didn't think of that, why don't you go stop him?"
Pex went unusually silent even for him. After a long moment the droid turned to me. "Not for all the upgrades in the Omega Sector."
"I knew you were having me on, you defective data mining wank."
"What happens when it runs through the debris?"
Of course the droid would point out the obvious issue. "He'll probably go for the ship," I said, glumly watching Mr. Tibbles polishing off this morning haul. We would have to get rid of it before it turned that galactic disaster of a mouth on us. "I hope it eats you first." I stalked off grumbling. I didn't have a right to become attached to some random space monster after cuddling it for two days but dammit, the warmth, the companionship, it was something I didn't realized how much I craved. Badly.
How could I just jettison Mr. Tibbles out the docking bay? What would happen to him? Would he survive until the next unwitting ship picked him up? Should I make sure he had enough debris to cocoon himself in like before? If I managed to gather enough trash, maybe he wouldn't prove a risk to the ship...
"Prf."
The little bugger followed me to the pilot's seat, settling into my lap with that laser saw purr. Dammit, I couldn't bring myself to shove him out the closest air lock if I wanted to. I scratched the top of his head, trying to think of a solution when a violent explosion threw me and Mr. Tibbles out of the chair.
I hugged him to my chest, rolling onto to keep him from being flattened. In a panic, I managed to carefully dislodge him as I threw myself back at the controls. "Pex what happened?"
"Unless that infernal creature you've brought on board has turned its machinations onto the Müllarbeiter, it appears we are under attack, Hague."
"Smart ass rust bucket," I muttered. "Evasive maneuvers." Not that we had a choice. The Müllarbeiter was a trash collector, it had no weapons worth mention.
"I am sorry Hague, I do not compute the question."
"What do you mean we don't have evasive capabilities?"
"The blast has knocked out navigation and manual control."
My eyes widened. "A raid? But, we're a freaking trash can!"
"There are many valuable items in salvage, Hague."
I didn't have time to ponder over that nugget of wisdom from the resident droid when Mr. Tibbles trilled with alarm. I tensed, clutching at the pilot's seat a moment before another explosion rocked the ship, tearing a hole through the bridge's hull.
My yelp was torn from my throat as the air vented the cabin. A flash of white zipped by. To my horror, I watched Mr. Tibbles as he was sucked into space. So much for my internal moral dilemma. Honestly, I was furious. That was my ferret bug space goat those stupid pirates just sucked through the hull like a giant moldy noodle. Fighting tears, I managed to smack the breach sealant on the control panel, listening to the familiar icy crinkle of quick freeze iso metal plugging the hole. I fell to the floor as cabin pressure reasserted itself, gushing fresh oxygen into the room for my gasping lungs.
"Hague are you still there?" That almost sounded like a note of concern in Pex's modulated voice.
"I lost Mr. Tibbles."
"I am sorry Hague."
"Why haven't they fired on us again?"
"It appears Mr. Tibbles has latched onto their ship."
"What?!"
I clawed along the floor, hoisting myself into the pilot's seat as I smacked the viewscreen until it flickered to life.
"Wow."
Through the cracked sputtering viewscreen I could make out the supple tubular shape of Mr. Tibbles, magically scuttling along the hull of the attacking ship. I gasped as I recognized it, a Bothanian Raiding vessel. What the hell was one of those fugly buggers doing out this far? The Müllarbeiter was 'dead in the water' until Pex could get the junk bucket up and running. We were totally exposed, but a seed of hope took root as I watched Mr. Tibbles pause by the vessel's weapon system, explosive gas pods that had an unfortunate tendency to implode when breached. With a deep self satisfaction, I watched as he opened that maw wider than ever. I could imagine the screech of metal from here. The raiding vessel spasmed, rocked by internal explosions. It listed to the side before shattering to bits with little fanfare.
"Good space ferrett bug," I said with a grin.
"Opening the side hatch, Hague."
"What? Why?"
"If I do not, I am certain your detestable pet will chew through it."
I made my way on wobbly legs toward the hatch, meeting Mr. Tibbles halfway, catching him as he leapt for me. "Woah boy." Was it just me or did he weigh significantly more? Shrugging, I snuggled him close, stroking that silky soft fur as I showered him with compliments. Saving lives! He was meant for the Müllarbeiter.
Through the porthole I could see the remains of the Bothanian Raiding vessel spinning past. Waste not, want not, I suppose.
"Soon as we get up to snuff, let's scoop it up, Pex."
***
The ship rocked.
I sat up from my cot, hair stuck on end, still half asleep. "Whachamattzat?"
"Hague, are you there?"
"Are we bloody under attack again?" I shook myself, glancing around. Mr. Tibbles was notably absent. Crud. I'd hoped we'd come to an understanding with the voracious little dude not to eat the ship, though he was quite fond of glomping on Pex's head, which the android tolerated with a nervous resignation.
"No, Hague, we are not under attack."
Helpful, the dolt. With a disgusted sigh at Pex's monotone explanation, I staggered out into the hall, following the sound of laser saw purring until I found Mr. Tibbles curled up on the floor of the storage bay. Several feet from him was a solid dark mass that most definitely resembled--
"Is that poo?"
"I am afraid that is my conclusion sir."
"You got me out of bed for poo?"
"According to scanner, most of the metals have been digested out of it, leaving a reposit of incredibly dense carbon and a scattering of other organic elements."
I frowned at the lump. "This, this right here is what rocked the ship?"
"It is incredibly dense, Hague, and I believe, it will prove quite valuable at disposal weigh in."
I cocked my head at the droid, blinking in surprise. "Really?"
"I have calculated this small mass is the approximate equal weight of ten full hauls."
My jaw went slack. "Mr. Tibbles did that? Do you have any idea with this means, Pex?"
"Time for new upgrades."
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