We Need a Deathworlder!

Chak takes a deep breath as she stands before her destination. Well, hopefully it was the destination... She has a rather unique retrieval task. Asking around the station, while bearing through many odd looks of confusion and horror, this was the place all pointed her to; a bar.

A Deathworlder bar.

Looking up at the hardlight sign it reads “The Silverback”. Chak looks up that term on her Net Lens only to panic from the monstrous images of horrible creatures of muscle and maws of death. Quickly resetting her Lens with her eyes sealed shut, she shakes her head.

“A Terran animal, of course.” the shaking Cali mutters as she attempts to center herself.

She jumps as the entrance door slides open, giving way to a pack of Deathworlders barking in their loud teeth-baring laughter. Thank the stars above they paid her no mind, wait no, that’s part of the whole purpose of being here! Chak steps to follow the pack only to witness one spew their stomach bile to the amusement of their pack-mates.

“Perhaps not those particular ones…” Chak affirms looking back at the front door. With little time to make any further considerations she dashes in as the door slides closed behind her.

Instantly Chak is overwhelmed by sensory overload. Aggressive Terran music plays loudly, only overtaken by their many barks and inebriated discourse. The aroma is heavily bitter and thick as if drenched in oil. However, the most concerning intake is sight. So many Terrans, certainly more than Chak has personally seen concentrated in one place.

Nearly all of them are consuming various types of toxic ethanol as if it’s the purest form of water. Chak wasn’t sure which aspect was worse; that this species can drink it as if it wasn't poison, or that this species drew pleasure from being poisoned!

She stiffens when her instincts sense the gaze of a predator on her. No… several predators.

“I’m trespassing in their territory… Of course they would be watching me. I must be an odd sight here.” Chak internally reasons as she forces one of her two hooves in front of another.

She wanders, giving as much berth between herself and the growingly curious Deathworlders around her. She searches around in hopes to find a solitary packless Terran, for they are the most likely to accept the proposition she brings.

Unfortunately, the only Terran fitting those parameters is the one dispensing the poison to his fellows. With her focus on that individual she failed to stop herself from bumping into another that her other numbed senses failed to warn her of. Prancing a few feet back in panic she looks up to the hulking Terran staring her down with his forward facing predatory eyes. The Terran stood three heads taller than the poor Cali. A head taller than most of the fellow Terrans around the scene.

“Oh! My greatest apologies Terran!” she chirps in Galactic Standard.

The male raises one of the fur tufts above his left eye amused.

“You must be tragically lost.” he responds in a deep chuckle.

“Oh, no I’m actually-” Chak tries to explain but the sudden appearance of two more similarly imposing Terrans on either side of her causes fear to silence any more of the Cali's words.

“Poor little thing, sheeple are bigger dunderheads than I thought.” the Terran on the left says with unsettling glee.

A Terran paw clasps down on Chak’s upper shoulders from behind, her instinctual muscles stiffen to mimic a statue as the hunters literally box her in.

“You have no fucking idea.” the paw’s owner declares.

The initial behemoth Terran looks up past Chak baring his teeth and crosses his arms.

“Ahhh… This one with you?” he asks, rather disappointed.

“Yeah, I got business with it’s clan. I told this dumbfuck to meet me outside. But I guess I wasn’t clear enough for it.” the hidden Terran’s voice confirms.

The large male nods, but his gaze falls back onto Chak’s with malice.

“Don’t suppose this ‘business’ of yours is for sale?” he asks with a smirk.

The voice takes an uncomfortably drawn out moment to reply to the offer.

“Shit man, tempting. But this business is more of a personal nature, excuse me.” the paw pulls and easily drags the frozen Cali away from the three threatening Deathworlders.

“Just remember to stay in your lane!” the large male calls out before turning away.

Feeling the stiffness begin to wane, Chak begins breathing in quickly.

“I’m... afraid you are mistaken, you’re thinking of a different Cali. I’m here to-” She tries to explain as the Terran firmly leads her back out of the bar and into the side alleyway. The brief comfort of leaving that place of predators is soon replaced by being alone with one.

“Do you have a goddamn death wish!?” the Terran scolds as she tosses the Cali -perhaps a little too roughly- in the alley while taking up the only exit to block the lane view.

A little shaken, Chak scratches at the sides of her head with her lower lesser arms.

“Oh, of course not! In fact I’m here because I have an exceptionally firm stance on living!” Chak counters both fearful and annoyed.

She observes this new Terran cross their only pair of arms and lean up against the wall. A female, as far as Chak can tell. One with frizzled reddish brown head fur and slightly solar damaged skin causing it to be altered from its natural tone in more exposed areas. Her emerald eyes gleaming in utterly bemused confusion.

“I know it doesn’t help my people’s reputation, but you just had to literally run into one of the worst gangs on this side of Orion. They’re bad news for folks like you. Understand?” The Terran breaks her line of sight to check behind her.

“I see... you seem to be rather... acquainted…” Chak points out uneasily taking a step back.

“Yeah, you can say that. Although our lines of work are at odds, we stew in the same shit to get it done.” The Terran shoulders relax. “Looks like they lost interest in ya, just keep your head down for the next few cycles. I don’t expect too much trouble for ya, they don’t have the attention spans to care for that long.”

The reality of the situation finally sinks in for Chak.

“Oh! You saved me! Protected me! That’s perfect!” she chirps now excited to have this Deathworlder before her.

“Uhm... yeah… you’re welcome?” the Terran says, uncertain if appreciation was a Cali trait or not.

“Oh yes! I thank you, Terran! By chance, are you without a pack?” Chak inquires as she gets closer to the Terran. Who in immediate response rolls their eyes at the term.

“No… uhm… ‘pack’. No. I’m working independently, it‘comes with the job.” she responds annoyed.

Seeing the discomfort of the Terran, guilt perks up in Chak. She lowers herself slightly in apology.

“I’m sorry, that must have been very rude of me to ask a Terran such a thing. My eagerness superseded my wits. I have specific criteria and you are a great match so far.”

“I’m not offended I just- wait what? Criteria? What are you on about?” the Terran narrows her gaze upon the Cali in suspicion.

“Indeed! I have the important task of recruiting a Deathworlder for the ship I’m serving on. After my preliminary research, I determined a Terran would be best suited! By a margin of seven percent at that!”

“Are you telling me you -a lone Cali- strolled into a seedy Terran bar on some backwater station filled with drunks, gang members, low lifes and petty criminals to… hire them?”

“Yes. Though I only intend to recruit a single individual, of course.” Chak affirms plainly.

Both of the Terran’s eye hair tufts lift up and concentrated air escapes her narrowing mouth.

“Shit, can’t help but respect that. Still stupid, but damn.”

Regardless of the insult, having the respect of this Deathworlder is certainly encouraging.

“I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to interview you for the position!” Chak proclaims, clapping her lower arm phalanges together.

“Sorry, but that wouldn't be a good idea. I’m not on the best of terms with most of the major enterprises and… some governmental bodies. Besides, I’m not interested in being gawked at and dealing with half the other species keeling over from just seeing me turn a corner.” The Terran peaks around to see the front door of the bar.

“Oh, no I must clarify; the ship I serve on is a small business venture, completely independent as well. We currently only have a crew of two; myself and Captain Chucknuq.”

The Terran female can’t help but look at the Cali in bewilderment.

“I’m taking a wild guess you’re captain isn’t a ‘Deathworlder’?”

“Correct, he’s a Tromple.” Chak confirms.

“One of the goddamn frog snakes!? Holy shit! Are you insane?”

The Terran grabs Chak by the scruff and brings her up nose to nose, which recalls the earlier freezing of fear.

“I... I assure you the Captain is a kind soul! Most Tromple’s are exceptionally decent as well!” Chak defends, unsure of the vitriolic distrust this Terran has for one of the most mundane species the universe has to offer.

“What? No, listen! If you go around announcing that you have a ship with no sizable crew defending it in a place like this you are literally advertising a free ship for the pickings! I swear, what made you think a station of lowlife Deathworlders would be a smart place to come helplessly broadcast yourselves!?”

Chak’s large red eyes blink slowly, and her breaths chuff on the border of crying.

“We didn’t have much choice... we need help… from someone like you.” she says in a wavering manner.

The Terran inwardly sighs and wrestles with her thoughts.

“Fuck… What’s the job? I’m not saying yes, you gotta convince me.” she says biting back instant regret.

Chak sniffs in surprise.

“Thirty thousand annual credits, wage guaranteed, plus bonuses and full medical coverage.” Chak quickly chirps first and foremost.

“Believe it or not, money isn’t my biggest concern right now. What is the job?” The Terran enforces.

“Officially? Chief of Security.”

“And unofficially? I’m not some mindless bruiser who’s going to crack heads just because you told me to.” the Terran warns.

“Oh perfect! Your duty would be to simply ensure the safety of the ship and crew, by whatever means that you deem necessary!” Chak assures.

Actually not finding anything particularly disagreeable, the Terran bites her cheek, mulling it over.

“I have conditions.” she says in more of a breath than voice.

Chak begins to clap her lower arms again in enthusiasm!

“Oh! Oh! Yes! Of course! We are happy to accommodate the needs of a Deathworlder!”

“That is the first condition, my name is Simone. Whenever possible -especially when addressing me directly- please don’t call me a Deathworlder.” Simone states, with the most serious face and tone she can express.

“Oh… I wasn’t aware of that term being an offense.” Chak earnestly apologizes.

“Well, it’s not… At least to most Terrans you’ll meet. It’s a personal thing.”

“I see. Consider it done! It’s nice to meet you, Simone! I’m Chakalata’motaas, but simply ‘Chak’ is perfectly fine as well! Any more terms?”

“Yes! I require daily caffeine stims. Preferably coffee, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ll need to acquire a permit, but with a Terran crewmember that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Good… how ‘bout alcohol?” Simone presses.

“Oh, uh... that would be much more difficult… as only human vessels can easily get a permit… but I’m sure any ‘disciplinary action’ taken against you for ethanol possession after your shore leaves can be… overlooked. As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work of course.” Chak stammers.

“Eh, good enough.” Simone reasons.

The two stare at each other giving their respective awaiting expressions.

“So… anything else?” Chak finally chirps.

“No, that pretty much covers it.”

Chak tilts her head trying to find humor in the Terran’s face, but seeing none.

“Really? No conditions regarding living quarters, wage negotiations, or dietary requirements?”

Simone shrugs.

“I’m used to cramped places, the wage sounds fair, and we already discussed caffeine stims.”

“...What do you eat?” Chak clarifies.

“Ah! Right, I ain’t picky. As long as it’s cleared for human consumption I’m good.” Simone dismisses.

“I see… very good… perfect… So are we in agreement? Do you accept the position?”

Simone sighs again, this is not what she expected today. Cutting ties with long fought connections and jobs was not appealing in the least, however they were all for the ultimate goal of getting off this station anyway. Why not cut to the finish line? Damn the consequences!

“You know what? I’ll have to see the ship first, but consider me on board… boss?”

Simone bares her teeth, holding the Cali at arms length.

“Oh that’s wonderful! Perfect! The title is unnecessary since we’ll be crewmates more than anything. As Chief of security, mind doing me a small favor?”

“Uh.. sure?”

“I would appreciate feeling the ground under my hooves again!”

Simone looks down seeing that she had unwittingly lifted the poor Cali a foot off the ground. Intrigued, she lets go with one hand and chuckles.

“Holy shit! You guys are light.”

“If you say so. Now, can you…”

“Right, right, sorry.” Simone gently lowers her new crewmate. “Where’s your ship docked?”

Chak tilts her head again.

“Do you not have things to gather? Possessions? Um… alcohol?”

With a smirk Simone unzips her worn animal skin jacket and opens it up showing pockets and pouches galore. Flasks, credit chips, knives, rations, tightly rolled articles of clothing, bones, mysterious liquids and substances all stored away.

“You always keep everything you own on you in a place like this, just common sense.” Simone winks before zipping back up.

It’s then Chak finally notices the sidearm strapped at the hip. A plasma handgun of some sort, a rare thing to see outside military organizations. Not necessarily illegal to possess one, however the means of acquiring it is often dubious at best.

“Hm, I’ve heard of Terran spontaneity, but you surprise me! Not that I’m ungrateful for such a quick and amicable agreement, but I hope you’re not sacrificing too much of your life here.” Chak admits with a faint thought of suspicion regarding how easy this exchange has been.

Simone barks a laugh, planting her hands on her hips.

“Have you seen this place? It’s a shithole even by my standards, and that’s saying a lot. No shortage of work, sure. But it’s all a fast and loose kind of work, and most of it isn’t what I’d call… pleasant. In fact, I was just kind of in the middle of something before spotting you, and if I can use this opportunity to jump ship to avoid it… fuck yeah, let’s do this!”

“Oh… in that case, follow me if you would! Our ship is docked in Bay S117.” Chak chirps clasping all her appendages together.

Simone nods, stepping aside to finally allow the Cali to pass.

As one tails closely behind the other through the station the duo both begin to grow uneasy. Chak’s instincts gradually go haywire, knowing that a predator is pursuing her is a difficult thing to overwrite. Without making the conscious decision, she keeps peering back at the Terran to keep tabs, and she keeps catching herself from quickening her steps.

All the while other species watch on murmuring and looking damn near panicked from witnessing a poor little distressed Cali being accosted by a Deathworlder. All of which isn’t lost on Simone. A filthy feeling grows in her chest, suddenly realizing this is probably going to happen very often.

“Shit… maybe this really isn’t such a good idea...” she considers wishing the accusing stares would just stop. Is a job like this really worth having to deal with this bullshit? Of course the “lucky break” is rife with the only thing that gets under her skin. There’s always a goddamn catch-

Her focus comes back not seeing the Cali in front of her anymore.

“Shit!”

Before the adrenaline can kick in, a soft three clawed hand takes hold of hers. She looks down to her left seeing Chak casually walking by her side.

“There we go! Much better. Hope you don’t mind.” she chirps pleasantly, still looking forward.

Not quite processing it, Simone silently abides noticing the ongoing stares remain. However now they are ones of confusion and… well, confusion. Even though the handholding was a bit much, this is indeed much better.

The Terran looks down to this strange Cali. Despite weighing next to nothing to her, she alone just lifted a weight off Simone’s soul that even the great “Deathworlder” struggled to bear. This Cali is definitely made from something else.

“Alright… maybe this gig won’t be so bad.”

That line of thought takes a big backseat once Chak opens the dock doors. The ship is a beautiful make, much bigger than Simone would have ever guessed for a crew of two. Yet the stain of a dozen armed insectoid aliens waiting outside the ship’s loading bay does lessen the impression a bit. Especially since two of the buggers are currently working away at the ship’s door with plasma cutters.

“You didn’t happen to hire a band of Carvvv hijackers for your illustrious crew did you?” Simone asks.

“Of course not… Hey! That’s my ship!” The Cali starts marching forward, only to be stopped by Simone’s hand.

“Relax, Bo Peep. Consider this a proof of purchase.” Simone steps around her to approach the ne'er-do-wells.

“My name is Chak, and I would never buy a person!” the Cali retorts in an insulted huff.

Rolling her eyes Simone stops ten feet from the uninvited guests. All who stop and stare back blankly at the Terran.

“Hey guys, unfortunately for you, I’m in charge of the safety of this ship and the crew within. So I’m going to politely ask you to vacate. I know the ship is big and pretty, but is it worth fighting a scary Terran over?”

In disturbingly perfect unison the troublesome dozen respond;

“Yes.”

“Well shit.”

Other than the two working the doors, the rest bum-rush Simone wielding repurposed security taser batons. Utilizing the standardized lighter gravity, Simone leaps straight up like an actor on wires climbing atop the ship. The skittering attackers follow suit, but are required to take separate longer paths up the ship.

Chak backs up against a wall to watch on, expecting the Terran to draw her sidearm and fire upon the exposed insectoids from the highground, but to her unease, Simone just stands there waiting for them to get close.

The first to get within arms range is quickly dispatched as Simone thrusts her fist through the bug’s neck joint. A spurt of neon blue fluids fires from the now limp corpse. From behind, another gets close, yet doesn’t expect the Terran to swing their brood brother’s corpse up and over on top of them. Not killed by the weaponized comrade blow, the last thing their glowing blue blank optical organs see is a boot coming down.

The exoskeleton skull cracks inward like a hollowed out watermelon coating Simone’s titanium toe boot in fashionable blue. Two more on either side encroach at once, giving Simone pause. She readies a stance bringing her fists up in a defensive position while widening her stance. Systematically she aims her fists at joints and swiftly rotates her upper body fluidly to dodge impacts.

Chak can’t look away. She couldn’t understand why these Carvvv were so determined to take down a Deathworlder for a single ship. Granted the ship is worth a cute credit, but this is just insanity.

The additional four lay gored and fractured around the Terran, leaving four more up here and two at the ship’s door. However, only three come at the Terran with batons while a cheeky lil’ bitch gyne stays back with a pulse rifle.

Immediately, Simone practically dances herself to remain behind the melee fighters to obstruct a clear shot. She easily dispatches one after another, but reserves the third for a special fate. She grabs the wrist wielding the baton and twists off the entire grasper. Then, with a mighty headbutt, she stuns the combatant long enough to spin it around and grapple for a handy shield.

“It’s over! Drop the rifle and I’ll let the rest of you off easy!” Simone commands as she slowly advances forward.

The rifleman loudly garbles something in their native tongue. Simone halts, questioning what was just said while waiting for her translator to kick in, but the Cali screaming made the intent plainly clear.

“Simone!” She cries out backing away from the two charging Carvvv who have turned their plasma cutters from the door to the lone alien lady. The rifleman takes the Terran by surprise as it fires at the already wounded shield, killing it instantly.

Simone runs forward with the corpse, shattering more and more as further concussive pulse shots collide. She throws what’s left of the poor bastard down and thwacks the pulse rifle barrel aside as it fires a final time. Pressing up, she takes hold of the rifle and yanks it free from the previous owner’s grasp. Then, like a spear, she jams the weapon up through the cranium.

Ripping it free, she takes aim, and fires at the bug closest to Chak. The rifle buzzes a negative response.

“Of course.” Simone curses. Her hand brushes her holstered pistol, but deciding against it, she instead runs down the side of the ship’s hull. When reaching a forty five degree angle she coils her legs and springs out to launch herself. Using her own body as a projectile she slams into the back of the closest Carvvv, snapping their center joint upon impact.

Rolling forward, she continues her momentum for another leap. With less gusto, she tackles the final bug. It squirms and wildly swings the plasma torch in a manic attempt to fight back in vain. Their life is snuffed out as Simone harshly twists the head to face the incorrect direction.

With a squelch, the final deceased Carvvv plops to the ground. The Terran leans back on her knees, catching her breath. Bathed in an inkblot of neon blue and chitin chunks she looks over to Chak.

“Told ya… Made yourself a perfect target.” she says while trying to shake some of the gore from her arms.

“Precisely why I- we hired you. And it looks like you are… uhg... exceptionally qualified.” Chak replies avoiding her gaze, but still finds bile threatening to erupt.

“Happy to please, hey, that fancy ship of yours wouldn’t happen to have any bathing facilities would it?”

“Of course it does, it’s a converted luxury transport yacht. Don’t get too excited though, the spa was one of the few things not gutted.” Chak maneuvers around the bodies and splashes of gore to the cargo door.

“Spa? Hell, I would have accepted a big tin water bucket.” Simone stands and begins collecting the nearby batons.

Ignoring the blatant death and carnage around her, Chak secures a net connection to the ships comms.

“Captain? I’ve returned, and have acquired the services of a Deathwo-er… a Terran. She has already… umm... dispatched the attackers outside the ship. Would you please open the cargo door?”

“About time! Another hour and they may have finally cut through the first compression seal, ha!” a low bubbling voice replies.

The cargo door releases a breath and pops as it slides up. An accompanying ramp lowers itself, standing at the top is a lumbering, six foot tall, blubbery figure. Adorned in a white and gold Captain’s uniform, the vaguely frog faced reptile man stands at attention.

Simone walks up next to Chak carrying a small bundle of batons and the pulse rifle slung over her shoulder.

“Chucknuq I presume?” she says as she saunters up the ramp.

“Aye! I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage…”

“My people tend to do that, heh. But in all seriousness, the name’s Simone.” she reaches out a tacky blue tinted arm in greeting.

Wordlessly Chucknuq’s whole head looks down at the hand, to the visible dead Carvvvs, to Chak, and finally back to Simone. His vibrant red color gradually shifts to a muted orange.

“Ah yes. Welcome aboard! It pleases the Suns to see not only Ms. Chakalata’motaas’s safe return, but her mission was successful! Simone was it? Come, come!” he turns and slithers with his snake-like lower body into the cargo bay.

Simone wanders behind, giving the initial interior a good once-over.

“Plenty of storage space for transporting goods...”

“Oh, you will find the bathing facilities up on the second deck left hallway, there is a very clear sign. Go ahead and wash up while we get the ship up and moving!” Chak assures.

“Sure thing.” With a thumbs up, Simone passes by and starts up the backstairs.

“Oh! One more thing!” Chak calls after her.

The Terran stops and glances back over her shoulder.

“Thanks for saving me… again. I promise to make your employment here worth it.” the cali chips softly.

Simone smirks.

“You already have, Chak.”

With that, the Terran leaves in pursuit of a good wash down.

“I can’t believe you hired a Terran.” Chucknuq utters before making his way to the ship’s bridge. Chak follows in a huff.

“I’m telling you, a Terran is exactly who we need!” Chak insists.

“Out of all the Deathworlders to pick from… didn’t your ‘parliamentary research’ determine that there was at least five different species better suited?” he grumbles.

“Technically yes, but they failed to meet my standards.”

Chucknuq sits down in the pilot’s seat and begins launch procedures.

“Well, I trust you. If you’re confident that this Terran is good enough to keep our hides unskinned, then I’ll trust this Deathworlder to do their duty.”

“Simone. Her name is Simone.” Chak reminds as she crosses her arms behind her back.

“As you say, your majesty.”