The Galactic Plumber

You ever have one of those days where you wake up thinking, Hey, maybe today won't be a complete disaster, and then, surprise! You're actually about to fight a hyper-evolved sludge monster that used to be your ship's worst plumbing accident?

Yeah. Welcome to my life.

Prepping for a Bad Day With Specimen 37—now a fully sentient, hive-minded space horror—threatening to assimilate us, we had maybe six hours before The Collective showed up with their mystery fleet. And let me tell you, nothing motivates an engineering crew like the thought of getting turned into intergalactic sludge zombies.

"Alright, people," I called out, standing in the middle of Engineering. "This is what we call a do-or-die situation. I need all secondary power rerouted to weapons and shields. Double-check our FTL drive in case we need to book it, and for the love of everything holy, someone get me a functional defense grid!"

One of the junior engineers raised a hand. "Uh, sir? The defense grid was functional… before the sewage flood shorted out half the circuits."

I clenched my jaw. "Right. Okay. Guess we're rebuilding it manually. You, grab a toolkit. You, start calibrating the shield harmonics."

Benny appeared at my side, clutching a datapad. "So, good news and bad news."

"Benny, I swear—"

"Hear me out! Good news: I think I found a way to stabilize the reactor so we don't explode mid-battle."

"Great. And the bad?"

"Well," Benny hesitated. "If I do it wrong, the ship definitely explodes mid-battle."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Cool. No pressure."

The Captain's Plan (Which I Hated Immediately)

Back on the bridge, Ryker and Orla were deep in tactical planning when I stormed in, still covered in grease and fury.

"Alright, tell me we have a plan that isn't just 'pray and hope we don't die.'"

Ryker glanced at Orla. "We have a plan."

Orla smirked. "You're not gonna like it."

Oh, fantastic.

The main screen lit up with a schematic of the ship. Ryker pointed to the ventilation system—the same one Specimen 37 had used to escape when it was still a gooey abomination.

"We're going to use the vents."

I frowned. "For what? Air freshener? Because trust me, this ship needs it."

Ryker ignored me. "We lure them in. Let them board. Then we funnel them into an isolated section of the ship and flush them into space."

I stared at him. "Did you just suggest turning the ship into a giant toilet?"

Benny muttered, "Full circle. Poetic, really."

I rubbed my temples. "Okay. And what happens if they don't fall for it?"

Orla shrugged. "Then we die."

Wow. I just love working here.

And Then, They Arrived

The countdown hit zero.

Alarms blared. The whole ship shuddered as something massive dropped out of FTL right in front of us. The viewscreen flickered—revealing a fleet of sleek, black warships, all humming with eerie, green-tinted energy.

In the center of the fleet was their flagship. And standing on the bridge, glaring at us through a live feed?

Specimen 37.

Except now, it really wasn't a turd monster anymore. It was taller, stronger, its exoskeleton gleaming like polished obsidian. And when it spoke, its voice sent a shiver down my spine.

"You cannot escape. Surrender, and you will be remade."

Ryker stood tall. "Not happening."

Specimen 37 tilted its head. "Then you will be assimilated."

The feed cut.

And the first blast hit our shields.

Battle of the Space Toilet

The ship rocked violently. Engineering reports flooded in—power fluctuations, overheating conduits, stress fractures in the hull.

"Shields at 63%!" Orla shouted. "They're targeting our engines!"

Ryker turned to me. "Logan, I need power to weapons now."

"Working on it!" I yelled back, already sprinting toward the nearest maintenance hatch. "Benny, you're with me!"

We barely made it to Engineering before the next hit nearly sent us through a bulkhead. Sparks rained down from overloaded circuits, and half the room was covered in emergency red lighting.

Benny skidded to the reactor controls. "I can stabilize it, but I need more time!"

"Well, you've got maybe five minutes before we're space debris!"

I grabbed a toolkit and did what I do best—desperate, last-second miracle work.

Meanwhile, over the intercom, Orla's voice rang out:

"Enemy boarding craft inbound! They're trying to dock!"

Ryker's voice followed: "All hands, prepare for close-quarters combat!"

Oh, great. As if things weren't bad enough.

I locked eyes with Benny. "Looks like it's time for Plan Toilet Flush."

Benny groaned. "You have to stop calling it that."

Baiting the Trap

The enemy boarded fast.

Too fast.

Security reports came in—hull breaches on decks five and six. Shadowy, insectoid figures pouring in, moving in perfect synchronization. The Collective had arrived.

We initiated the trap.

Airlocks were sealed. Vent systems rerouted. Hallways systematically collapsed behind the invaders, funneling them exactly where we wanted.

I bolted for the nearest control panel. "Alright, Benny—time to pull the handle on this space toilet!"

Benny hit the final override.

With a deafening WHOOSH, emergency decompression triggered. The enemy forces were yanked into the void, flailing as they were ripped away from the ship and into the endless abyss of space.

The plan actually worked.

Unfortunately…

It only got rid of the grunts.

The flagship was still there.

And Specimen 37? It wasn't done with us yet.

Final Round Incoming

The comm crackled. Specimen 37's voice slithered through.

"Impressive. But futile."

A new energy surge spiked through our sensors. The flagship's weapons powered up—except this time, it wasn't aiming at us.

It was aiming at itself.

Benny paled. "Uh, Logan? Why is it—"

The enemy ship morphed.

Its hull cracked open, shifting, reforming—no longer just a warship, but a living organism.

Specimen 37 wasn't just commanding The Collective.

It was The Collective.

And it was about to show us what true assimilation looked like.

I turned to Benny. "Tell me you have an idea."

Benny gulped. "Uh… we run?"

I exhaled sharply. "Oh, yeah. Great plan, Benny."

Outside, the monstrous flagship loomed closer.

And then, the real fight began.