An old, battle-scarred space station drifts through the vast void of space, surrounded by a swarm of ships encircling it like predators closing in on their prey. Within its perimeter, dozens of vessels loom ominously, imposing an unrelenting siege upon the outpost. Any escape attempt is swiftly met with ruthless destruction, as armour-piercing particle beams mercilessly tear apart fleeing civilian spacecraft, rending them as scrap metal with chilling efficiency.
A lithe figure spotting a coat of sleek short purple fur manoeuvres stealthily through the narrow confines of the station's air vents, her cat-like eyes scanning the surroundings with heightened vigilance. Each breath she takes feels laboured as she struggles to contain the rising tide of panic within her. With painstaking precision, she ensures that her three clawed fingers make no sound as they delicately navigate the metallic surface of the vent.
Drawing closer to a vent opening, she adjusts her position, straining to bring her translator module, fastened to her pointed purple ear, within range of the voices resonating from the chamber below. Her heart races with anticipation as she strains to eavesdrop on the conversations unfolding beneath her, her senses attuned to every whisper and murmur echoing through the station.
Peering through the vent, careful not to let her long dark purple fringe slip through the gaps, she observes two formidable figures clad in sleek black armour, their amphibious features suggesting an otherworldly origin. Each grips a heavy blaster firmly in their scaly hands, their demeanour exuding an aura of formidable prowess.
As her translation module hums to life, the screen on her bracer, securely fastened to her forearm, blinks into existence, projecting the translated text in crisp clarity. "Crax-Hen Common," it spells out, as the once incomprehensible language of the two heavily armed aliens is seamlessly translated into a form she can comprehend.
The cat-eyed alien watched with narrowed eyes as the two aliens conversed, her attention unwavering and her senses keenly attuned to every word spoken.
“This is too easy,” the scaly reptile remarked, his long forked tongue retracting back into his mouth.
The other alien flicked out his tongue in response before replying, “Remember to keep any rare lifeforms alive. The captain orders…” His voice trailed off into a hiss, conveying an air of authority.
Just as they were about to continue, the reptile's arm snapped up to a black metal module affixed to the side of his head. His demeanour shifted, a subtle hint of worry betraying his stoic facade as he listened intently, his tail twitching nervously.
“Don't say x’Licsie navy is here…” he murmured, his tone tinged with apprehension.
“No, they are still currently held up protecting their boarders due to the war. It's why this place was easy pickings…To the point that the Captain wants this as our home base,” the other alien responded matter-of-factly.
“Was?” the first alien inquired, his curiosity piqued.
The alien with the odd module paused to listen before replying, “The first strike team has found the ship logs… Currently, a human spaceship is docked here… And a Kakila ship too…”
The cat-eyed alien's heart skipped a beat as she heard them mention her ship. These were no ordinary pirates, she realised with a sinking feeling, cursing internally as her ears twitched with heightened alertness.
Her attention snapped back to the aliens as one of them shouted, “Human!” The greenish-yellow-scaled lizard snapped, his posture mirroring the other's seriousness. “What is a human doing on this side of the galaxy!”
“I don’t know, but the Captain wants it neutralised upon sight and the Kakila captured as she fetches a high price,” the other replied, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.
"Slavers," the Kalila frowned, her tail stiffening and puffing behind her.
The alien muttered something incomprehensible to the Kakila's translator, expressing disbelief. “He wants us to kill a human AND capture a Kakila! Is he insane? They are both Deathworlders!”
The other sighed, his tail snapping in frustration. “Kakilas would rather run and hide than fight. As long as we don’t corner it and trigger its fight response, we'll be fine… But the human…” The lizard-like xeno groaned in resignation, realising the daunting task ahead.
The Kakila's ears twitched once more, picking up the heavy footsteps reverberating against the metal flooring of the corridor. Below, the aliens tensed, their gazes meeting as they readied their heavy rifles in anticipation. The sound drew nearer, prompting the cat-like alien to awkwardly angle her head to catch a glimpse up the corridor from where it emanated.
A bipedal figure, clad in mismatched armour scavenged from various races, sprinted towards them, its tailless form a stark contrast to the reptilian aliens. Through its helmet, it spoke in an unintelligible language before levelling a gun at the two aliens. It fumbled with the odd-looking rifle, eliciting a click but no discharge.
The lizards exchanged a glance before refocusing their attention on the peculiarly armoured bipedal. With a determined slap and a series of clicks, the bipedal finally managed to fire the gun, unleashing a deafening roar that sent it sliding backwards on its back as a blinding blue light erupted from the weapon.
The corridor quaked with the force of the explosion, the Kakila feeling the vibrations rattle her bones through the ventilation system. Smoke billowed forth, accompanied by the sickening stench of scorched flesh as the aftermath of the blast engulfed the corridor in energetic chaos.
Ranger. That was the moniker he had adopted after being referred to as such by those brave enough to approach him over the last few cycles. Emblazoned on the back of his mismatched armour, beneath his military training fatigues, were the bold letters: RANGER.
As he lay on his back, gazing up at the blinking panel lights lining the metal corridors of the space station, he cursed the day he accidentally dropped his energy drink into the internal fueling port of his starfighter. The mishap had transformed his FTL drive into a temporary Warp drive, hurling him to the other side of the galaxy. The scientists back home would undoubtedly have a field day analysing that anomaly.
With a groan, he pushed himself back onto his feet, brushing off the dust from his mismatched armour. "Damn, that thing had a kick..." he muttered, eyeing his gun. Its small screen flashes red, indicating it was out of ammo. With a shrug, he tossed it aside, no longer of any use.
He paused for a moment as the ceiling above him creaked and groaned, several bits of metal and debris clattering down onto the floor. The station's structural integrity was compromised, concerning realisation amidst the short-lived battle.
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Ranger's visor on his helmet highlighted the two figures that had once stood before him, now reduced to mere remnants scattered across the scorched corridor. With a solemn nod, he approached the alien whose body still retained some semblance of integrity, despite the damage inflicted.
Delving into the creature's armour and pockets concealed behind the metal armaments, Ranger retrieved a small handgun and a couple of magazines. The design bore similarities to a standard issue army pistol from Earth, albeit adorned with additional attachments like a red dot sight atop, an ammo display at the back, and a laser pointer beneath the barrel. Ranger huffed in mild exasperation at the technological complexity of the pistol, shaking his head as he removed the red dot sight and laser attachments, discarding them onto the floor.
Examining the digital ammo count screen, which displayed the remaining rounds in simplistic red dots, Ranger deduced that the gun was loaded with eight bullets, or whatever projectile was fired.
Noticing a switch on the side of the gun, presumably the safety mechanism, he attempted to squeeze the trigger, only to find it locked in place. With a deft flick of his thumb, he toggled the switch, unlocking the safety and allowing him to squeeze the trigger once more, firing a shot that recoiled with force and caused one of the dots on the screen to fade.
Pursing his lips in a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment, Ranger muttered, "The loot drops are bad today... But it'll do." With a resigned shrug, he holstered the pistol, preparing himself for the challenges that lay ahead in the besieged space station.
Once more, the ceiling groaned and creaked, a sudden crack echoing through the space. Metal rained down, followed by a deafening clang that reverberated in Ranger's ears. As the dust and debris settled, he heard a cough amidst the sparking of electrical wires.
Bewildered, he approached what remained of the ventilation duct and peered inside. A cat-like alien coughed into her three-fingered hand, a small thumb adorning the appendage.
Ranger slammed his hand on the vent three times with a heavy thud, hoping to catch the alien's attention. Upon seeing him, she recoiled, her ears flattening against her purple hair. Her cat-like eyes darted up and down, scanning every inch of Ranger's form.
"Hey... You good?" Ranger asked, genuine concern evident in his voice.
He received a hiss in reply.
"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured, extending a hand, only to have it swiped at with sharp claws. Though they merely left marks on the armour adorning his arm, the cuts were surprisingly deep.
"Hey, come on! I found this only an hour ago... Now look at it!" Ranger showed the alien his damaged gauntlet. "Do you know how hard it is to find armour that fits four fingers and a thumb?"
The alien remained silent, swiping again with its sharp claws. This time, Ranger pulled back just in time to avoid being injured. After a moment of silence, a grin spread across Ranger's face within his helmet. He teasingly placed his arm closer, swiftly retracting it before the deadly claws could make contact. After several rounds of this playful exchange, he couldn't help but laugh.
Suddenly, he heard the alien start to crawl away from him within the vent. Standing up, he followed the sound of scratching and clanging until he reached the other end. The exit was small, blocked by heavy steel beams and bent into a small opening. Amusement danced in Ranger's eyes as he watched the alien's cat-like face pop out from the gap, only to hiss and attempt to retreat but only to find herself stuck.
Ranger crouched down in front of the frightened alien, meeting her eyes with a reassuring gaze. He could see the fear reflected in her cat-like features, the fur around her neck and ears standing on end.
"Calm down. I'm not one of those guys..." he began, his voice steady and soothing.
"Aga stuc un giv un," the alien replied with a hiss, her softer tones indicating her gender, a trait seemingly universal across the galaxy, or so Ranger surmised from his encounters with panicked aliens.
Ranger's translator, clipped around his ear, beeped and his visor flashed with the words "Kakila Low Common."
"You know I'm a carnivore, right? Get away from me! I'll eat the flesh from your face!" the Kakila shouted, her panic evident in her voice.
"Cool. Me too..." Ranger shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the threats.
Noticing the lack of comprehension and the puzzled head tilt from the alien, Ranger let out a sigh. In one swift motion, he reached out and caught hold of the Kakila's ear, causing her to thrash around in her metal entrapment. Leaning in closer, he spoke directly into the earpiece clipped onto her ear.
"Sol Three - Earth - English Standard," he enunciated clearly, hoping to bridge the communication gap between them.
Roe stopped thrashing and looked up at the human.
"Can you understand me now?" Ranger asked.
"Yes, I can," Roe replied in a panicked voice.
"What's your name?"
"...Roelkilth’x’ill…"
"Roekil…ex.ile…" Ranger struggled to pronounce it. "Alright, Roe it is."
Roe's eyes widened as she gasped, "You can’t just shorten my name like that! You big-" Ranger's translator gave a double beep for an approximate word, "Ape!"
The human rolled his eyes behind his visor and let go of her ear, unclipping the back of his helmet and sliding it off.
"Why? I can’t pronounce it all."
"To shorten one's name means we are mates."
"I consider we’re well on our way to friendship already - mate," Ranger responded.
Roe's fear subsided, replaced by disgust. "I’ll never hold your litter!" she snapped, fangs bared.
"I don’t expect you to pick up my trash!" Ranger looked back at her with visible confusion. "I’m looking for a battle mate or a battle buddy for a better term, not a lackey."
Roe's translator gave a double beep for an approximate word for "buddy." Upon hearing the meaning, she relaxed. "I think you mean a friend, right?"
Ranger nodded, confirming her guess. "Mate, bud, buddy, friend, pal, amigo, chum," He lists off different terms for friendship.
As the human listed off the various words for "friend," Roe's translator unexpectedly provided additional meanings, such as sexual partner for breeding, friend, Part of a plant that flowers, friend, friend, enslaved animal, friend and post intercourse creamy discharge of the slug race Flabthoon…
"Enough! Enough... Please..." Roe almost yelled, appearing visibly squeamish.
Ranger paused mid-word, noticing her distress. "What's wrong?"
"Friend... Just use 'friend'... Please," Roe pleaded.
Ranger pondered for a moment before replying, "I don’t know, thinking about it, I prefer the term 'chum.' Has a British ring to it."
Once again, Roe's translator beeped, signaling her frustration. "Stop! Just..." She attempted to pull her head out from the tight gap.
Without hesitation, Ranger pushed his hand onto Roe's face, forcing her head through with a clang.
Following the clanging and scratching along the battered air duct, Ranger stood at the exit, watching as the purple cat-like alien emerged.
Roe stood only at chest height to Ranger, her ears barely reaching under his chin if she stood close to him. He observed as she stretched out her slender form, dusting off her fur and licking her arm before scratching behind her ear. Pausing mid-scratch, Roe looked up at Ranger.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing. Just the first time seeing a nudist alien... Thought I'd come across one eventually. You all wear some sort of clothing in some shape or another," Ranger remarked casually.
"Nudist?" Roe's translator beeped as she repeated the word, her flight response triggered as she lifted her tail between her legs to cover her mammary glands.
"Oh!" Ranger exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Wait, why are you naked?"
"I was in the public shower when these... these pirates, slavers -Whatever they are- aliens attacked. I heard the shouting and gunfire... I didn’t think to grab my clothes before climbing into the vents... Please stop looking..." Roe whispered, turning around in an attempt to cover her modesty.
“Yet you have that computer on your arm and your translator?” Ranger asked, folding his arms.
“I forgot to take them off when I was in the shower…” Roes ears flattened with embarrassment.
"Huh well…we should find you some clothes," Ranger suggested, realising the urgency of the situation. With a motion of his arm beckoned Roe to follow him, “Come on there’s a few dead aliens that might have clothes your size.”
Roe felt a wave of disgust wash over her at the thought of wearing clothes taken from the dead, but she knew the practicality of the situation outweighed her discomfort. Walking around a battleground in bare fur was not a smart move.
As Ranger, already a few steps ahead, turned around, he called out, "Are you coming or not?"
Roe huffed, still trying to cover herself. "Yes. Just don’t look, I'll be right behind—" She paused mid-sentence, then hissed, "STOP looking!"
The human laughed. "Hey, come on now, it’s my first time seeing Kitty Tiddies."
Another double beep from Roe's translator indicated her confusion.
"Something tells me you're lucky that didn’t translate…" Roe scowled with her ears now tightly pinned down.
Ranger chuckled, placing his helmet over his head and fastening it. "I think we are going to get along fine. I was looking for one of those dog-looking aliens to be my battle buddy, but I think a cat is fine too…"