It turned out that the Shrell, the octopoid aliens that served as the ship's crew, really liked to gamble. On the ship they were standoff-ish and cold. Impersonal and overly formal but as soon as they were inside the social area Bob had created in the stash they unwound like a broken clock. They were also overly fond of whiskey. They didn’t get drunk per se, a small glass made them slightly euphoric for a few hours and it had become a popular escape for the crew of Kipragtsek.

“I’ll raise you ten,” Hrul threw a chip into the kitty and leant back, his cards held in a pair of tentacles and kept close to what passed for his chest. Three Shrell were currently enjoying a round of cards with most of the Carnival.

“Go fish!” said Evie. Hrul looked confused then emitted a bubbling noise from his bottom half that had severely disturbed the humans at first. It was the Shrell equivalent of a sigh.

“We are playing poker, Evie,” it said in an exasperated voice. The Shrell, after a glass or two, had been only too happy to explain their asexual method of reproduction. Jinp had even demonstrated it for them, dividing like a giant, grey, many-tentacled amoeba splitting down the middle. Evie had gone green at the sight and insisted they never do it around her again.

“Oh ok, I’ll see you and raise five then,” Evie grinned at getting a rise out of the alien.

The betting continued until the pot was at about five thousand Essence, the buy-ins were currently held in escrow by Bob. Hrul took the round with three kings and extended his flexible limbs to scoop the kitty to his side of the table.

“You do have some excellent games! You’re very different from the last group of your sort that came aboard,” said Hrul as it stacked its chips carefully. “Perhaps we could try this Monopoly you talk about soon?”

“It’s not really a gambling game,” said Reg grumpily, having lost heavily over the last few rounds. They were keeping the stakes low. At least they were low as far as the Carnival were concerned, limited to a few thousand Essence per round. It was his pride that was stung. He’d been playing poker for fifty odd years and these upstart aliens had mastered it in less than four months. The fact their biology was so unusual gave them a huge edge in terms of bluffing and Reg was only convinced they weren’t cheating by the fact they were permanently naked and had nowhere to hide cards.

“What was the last lot like?” asked Zeeg as she used stubby little arms that grew out from under her chin to shuffle and deal a new hand. She had accepted how useful thumbs were but would never adopt a permanent form other than her perfect canine body.

“Oh, bunch of cloacae. Tried to smash their way out of their hold at the start. The Lord-Captain put them in their place though then they ejaculated every time they saw one of us,” Hrul muttered as it examined its cards.

“Not sure ejaculated was the right word there, mate,” muttered Raoul, likewise looking at his hand.

“The expulsion of material from a cloaca is ejaculate is it not?” said Frep.

“No Frep. At least not all the time. We have different organs for ‘excreting’ and… other stuff, kind of. Christ it’s weird trying to discuss this kind of thing with beings who don’t even screw. You got the short end of the evolutionary stick on that one!” chuckled Sam.

“The Lord-Captain says we’re one of the most advanced and favoured species within the system,” replied Hrul casually as it threw in its ante and glanced around as everyone else followed suit. “We serve in the voidliners and we don’t have to fight the Void.”

“What happened to your home world?” asked Flash casually from off to the side where he was reading a book with his feet propped up on a stool. Getting information about the wider cosmos out of the little squids had become something of a sport for the humans.

“We had no home world. We were born in the black ocean and that is why we are the best to work the voidliners,” said Hrul, settling in to follow the bets.

“Let’s have a round of drinks as well, eh?” said Vic brightly. John obliged and blipped an amber bottle to the table, pouring out glasses and porting them in front of the other players. The Shrell slurped greedily at the glasses and finished them in moments while the humans took careful sips. Zeeg, as usual, abstained from the devil’s water.

After a couple more hands, one of which went to Raoul and one to Frep who bubbled happily as it scraped over the chips, Flash looked over at the table, laying his book in his lap.

“Frep’s getting a lot better!” he said, pointing at the substantial pile of chips in front of the alien. Frep rippled. It was strange to see, starting at the base tentacles hidden under the table and shivering up across its more or less humanoid torso and head. They didn’t have bones, they relied on hydrostatic pressure to maintain their form which made them very resilient to shifts in gravity, a phenomena that happened more often than the little creatures would like aboard the decrepit voidliner.

“Thank you, Flash. I have been studying the underlying mathematical principles!” it bubbled happily.

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“Learning to count fecking cards ye mean!” Reg complained bitterly.

“What is counting cards?” asked Hrul as both aliens focussed on him.

“Ah nothing ye freaky grey bastards. Forget I said anything!” Reg snapped glancing down at his cards, tossing a chip worth a hundred Essence into the pot and raising the bets.

“Do you think the Lord-Captain might like to join us for a game sometime?” Flash asked, continuing to pay attention to the game.

“That glurble? Nah, not its kind of thing! It's all about the ‘noble cause of our mission’ and ‘ensuring maintenance logs are up to date and the ship is functional,” grumbled Hrul.

“Keeping the ship working seems like a good idea to me. We’re on the bloody thing!” laughed Evie.

“Kipragtsek is a young ship, barely thirty thousand years old. No need for major maintenance until it hits fifty,” muttered Frep, meeting Reg’s raise.

“That’s older than any recorded civilization on Earth!” said Sam.

“Young species always say that. The Lord-Captain says to just ignore the ignorant savages. No offence,” Hrul added hurriedly.

“No worries. So the LC won’t even deign to play some games of chance with us lowly savages?” asked John. He folded and tossed his cards onto the table.

“The LC, very disrespectful by the way, won’t even talk to most of us. It sends out comm updates and that’s pretty much all we see of it.”

“What level is it?” asked a bio-Bob that stopped as he was passing through the rec area on some inscrutable mission. Over the last month or so Bob had become extremely cagey about what his drones were getting up to.

“Eighty,” burped Frep happily as it won the hand and collected yet more chips. “It keeps us in line, we keep you in line. It’s how it’s always been.” The aliens they’d met were only level thirty, how they imagined they could keep the Carnival in line was beyond John’s understanding. He supposed they could simply seal their hold and stop supplying oxygen but they could retreat into the stash and be fine for months if not years.

“Here,” John poured out more drinks for the little aliens and blipped them over. The Shrell guzzled greedily, they seemed to lack self control when presented with a luxury item. “Are you happy with your jobs?” he asked while Zeeg dealt the next hand.

“What’s happy?” Hrul made a farting noise that meant contentment and didn’t involve any noxious gases. “I mean I know what it means but it doesn't apply to Shrell. We serve on the ship. It’s what we do, my great-great progenitor was split on this ship and my great-great descendant will be as well.”

“Do you ever get to leave?” asked Flash. “I’d hate to be pent up like that my whole life.”

“Leave? Nope. Why would we want to? The Kipragtsek is our world,” Frep replied.

"Sounds pretty rough. I’d miss the open skies and flying,” Evie said quietly.

“On an actual planet? Where the Void can reach you? We’re safe on the ship. We don’t have to fear the Void like you terrestrials.”

“Guys, sorry to interrupt but I’ve just had a message from our illustrious Lord-Captain. Guy, thing, whatever- it really likes the sound of its own voice!” came Bob’s voice from a nearby speaker.

“We must depart. Can we settle up later?” asked Hrul hurriedly, eyeing the pile of chips in front of it on the table.

“We’ll leave the game as is. Let’s bin this hand and we can pick up next time you guys are free,” said Vic gently. The creatures were hard to read, having none of the physical tells they associated with emotions in humans. The physical tells they did have tended to involve bubbling or farting noises that didn’t mean what they would in a member of homo sapiens.

“Thanks. That would be perfect. Safe travels and good luck,” said Frep as it and Hrul undulated rapidly towards the exit of the stash.

“Good luck?” asked Reg, eying his friends. “What did the wee boggart mean by that?”

“It’s a deployment. The prick in charge put it on loop three times then cancelled the message and it doesn’t look like we’re going to get anymore info,” said Bob as one of his bio-units walked over and sat down, pulling a glass of scotch over from in front of John who scowled. “You’ll need a clear head.” Bob drained the glass in one gulp. “Here’s the message.”

A screen on the wall lit up and a larger, darker coloured version of the Shrell appeared on it. As difficult as it was to read the thing’s emotions, the disdain for them was plain in this one's voice.

“Human unit 143. You are hereby alerted to an impending deployment. You have twenty units to prepare. The voidliner Hagrutship that was running line 1345 has been waylaid by rebellious savages and they must be put down, order restored. The Shrell aboard are dead, anything moving is to be considered hostile and terminated. Avoid damaging the engines and life support systems if you value your lives.”

“Terminated eh?” chuckled Evie. “With extreme prejudice, it seems.”

“We know the Shrell are brainwashed slaves. You think they might have rebelled on the Hagru-whatever and taken down the LC?” asked Flash, still stretched out and reading his book. He licked a finger and carefully turned a page.

“No way to know. Odds are it will be ‘savages’ like us who took over the ship. The Shrell are too low level compared to the Lord-Captain to stand a chance; and that’s assuming they could muster the will to try,” said Bob thoughtfully.

“Remember Spartacus? Or the Alamo or Rourke's Drift? Sometimes even a doomed enterprise can flourish for a while.” All eyes pivoted to Zeeg who gave a canine shrug. “I like old tv shows and movies. I’m allowed to.”

“No one said you weren’t, puppy,” said John, eliciting a brief tail wag from the dog. “Still we learned a lot in that little speech.”

“What? Zeeg likes old movies?” asked Evie.

“Well we know they prefer us to arrange our own transport. We know there are at least fifteen hundred ‘lines’ so at least 1500 of these damn ships and we now know we’re the 143rd group of humans to go off-world. All valuable info. How long is a time unit in normal measurements?”

“About three minutes, I think,” said Bob thoughtfully. “143 other teams have already done this? Shit we’re so behind the powercurve. We’ll need to make this trip worth it.”

“So about an hour before we get to move to our target? Can we take Doris?” asked Sam.

“We’re definitely taking Prime at the very least,” said Bob. “The Shrell get really pissy when I try to sample the ship’s tech. This is a golden opportunity for me. As for Doris? If we can find a spot to put her down it would probably be worth it. My drones aren’t as good against system users compared to monsters but they’ll help scout and support us.”

“What none of ye fecking Sassenachs are thinking about is the most important thing!” snapped Reg. They looked at him but he didn’t say anything more, just glaring back at his friends.

“And what might that be, oh most wise Reginald?” drawled Evie.

“If’n they took over the ship, they must be pretty fecking strong to deal with the Lord-Captain. We’re being sent on a fecking suicide mission.”