No longer facing the ominous threat posed by his kicks, the Mevik fared far better, and before too long they’d scored several goals against his team. Nonetheless, the match was far from over since his speed and maneuverability continued to pose a serious challenge for them.

A loud beeping noise emitted from the speaker system heralded the midgame break.

The exhausted players trudged off the field, making their way to a nearby rest area equipped with benches and a water fountain. They gratefully gulped down water and sprawled on the benches, preparing for the second half.

“You're really light on your feet for someone your size,” one of the players said to Andreas after they'd settled in the rest area.

“As evidenced by the fact you're losing,” Andreas replied tauntingly.

“Sharp on and off the field, I see,” the Mevik replied, not at all irritated by the smug response.

The players filed back onto the playing field and the match resumed.

Things progressed in a similar fashion as previously, with both teams scoring some points but with Andreas nudging the balance in his own team's favor.

Five minutes remaining, the speaker system warned.

Both teams were tied. With only a few minutes left, the next score would guarantee a win.

Andreas didn't care for letting the match end in a tie. His eyes locked in on the opposing ballcarrier.

*****

Without any warning, the specimen Andreas accelerated his speed by an order of magnitude.

Agozi's eyes widened in alarm, her whiskers standing straight out as she watched Andreas's sudden burst of speed. Her stomach clenched with dread, sensing he was up to no good.

Why isn't he decelerating? At that speed he's going to—

After closing the distance, the specimen tackled the ballcarrier which sent him flying into the air. The impact generated a thud as his body slammed into the ground followed by several unpleasant cracking sounds.

A series of agonized yelps erupted from the crumpled form of the ballcarrier, bringing the game to an instant halt. Players from both teams rushed to crowd around the fallen Mevik.

“Hey, can you hear me? Talk to me! How bad is it?” Agozi hurriedly asked the poor carrier.

“M-my leg... I think... I think it's broken…” the carrier replied with a brittle voice. Mucus leaked from its snout.

Agozi knelled down and examined the injuries.

The fibula bone had clearly snapped since pieces of it stuck out of the flesh. A life-threatening injury without medical intervention.

Within moments, a second medical team arrived on the scene. Agozi's eyes tracked their movements as they carefully loaded the incapacitated ballcarrier onto a stretcher and swiftly departed the stadium.

“I suppose we can cross him off the roster for the foreseeable future, eh?” Andreas asked, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his tone carrying an undercurrent of amusement despite the grim circumstances.

Agozi, who had failed to notice Andreas’s approach, flinched violently. Her ears shot up and she whirled around to find him looming over her.

“Oh, excuse me,” the specimen Andreas said. “Didn't intend to catch you off guard there.” His voice dripped with barely concealed mockery.

Agozi had now had enough. She surged to her feet, fur bristling and teeth bared in a snarl as her patience finally snapped.

“That was no accident!” she growled, her voice trembling with rage. “You deliberately knocked him down!”

Andreas's face remained impassive, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he regarded her outburst.

“Yes, rather regrettable... that incident,” he replied, his expression utterly devoid of concern. “Hopefully the poor chap isn't too severely hurt. I do apologize.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Agozi's anger and disbelief grew even more intense, her whiskers quivering with barely contained fury at Andreas's callous reaction.

“Sorry?! That's all you have to say?” she asked aghast. “You almost ended someone's life, and that's your pathetic response?!” Her voice rose to a near-shriek, thick with outrage. “Are you even aware that your actions could have been fatal?”

Though only a broken leg, such a severe injury could've caused the unlucky player to go into shock without treatment. Without medical intervention, survival prospects would not have looked good. The fact that the specimen didn't even seem to care was nothing short of mind-boggling, not to mention morally repugnant.

The specimen Andreas fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if mildly surprised by her words.

“Well, that's new information…” it replied eventually, its expression still just as blank and unfeeling. “No... I was unaware of that possibility. Fascinating how fragile your kind appears to be… I'll make a mental note of it. My apologies.”

Agozi and the other Mevik present stood in stunned silence, aghast at Andreas's cold indifference and what appeared to be utterly sociopathic behavior.

“That move is called a tackle, incidentally,” the specimen Andreas said eventually. “It's considered a normal play where I'm from.”

“Your sports involve potentially killing each other?” one of the players asked in utter disbelief.

“What even is a tackling move?” asked another.

“It doesn't matter one bit!” Agozi said, her fur standing on end and teeth bared in a snarl. “He deliberately hurt someone! The 'why' doesn't matter!” She paused, her eyes narrowing as she silently weighed her options, clearly furious yet uncertain how to proceed. Finally, she fixed Andreas with a withering glare. “I don't give a damn what Kaz said... this tour is done. You're coming with me into custody. This ends now.”

*****

Honorary-Lieutenant Snikers sat at his ornate desk, hands moving across holographic controls as he focused on his personal computer.

His office contrasted sharply with those used by other high-ranking personnel on the Minboa, its opulence a testament to his elevated status. It incorporated Pretenti aesthetics; a plush purple carpet covered the floor, and intricate silver filigree adorned the walls. A luminescent, plant-like structure hung from the ceiling, its bioluminescent fronds casting an ethereal glow across the room. The decor reflected Snikers' Pretenti heritage, a reminder of his inherent superiority among the ship's mediocre simpletons.

The significance of their impending accomplishments was lost on the mostly Mevik and Prol crew, their simple minds incapable of grasping the true importance. Their usefulness as cogs in the grand machine piloted by superior intellects was undeniable, yet expecting comprehension from such primitive beings would be an exercise in futility.

Snikers' hands moved over the holographic interface as he composed his message. Suddenly, his movements slowed. His whiskers twitched, and his tail swished uncertainly behind him. A flicker of doubt crossed his features as he contemplated his next action.

A minuscule fraction of his conscience refused to completely disregard the pangs of guilt. The Lieutenant's juvenile protests, while leaving a distasteful impression reminiscent of primordial intelligences, contained a kernel of truth. The manner in which their paramount mission had been presented to the crew lacked transparency, a fact that elicited a modicum of sympathy.

Snikers straightened in his chair, his resolve hardening. His expression shifted subtly, a slight tightening around the eyes betraying his determination as he refocused on the task at hand. His hands moved with renewed purpose across the controls.

Such trivial concerns were rendered inconsequential when weighed against the monumental reward awaiting them, encompassing the entire galaxy and all civilized life.

Snikers eyed the holographic "Send" button, his gaze flicking between it and his message. He paused, whiskers twitching as he considered whether to add any final thoughts.

Unbeknownst to Captain Kaz and the crew, their presumed communicator isolation was a carefully crafted illusion. The new experimental equipment's capabilities extended beyond enhanced jumping distances, enabling deep-space messaging. This crucial information had been meticulously withheld from Kaz, whose repeated demonstrations of reluctance, along with his ever-defiant Lieutenant, had made their unwilling participation in this grand quest abundantly clear. Providing them access to higher authorities would only complicate matters unnecessarily. The illusion of isolation served everyone's best interests. Snikers alone possessed the means to access the long-range communication channels, which he'd utilized to keep the Council apprised of recent developments.

Snikers activated the "Send" command with a wave of his hand. A smug grin spread across his muzzle, his eyes gleaming with excitement and self-satisfaction.

The Council's ecstatic reaction to their unprecedented discovery – a fully-fledged spacefaring civilization, the first in epochs – coupled with the successful test run of the drive, was a foregone conclusion. Naturally, the credit for this momentous achievement would be rightfully claimed by none other than himself.

At this juncture, what could possibly go wrong?

Snikers' communicator started buzzing, its sharp tone cutting through the quiet of his office. He turned away from the holographic interface, his tail twitching with mild annoyance at the interruption.

“Yes, what is it now?” he replied to the caller, his voice a blend of professional courtesy and barely concealed self-importance.

“The captain insists you join him in the briefing chamber immediately, sir.”

Snikers's tail flicked once, and his snout tightened almost imperceptibly.

“This seems beneath my station,” he replied dismissively. “Surely the Captain's lackeys can handle whatever mundane issue has arisen without my—”

“The captain was quite adamant,” the caller interrupted. “It's an emergency meeting with all senior staff. Your attendance is mandatory and immediate.”

Snikers's ears perked up, his brows furrowing slightly.