Admiral Rodriguez slowly walks through the lower decks of the Bloodbearer, a datapad in his hand, performing routine maintenance on the Bloodbearer's coolant systems. Dozens of thin steel pipes line the walls, each one sending liquid nitrogen and other similar compounds to various parts of the ship.

As the Admiral walks, he taps the datapad, holds it up to the wall, waits a moment, then walks a little further down the wall before repeating the process again.

After several minutes of slowly inching his way down, a beeping noise emits from the datapad.

"Mmm. Found it..." José mutters. He pulls out a toolkit and gets to work cutting into the steel wall with a delicate nano-laser-cutter. He slices through with a fiery beam, then digs in and pulls out the wall's core to reveal a batch of fried internal wiring.

"Tsk. Looks like we've picked up some unwanted passengers from Tarus II..." The Admiral grunts.

Inside the wall, dozens of tiny little bugs skitter around, none of them resembling the xenotypes which originated from Terrankind's motherworld. Some of them appear as amorphous jelly-like blobs, while others resemble octopii with dozens of giant eyes on their head.

The bugs scatter and flee as the Admiral reaches in and activates a small canister of poison gas. He exterminates the majority of them, but more than a few scurry deeper into the wall through cracks they previously burrowed.

"God damnit," José sighs. "They're eating the para-cabling. Fuck. Little assholes. It's always something... Umi, assign a level 4 cleanup and extermination team to this area. Make sure they move thoroughly."

"Affirmative, Admiral," Umi says from above. "I will dispatch five Kessu crew at once. By the way, Admiral, I have this month's Crew Assimilation Reports ready, if you would like to see them."

José stares, annoyed, at the wall for a moment before nodding his head.

"Crew reports... sure, why not."

Umi transmits a series of images and graphs to his brain.

"The Kessu and Kraktol crew you brought aboard nine months ago have reached a 45% assimilation level. Numerous petty fights over territory still occur daily, with some of them turning to violence, but First Officer Soren has managed to quell the uprisings each time. We've punished the dissenters and subjected them to Bonding Exercises on the holodeck, which has produced favorable results."

"Hmm... seems we'll hit fifty percent by the year's end..." José says. "It's better than the twenty percent we started with. I hope that by the time we reach the Core, this crew will have finally united."

José flips through the injury reports and shakes his head. "These two crew members involved another group of people in their dispute. Subject them to one level of extra demerits. Also, these three caused a huge mess in the lunch hall, wasting rations needlessly. I want them all working together in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes for the next month."

"Yes, Admiral," Umi replies. "However, given that we have holographic personnel to take care of those duties..."

"Manual labor is good for the soul," José answers. "I've met the instigator of that fight before. He thinks he's a real tough croc, picking on little Kessu. If we force him to scrub dishes with them, it might humble him a bit and make him think twice the next time he picks a fight."

"I understand, Admiral. I will assign the tasks at once. Regarding Disciplinary Officer Baaru's work with the personnel, I would also like to report a 5% increase in her Officer Familial Rating. It seems that she has earned the respect of more than 75% of the crew with her swift and decisive actions. She acts fairly and impartially when arbitrating disputes, according to the monthly crew polls I have received."

"Good. I knew Baaru was up to the task. And what about Patriarch Nyoor? Have we found any usable life extension treatments for him?"

"Affirmative, Admiral. I have researched and uncovered three possible methods with crew member Lele's assistance. We estimate a ninety-five percent possibility of extending crew member Nyoor's lifespan by ten years, a thirty percent possibility of extending it up to fifty years, and a five percent possibility of extending past sixty years."

José sighs, long and hard. "Only five percent... if his bones and body weren't already so severely aged, the extension methods would prove more effective. Well, even another ten years will be a blessing for him. Do what you can, Umi."

"Orders received, Admiral."

Umi falls silent, while José continues pulling out the dead bug corpses.

Twenty minutes later, the pitter-patter of paw-pads reaches José's ears. He turns to see a group of five Kessu walking toward him.

"Meow! Meow! Big Baldy!" One of the Kessu calls out.

José turns to look at them. "Lele! Rags! How are you kittens doing, eh?"

The male Kessu meows at José. "We're doing well, Great Precursor! Mroww!"

When Lele draws closer, she drops a toolkit on the floor, then bounces over to José and hugs his leg excitedly. "I haven't seen you in forever, Big Baldy! Meow! Meow! Have you heard the good news??"

José pets her head affectionately, making sure to scratch her ears. "Haha, specifically?"

"My daddy met a nice lady from one of the colonies they rescued! She's gonna be my new mommy! She's super nice, likes to cook, and has really pretty orange fur!"

"That's great news!" José says, smiling broadly. "You and your dad deserve some happiness. Do you get along with her?"

Lele pulls away. "Of course! Although..."

Her ears flatten slightly.

"Well, I mean, I do worry my real mommy might not be... she might be angry. I don't know if it's okay for daddy to... you know..."

José maintains his smile. "Your mother would want your father to be happy. Someday, when you and your dad go to join her in the Great Beyond, she'll be happy to meet you both again, as well as the woman who captured his heart a second time. Just think of it as expanding your family. You have to enjoy all those wonderful moments in life so you can make your mother proud."

Lele's ears prick back up. "You think so? Okay! I'll make sure she and daddy are both happy, then!"

"That's what I like to hear," José says. "Now, since you two are here, I'll show you the work I need done."

...

An hour later, José trudges through the Bloodbearer's shuttle decks. He spots a group of human-shaped robots, each one slightly smaller than him, working on renovating one of the Bloodbearer's 50th Era exocraft.

"Synthmind 4131," José says. "Status on the shuttle upgrades?"

The nearest robot turns to José and nods its head. "Admiral Rodriguez. This synthmind has finished repairing [SEVENTY THREE POINT NINE] percent of the vessels inside the Bloodbearer's shuttle bays. Additionally, I have upgraded the firepower and maneuverability of several combat-type interceptors by a magnitude of [ONE POINT THREE]. I estimate that if we were to go by the standardized performance ratings of the [FIFTIETH] Era, these vessels would qualify as [FIFTY-FIRST] Era fighters."

José pauses mid-step. His jaw drops.

"What did you say? You upgraded their effectiveness to the point that we could consider them 51st Era spacecraft? Are you joking with me?"

Synthmind 4131 stares at the Admiral unblinkingly. "Negative. This synthmind is not programmed to emulate Terran humor. I have increased the speed and maneuverability of several craft by more than [THIRTY-ONE] percent, and their ship-to-ship firepower effectiveness ratings by more than [FORTY-SEVEN] percent. While I have not been able to add any new combat features, thus preventing them from counting as true [FIFTY-FIRST] era vessels, in terms of performance improvements, they certainly reach a level comparable to a new era of firepower."

The Admiral's throat momentarily turns dry and chalky. A strange look appears in his eyes before he lowers his head to fall into thought.

"Every era's advancement of technical capabilities required a tremendous amount of time and research to make even the slightest headway. Advancing from the 49th Era to the 50th Era took much longer than advancing from the 48th to the 49th. To say you've made a monumental improvement in a short time would be to undersell your accomplishment. Just... just how exactly did you do it?"

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Synthmind 4131 continues to stare blankly at the Admiral. "As a self-improving bio-vessel, my ability to combine and compound existing technologies for the sake of my advancement must be exceptional. With some assistance from First Officer Soren and Crew member Lorrie, I was able to make several breakthroughs in my internal algorithms. Had they not contributed several important observations to my queries, I would have required significantly more time to complete my task."

Admiral Rodriguez eyes the robot for a moment, nodding to himself.

"It seems I underestimated your capabilities, as well as Soren and Lorrie's both. Keep up the excellent work, 4131. It seems that as an Admiral, I've still much to learn."

"Affirmative, Admiral. I will return to my designated task."

The robot turns away from José to continue improving the vessel in front of it. After a few moments of quiet, satisfied sighing, José turns and walks away.

"Not merely one, but multiple 51st Era interceptors. What insanity. I never thought I would be able to witness the advancement of a technological epoch in my lifetime. The 49th Era required 400,000 years of human advancement to break through to the 50th, while I was only born 50,000 years afterward. Logically speaking, the 51st Era would have required at least another 350,000 years, if not far more, to arrive."

José pauses. He slows to a stop in the middle of the hangar bay, a distant look in his eyes.

"...Just what exactly is the Slipstream? To advance its capabilities from the 14th Era to the 50th in only a year, and then to improve an entire technology's epoch in even less time... its origin can't be simple. Who built it? And for what purpose?"

José chews on his lip, but eventually gives up, unable to think of a good answer.

"Probably some genius scientist with a brain far beyond mine. Too bad he's long since died to the passage of time. All good things must eventually end."

...

The Admiral continues walking the ship, checking readouts, chatting with the crew, and otherwise keeping himself busy. With so many areas of the Bloodbearer still needing maintenance and repairs, there's never something aboard his ship that doesn't need doing.

As José rounds a corner, his augmented hearing picks up a disturbance in the distance. The sounds of male and female voices shouting drift toward him, making him scowl.

"Another fight? Blasted cats and crocs. Can't you guys just get along?"

José picks up his pace, power-walking to the scene, where he enters a room to find half a dozen Kessu and Kraktol egging on a pair of people growling and hissing at each other. On one side, a grey-scaled Kraktol, one whom José instantly recognizes as Grundle, shakes his fist at his smaller opponent, a female tabby-cat José doesn't recognize.

"-from me!" The Kessu meows. "That was my multitool, mraaaw! Give it back!"

"I didn't take your multitool, graugh! Stupid Kessu!" Grundle chuffs. "Why would I take a tool I don't even know how to use?! You're just trying to blame me for your bad memory!"

"I saw you nab it with my own eyes! Are you calling me a liar?" The Kessu hisses. "If you don't give it back, I'll sicc Ruuki on you! He'll clean your clock real good!"

José steps forward and raises his palms. "Alright, you two. That's enough. Tell me what happened."

Grundle, seeing his idol appear, momentarily becomes tongue-tied. Having risen from the absolute bottom of Kraktol society to his current heights as José's subordinate, he carries a deep reverence for the Admiral within his heart. Before he can start to plead his case, the Kessu interjects.

"I'll tell you what happened! This slimy worm-face went behind my back and stole my ding-damn multitool! I need that for repairs! I can't believe the nerve of these Kraktol, they're always so sneaky and conniving!"

The Kessu's casual insult makes Grundle lose some of the color in his scales. "Look, lady, it's like I said. I never took your multitool! I don't even know how to use them! Why can't you just listen to reason?! Graugh!"

José rolls his eyes. There are always troublemakers in any group...

Out loud, he says, "Umi, pull up the internal recording logs for this section. Who took the multitool?"

Umi replies immediately. "Admiral, according to the logs, nobody did. Crew member Keela left it in her quarters."

The Kessu blinks in surprise. "...I did? Nuh-uh! There's no way! I definitely remember bringing it with me! I set it down on those benches over there!"

"Incorrect. The multitool you brought with you was not your own. Three days ago, you picked up crew member Ghibli's multitool, in addition to your own, and brought them back to your quarters. You have been using Ghibli's multitool for the past three days, perhaps in error. As such, Ghibli spotted the tool, recognized that it was his, and took it back. He is now working in the Planetary Assault Bay."

Keela's face turns crestfallen. "W-wait... I'm the thief here? Mraw! That's... ah! I am so sorry, Grundle! I didn't mean... I shouldn't have...!"

José sighs. "Any crew member can request logs from the publicly-accessible areas. In the future, check with Umi before jumping to conclusions. I'll have to punish you for your unfounded accusations toward Grundle. Join up with the crew in the mess hall to scrub dishes for the next two weeks. I trust you will know what to do after that."

Keela's ears fall flat. "...Yes, Great Precursor."

José groans to himself, then continues on his merry way. As he starts to leave the area, he hears the stomping of feet behind him.

"Admiral! Admiral!" Grundle shouts excitedly. "I've been super busy lately, but um... thank you for your help back there!"

Still walking, José merely turns his head and nods. "Any time, Grundle. I see you've kept up with your physical training. By now, you've probably reached a strength comparable to former First Officer, Megla."

The short, lean, muscled Kraktol nods as he falls into stride beside the Terran. "Graugh! I work every day according to your training regimen. However, I have recently started feeling stifled. It feels as if... as if I have reached some sort of plateau in my strength. It seems no matter how hard I try, I cannot break past the B-class simulations. I know the movements of most enemies, but my body cannot keep up with them. Admiral, do you have any training methods that can help me push past my limits?"

Finally, José stop walking. He turns to Grundle, then narrows his eyes. All sorts of ocular implants activate in José's eyes as he sweeps his gaze up and down the Kraktol's body.

"...Hm. I underestimated your resolve. You have indeed achieved the peak level of strength that your body can handle. At this point, you can only increase your fighting potential in small ways."

Grundle's excited smile fades. "Oh. Graugh... then... is this the strongest I will ever be? Will I be stuck as I am now for the rest of my life? What about Kisa? She was way stronger than all the rest of my people. Surely, there must be some way I can match up to her, Admiral!"

José's expression turns grave. "Indeed, there is. Originally, I assumed I wouldn't need to use it until the third or fourth year. However, since you have asked, I must warn you now... the next method will be ten times more painful than any previous training you've undergone. Are you willing to suffer immeasurably, so long as it will result in breaking through the limits of your biology?"

The Kraktol stares at José intently. His expression becomes both solemn and serious as he nods.

"Graugh. Of course, Admiral. I would give my life to protect you. As I am now, I will never be capable of shielding you, let alone matching your power. No matter how dangerous the training, I will work myself to the bone for you."

José smiles. A sense of warmth spreads through his heart as he quietly rests his hand on Grundle's shoulder.

"Truly, you are a rare gem, Grundle. For you to have slaved as a mere mechanic under Drall all those years... tsk. What a waste."

The Admiral takes a deep breath, then turns away and continues to walk.

"Grundle. What is the most important mental ability a soldier must possess?"

"Willpower, sir," Grundle replies, remembering José's previous lessons.

"That's right. Willpower and fortitude. One must be willing to spit in the eyes of pain and death. Fear is a tool one can use to temper themselves. Fear is merely an instinctive reaction the body releases to make one aware of gaps in power between themselves and their opponents. Willpower is what makes that same warrior capable of pushing past the fear to become unstoppable. A truly terrifying warrior will kick, claw, and bite even when they have no hope of winning."

José pauses to take a breath.

"Your initial training is complete, Grundle. Your body will no longer increase in strength at any sizable level, no matter what you do. However, if we were to... augment your capabilities... you might find that your frail body has merely completed the first step of its biological evolution."

"Admiral?" Grundle asks, confusion mixed with hope. "You are augmented. Do your words mean that...?"

"Correct. I will make you the first Kraktol to obtain augments similar to mine," José replies. "But... do not immediately rejoice. I am not a scientist. I am not a biologist. Any records the Bloodbearer might possess regarding Terran biology will surely prove all but useless when it comes to your Kraktol biology. This means that creating functional implants for you will require time and effort."

José leads Grundle to the nearest medical bay, but stops just outside the door.

"To augment your body, we will have to dig into the very core of your muscles and bones. We will have to perform horrific, agonizing experiments on you for the sake of locating the most effective places for implants to lodge themselves. This means you will become a guinea pig, a subject we experiment on who may even die from the sheer trauma of these operations. Worse yet, we can only perform these surgeries on someone like you, who has attained the peak of his body's power. We cannot use someone with underdeveloped and untrained muscles. Any experimentation on such weak-bodied subjects will result in useless garbage data, rendering them useless for boosting your might."

For a moment, Grundle says nothing. He merely eyes the Admiral resolutely before nodding.

"I understand."

"Do you?" José asks, turning to look the young Kraktol in his eyes. "I have suffered the agony of a Level Four surgery. Luckily, that was in my past life, and not my newly revived body. I believe such agonizing pain would have caused me traumatic nightmares and shellshock for weeks afterward, if not months and years. Frankly, if you don't think you're up to it, you should back out now. You already rival the top tiers of pure Kraktol power. To go any further will require immense sacrifices on your part. You will not achieve the strength you seek without suffering long-lasting mental scars."

Grundle closes his eyes and bows his head.

"I know what I must do, Admiral. Whether I live or I die, everything I have achieved and will someday achieve is all due to you. I must repay you for the gifts you've given me at any cost. The only way to do so is if I become a pillar upon which you can rely. Graugh! I have made up my mind. Do whatever you must, but make sure you succeed. If I die on the operating table, I will never allow my soul to enter the Forbidden Swamp in peace."

Seeing the resolute look in the young Kraktol's eyes, José merely nods.

"So be it. Umi. Request assistance from crew members Lele and Lorrie, as well as Officer Soren. I will need their technical expertise for this surgery."

"Affirmative, Admiral. I believe that with their assistance, the installation process's chance of success rests above 30%."

Grundle stares at the medical bay blankly.

"...And if the operation fails? Will I die?"

"The likelihood is low. Instead, you will potentially become a cripple, unable to fight ever again, restrained to a hoverchair."

Grundle blanches. He glances at José and clears his throat.

"I will pray to the Kraktol Ancestors that you succeed, Admiral. Graugh!"

"As will I," José affirms.