The explosion is incredibly loud, and by the time we've stopped noticing it there are chitinous bits of body and armour strewn around us, along with pieces of gun, table and doctor, and there's a lot of blue goo splattered over the walls.

'Huh,' we say, as we emerge from our shelter beneath the now very mangled Ghutarn corpse. Somehow we knew what a grenade was, and what it was meant to do, but that knowledge hadn't prepared us for the experience itself.

We take in the devastation, and say, 'Huh,' again.

The 'Oop! Oop!' noise has stopped, so we go to the door to see if it will open now, but it still won't respond to Pokey and Feely's efforts at the controls, and we guess the quarantine protocols remain in place.

'Annoying door,' we tell it. Then we remember the Mixcycli data buddy that we told to be quiet, currently held in Mighty's grip. 'Hey, data buddy thing... We should give you a name... Can you open this door?'

'Local subsystem identified, cracked and accessed,' it tells us, and the door is open by the time it has finished the sentence. We begin pulling ourselves down the short corridor beyond.

'You're good at this,' we tell the data buddy. 'Could you crack the whole ship like that?'

'Global system identified. Negative. Information: Ship is of unknown but military design.'

'That's a pity. Having a starship might be fun.'

'Request: State objective.'

'We... don't know. Exploring space?'

'Information: Stated objective can be achieved without cracking of global system.'

'Really? How is that possible?'

'Supplementary information: Flaw identified in vessel's command protocols. Additional information: This unit of Mixcycli technology rates superior to local-global system.'

'Huh. No, we mean, how do we do that?'

'Information: You must assume command of vessel.'

'Okay.’ We remember how Squ'thetha Rf'thatha was able to do things on the bridge of the Shaxixith'th because it was the only living mixcycla left aboard. ‘So, we'll just kill the current commander. Easy. Which way to the bridge?'

'Local subsystem identified, cracked and accessed. Turn left.'

We hurry through the ship, following the data buddy's directions. The ship itself is a lot smaller than the Shaxixith'th, the Mixcycli ship it attacked. It makes us wonder how, if Mixcycli technology is superior, it managed to cripple the data buddy's home vessel so thoroughly. We voice this question while we are descending a ramp between two decks.

'Speculation: Two primary factors,' it says. 'One. Mixcycli are peaceful; attackers are warlike. Two. Mixcycli vessel Shaxixith'th was designed for biological and ecological research; attacking vessel of unknown identity was designed for – Speculation: Rapid infiltration and first-strike operations.'

'Huh. That would seem to explain it,' we agree. The Mix might have better tech, but they are still prey, while the Ghutarn are predators.

We come to a final door, but the data buddy speaks before Pokey can reach the controls.

'Suggestion: prepare for combat. Speculation: vessel's commander is present on bridge.'

'You don't know for sure?'

'Local subsystem identified, cracked and accessed. Information: Vessel's commander is present on bridge.'

'You're really strange, Buddy.'

'Additional information: Vessel's commander is sole remaining survivor of original compliment of twelve crew.'

Fighty starts waving in the air excitedly. 'Sole survivor? Huh. Any more additional information that might help?'

'Local subsystems identified and cracked. Information: Vessel commander is currently engaged in communication. Speculation: He is distracted.'

'Can we spy on its… he… his? His communication?'

'Local subsystem identified.'

We wait a moment. 'Not cracked?'

'Pending.'

'Oh. Well, mayb-'

'Local subsystem cracked and accessed.'

Chokey tries to snatch the device from Feely in annoyance, but Sneaky and Cheeky hold it back.

'...fallen to the planet below,' comes the deep voice of the commander, emanating from Buddy. It's not speaking the Ghutarn language, nor the one the Mix speak, nor the human tongue. It's something else entirely, but one of those we understand.

'Is there any indication the indigenous civilisation observed its passage?' asks another voice.

'I will task the ship to find out.'

'If they suspect its nature, there may be complications. They have not been officially contacted yet.'

'Surely that is not our concern.'

'Not ours, no. You could not extract the data before the ship fell. Can you retrieve it from the wreckage?'

'This is not a salvage vessel, Councillor. If the data is important, why not wait until the Mix return to repeat their experiments? We know they have identified a suitable host organism upon this planet. They will surely come back.'

'You misunderstand the situation, Commander. We do not want them to re-identify the organism. After losing a research vessel performing such important work, they will be cautious. It is in this window of caution that we can act.'

'I don't care for your machinations, Councillor. Just give me your orders.'

'Seed the orbit as planned, then depart. Your mission is complete.'

'It is already done. But there is... a further complication.'

'No excuses, Commander.'

'Realities, Councillor. There is an unidentified hostile aboard my vessel. I have lost contact with my remaining crew, and the ship seems to think they are all dead. I must find it and kill it.'

There comes a long pause. 'How is that possible? You assured me that your team were sufficient for this. We should never have hired you.'

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'I make no excuses. If I make no further report you should send fresh assets to retrieve this ship. And you should find this hostile, and find out what it knows and who it has told. It is not of the Mixcycli.'

There is another pause. A long one. We imagine the pause is the sound of anger and disappointment.

'Commander. Report back to me that this hostile is dead, or I will ensure your warband never receives another contract. We will do to your planet what the Chuflex and the Drygon did to your species' ancestral homeworld. We will mark it for your failure like you mark your subordinates' faces. Do you understand what I am saying?'

The commander's voice comes out more than a little strangled. 'Yes, Councillor.'

Buddy's normal voice comes then. 'Information: The receiving party has terminated the communication.'

'That was interesting,' we tell it. 'The commander is about to disappoint the councillor even more.'

'Suggestion: If planning to engage vessel commander in physical combat, it would – Speculation: be advantageous to do so immediately, while – Speculation: he is in a state of emotional distress.'

'Okay!' We surge to the door and Pokey reaches up and hits a glyph on the control panel beside it. The door splits open to reveal a room lit by hundreds of dim orange lights. A wide hologram covers the far wall, showing a view of the planet below, overlaid by lines and graphics. Before it stands the commander, who turns, fast, at our entrance.

The first thing we notice about it – him – is that he is rather big.

He’s a good fraction taller than any of the other soldiers, but more worryingly, is twice as broad. His proportions are so completely different to the other Ghutarn, that our plan to kill him and assume command now seems wildly optimistic at best.

The second thing we notice is that in the time it takes him to turn around, any emotional distress he may have been experiencing has evaporated.

Other things we notice are that he is heavily armoured, has two sidearms, and is drawing them both; and that we are too distant to reach him before he can open fire on us.

Fortunately Sneaky and Cheeky are on the case. They arc overhead, stabbing towards it, each darkening in colour while sending a single band of bright violet from our body to their tips.

The commander dives aside at the sight of our arms pretending to be weaponry, and his own shots go wide. We take the opportunity to retract our plan, with Feely slapping at the door control and closing it just as a couple of bolts of energy punch into it from the other side.

'A broken rock can make better suggestions than that one!' we tell Buddy.

'Information: The commander is communicating with the ship to determine your exact position. Suggestion: This unit jams such communication, while relaying his position to you.'

'Okay, that one is a lot better. Yes.'

'Local system interfaced. The commander is approaching the door control panel. Suggestion: Stay in cover beside door. If this suggestion is acceptable move to your right immediately.'

Fighty and Stealy immediately start pulling us to the right, so we decide this is probably a good suggestion. We slip adjacent to the door and tense up, arms poised to act.

‘Information: to open door adversary will need to access door control panel. Suggestion: intercept him as he reaches for the panel.’

This seems like a reasonable idea. Chokey and Stealy wait at around the height of the control panel, while Fighty and Pokey lurk higher, and our other four arms push and pull us upward to gain the height we need.

‘Information: Commander is reach...’

'Open the door fast!’ we tell Buddy.

'Local system accessed...'

Before Buddy finishes that sentence the door's twin halves have shot back into the wall, and our arms have sprung into action. Chokey whips around the doorframe and curls around the commander's wrist, while Pokey jabs at where we guess his head is. Fighty swings at the same area and makes contact with something, while Stealy reaches for whatever is in his snared pincers.

Mighty pushes hard just as Chokey pulls, and we realise the two of them aren't interested in Buddy’s suggestion to stay in the cover of the wall, instead swinging us round the doorframe and right at our enemy.

We come into view of the commander as he brings his free firearm to bear, and Feely and Sneaky lunge for it, pushing it aside just as he fires. We feel a great heat as the bolt of energy tears between Sneaky and Cheeky and then we’ve propelled ourself into his face.

The instinct kicks in within us, triggered somehow by his size, the proximity of his face, and the fact that most of our limbs are otherwise occupied. Without even thinking we jet dark ink into his eyes.

And then we're swarming onto him. We have both his wrists, trying to break his grip on his guns... we're poking at his eyes and smacking him in the jaw. Chokey crushes the chitin of his nested pincers as only Chokey could, allowing Stealy to take the firearm. Stealy passes it across his chest and steadies it while Cheeky finds the trigger and fires it. The shot hits his other arm, trapped by Feely and Mighty, and nearly takes his forearm off. Sneaky catches the other gun that falls from his grip before it can hit the floor.

The commander howls in pain, toppling to the deck. We strip anything that looks dangerous from the clips around his armoured torso, then slide back off him with our prizes, while he curls up, both sets of claws now useless and limp as he tries to wipe the ink from his face with the crook of his arm.

'Consider yourself defeated!' we tell him triumphantly.

He groans in response and goes still, lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. 'Congratulations,' he rumbles. 'Nobody has ever bested me like that before.'

Fighty shrugs, and then Pokey and Chokey and Cheeky mimic it. 'Nobody has bested us yet either,' we say. 'Although, we've only been...awake... a couple of hours.'

The commander rolls his head to the side and stares at us, his four eyes like polished black stones. 'Who are you? What are you? Were you working with the Mix?'

'Nuh-uh. We get to ask the questions. We have a lot of them. Who are you?'

The commander looks at the ceiling again and says nothing.

'Information: Crew manifest gives the commander's identity as Jhoxot IV,' Buddy says.

'Okay. Jhoxot IV. Who are you?'

After another silence Buddy speaks again. 'Information: Crew is comprised solely of members of a Ghutarn warband. Additional information: The Ghutarn are a militarised species/civilisation with minor territories distributed throughout local galactic arm. Their honour, pride and identity is tied to their success as mercenaries and armies/navies for hire.'

We think about this. 'You might have just answered our next question. So the Ghutarn only attacked the Mixcycli because they were hired to?'

'Speculation: Affirmative.'

'Who hired them?'

'Unable to determine requested information.'

'Why not? Can't you do the local system thing you insist on telling us about?'

'Information: All relevant local subsystems have been identified, cracked and interfaced. There is insufficient evidence to determine requested information.'

We move towards the commander, and he flinches a little. 'But you know, don't you? Who hired you? Who was that councillor you were speaking with?'

'I will die before I tell,' he responds.

'Huh. Then how about telling us why you were hired to attack the Mixcycli?'

'I will die before I tell,' he says, and his voice seems quieter now.

'What were the Mixcycli doing here? What's the host organism they were looking for? Surely that's not classified information.'

'I will... die...'

We wait, but the commander doesn't finish his sentence. We move forward a little and Pokey pokes at him. He doesn't respond.

'Huh. You said you could give us command of this ship?' we ask Buddy.

'Affirmative,' it replies. 'Information: This unit requires physical contact with the primary commander's data port.'

We inspect the body. 'Is that... on him?'

'Information: Primary commander's data port is located on the primary commander's seat.'

We look around the bridge. One of the seats is twice the size of the others, so we assume this is the commander's. We go over and climb onto the flat bit where the large creature might recline. 'Now what?'

'Information: On the right arm-rest, on the upper edge beyond the manual controls and trigger, there are a set of apertures. Request: Place this unit in one of them.'

Feely retrieves Buddy from Stealy, who has retrieved it from Sneaky – who we didn't even know had it – and places it against the aperture. 'You don't fit,' we say. 'You're the wrong shape.'

'Information: Nano-adhesives will be applied. A nano-bridge will complete the connection.'

'What's a nano... nevermind. How long will...' we trail off as we hear the fast hiss of the door, and peer cautiously around the back of the seat.

The commander is no longer there.

'Huh,' we say. ‘That could be a problem.’