The shuttle was in serious need of airing out with all the sweaty crewmembers stuffed together. Only those who absolutely had to were riding back up in the cargo shuttle since the wranntil smelled even worse than the collection of body odors Lus sat between.

Luckily it was a short journey back to the Argo, especially with Oaty at the helm.

“I’m impressed that those sticks can produce so much speed,” Wsr said as she pounded her meaty hand on Lus’s knee. “You might be even faster than a cobrom.”

“Maybe a pet cobrom that’s gotten fat from too many rats,” Nippy replied from the comfortable front seat beside the pilot’s helm. He got the nice seat due to his rank, but his incredible size meant it was more comfortable for everyone else who didn’t have to squish one of the largest Kremel on the crew into the bench seats as well.

He flashed a toothy grin to Lus as he swiveled to face the back rows stuffed full of his planet team. “But honestly, good job everyone on pulling this one off without a single casualty. That perfect score means Oaty owes me fifty cryptin.”

“I was sure someone would lose a limb. Three wranntils were involved after all,” the man muttered while his eyes darted across the various screens before him.

A large forcefield-enforced window at the front allowed all of the crew to view the great black expanse he guided the shuttle through, while a small gray dot represented the Argo. Of course sensors were far more useful for piloting, so Oaty remained focused on the holoscreens.

“Well Zer-Dasht did get a little mud on his scales, so he might as well have died,” Wsr teased the Nemarian.

Dasht frowned, his orange scales rippling in displeasure. “I think someone is projecting. Wsr is the one who complained of breaking a fingernail while hucking boulders.”

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have any nails at all,” the woman spat back.

“Enough,” Nippy’s voice boomed through the cramped space, halting the argument before it could escalate to another “My Species is Inherently Better Than Yours” debate.

“Come on, Oaty. What’s with the sightseeing pace? At this rate the cargo ship’s going to make it back before us,” Cewi complained to break up the tension which remained in the air.

From his middle seat between two thick Kremel, Lus saw the side of Oaty’s mouth twitch into a malicious smile, and he thought one last prayer to the Watcher. What a day to draw out not one but two prayers to a being he wasn’t even sure he believed in.

The pilot didn’t bother responding to the Nemarian as he instead adjusted his grip on the steering stick to use only one his right hand as his left went to the throttle.

Nippy opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of the engine going to maximum drowned out whatever orders he had as Oaty pushed the shuttle into a breakneck acceleration. Lus was thrown back against his seat, and a yelp escaped him as Wsr’s arm slammed into him, crushing whatever air remained in his lungs.

The small gray dot magnified several dozen times as the shuttle zoomed towards it, and Lusac’s stomach barely held together through the various flips and spins Oaty put the crew through. The artificial gravity was never meant to work under such fancy maneuvers, and by the second loop, it had shut off completely, which somehow made Lus even more nauseous.

Oaty pulled the throttle back, which turned on the decelerators just as the hull of the Argo filled the entire front window. Various shouts and curses filled the small space before Nippy finally silenced everyone.

“Were the spins really necessary, Oaty?” he asked.

“Of course they were. I was avoiding debris,” Oaty defended himself with a completely innocent look on his face. He ran one hand through his jet-black hair which left it floating at odd angles in the zero-gravity environment.

The Kremel growled. “None that I saw.”

Wsr dislodged her arm from Lusac’s chest, allowing him to take a deep breath and regain some control over his stomach before his vomit joined the chunks others had already spilled.

His body ached slightly as the artificial gravity stuttered back to life, and for half a minute, the shuttle flashed between zero-g and full gravity every few seconds, drawing more complaints from the crew as the throw up rained down on the unlucky ones.

Oaty whistled a happy little tune, completely unperturbed by the disgruntled noises behind him, as he steered the ship to the open bay doors of the Argo. He landed the craft, and it was a race between the grunts to see who could exit the tight, smelly space first. Lus was grateful for his smaller size as he dodged between the burly Kremel to escape very first alongside Cewi and Dasht.

Bay Alpha was used for all the transportation shuttles as well as shuttle maintenance making it the largest hangar on the Argo. Three extra shuttles were stored in a vertical row along the far wall while two more were on the maintenance pads on the other side of the bay. The hangar was three stories tall, with a complicated crane system woven into the ceiling.

The floor was an inky black and the walls gleamed with the silvery gray of alunitanium. The lights were a little dim and the temperature a little cold for Lus’s taste, and in general all Humans’ taste, but given they made up the minority of the crew, it made sense for the lighting and atmosphere settings to cater to the Nemarians and Kremel, both of which preferred low lights and cool temperatures. Luckily Lus’s mission suit protected him well enough against the air conditioning, and he’d long since adjusted to navigating under less than ideal lighting.

“Come on, Lus. Let’s watch them unload the wranntil,” Cewi urged him.

“Ugh. I think I’ve had enough wranntil to last me for a few years,” he replied.

“Don’t be such a baby now.” Nippy clapped him on the shoulder. “Besides, Captain wants us all there just in case a problem arises.”

More groans rose from the space-sick mission crew, but no one dared defy Captain Tave. Even Oaty joined the mass as they wandered into the corridor and down to the next big door that represented Bay Beta, the cargo bay.

Its general appearance was much the same as Bay Alpha with the dark floors, gray walls, and low lighting, but it was only about two-thirds as big, and large metal containers lined one wall while the second cargo ship was hanging from the ceiling. The cargo ship they’d taken down to the planet had just landed, evident by its gears still completing its final calibrations before the doors opened to the storage hold.

“Oi, Loser. Heard you were nearly wranntil chow,” an irksome voice called out as Lus stepped into the open hangar. “I guess you’re not as fast as you think, eh?”

Lus resignedly sighed and turned to face Relf, his nemesis since the moment he joined the Runner crew.

“The key word in there is ‘nearly’, Relf. Don’t know if you noticed, but I did make it back in one piece,” Lus pointed out.

“You’d be dead if it weren’t for Cewi-Bano always babying you,” Relf sneered with a hint of jealousy in his tone.

Ah, so today his problem with Lus had to do with his crush on the very out of his league Nemarian sharpshooter/third-in-command. It tended to cycle between that, the fact that Lus was an actual contributing member of the crew, and that most of the non-Human crewmembers liked Lus better than Relf despite the fact that Relf had been part of the crew for twice as long.

“You know, I didn’t have the chance this time, but next time I’m off ship, I’ll see about bringing back a sample of dung for Wlnp to cook up for you. We all know how much you love eating crap,” Lus responded with a grin. The bay master shouted at Relf about whatever task he was slacking off on, saving Lus from enduring more half-baked insults.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

And speaking of the Argo’s cook, Lus noted the grumpy Kremel muttering to himself as he dug through one of the crates from the recent food deposit. His gray skin was more folds and wrinkles than not, and his ears were lower on his face from the drooping of age, but anyone who knew Chef Wlnp knew that his age did nothing to slow him down. In fact, according to the most experienced crew, age had only served to increase Wlnp’s temper and decrease whatever patience he used to have.

Lus wanted to question why the cook was here at all given the dangerous creature that was about to be unloaded, but the shouts of those around him drew his attention back to the main focus of the hangar. The cargo ship’s door opened to reveal the tranquilized wranntil still tightly wrapped in the gravity net, though the net had to remain deactivated while on the ship so as to not interfere with the artificial gravity.

Yrqw immediately began barking orders to the nearby Kremel as the cargolift approached the unconscious mass. A fifteen foot by fifteen foot metal square a few dozen yards deeper into the hangar denoted the forcefield cage that would hold the beast until they could deliver it. Just a couple hundred feet with the wranntil in the open, and then it would be safely stowed away.

Several of the underling Kremel started hauling the wranntil off the cargo ship and towards the lift. Lus winced at every bump and jolt, recalling his moments in the nest not too long before. He released a long sigh in relief as they loaded the beast onto the cargolift and turned to make a comment to Cewi-Bano who stood beside him when someone shouted in concern.

“It’s awake!”

Every crewmember launched into action, though for Lus that meant reaching for the small laser gun at his belt. It was even less powerful than Cewi’s blasters, but it was all he had for defense. The wranntil screeched as it struggled against the net. Without the use of the enhanced gravity, the creature easily tore through the thick wire cords and rose up to its full height with another cry.

It swung its claws out wildly to the Kremel who were approaching it, Yrqw holding the tranq gun himself this time, and it managed to knock all of them out of the way before charging away from the cargolift and the cage that should have been holding it.

“Blast it,” Cewi cursed under her breath as she pulled her heaviest gun from her back. “Lus get the cook out of here.”

Laser bolts struck the creature from every side, but that only served to enrage it further as it started rampaging through the supplies. Lus looked over to see the angry fists of Chef Wlnp in the air, waving at the beast as though it were a ruffian child.

“Blasted old codger,” he muttered to himself as he dashed to the Kremel, ignoring the protests from his exhausted legs. Watcher knew that the ship couldn’t lose its only cook. Two dozen unfed Kremel sounded like the start of a slasher horror film.

He was only a few feet away from grabbing the elderly Kremel when something appeared in his peripheral. There was no time to react as Relf bowled into him, sending him straight to the ground as the chubby man sprinted to cover, away from the wranntil and away from the chef.

Lus jumped to his feet, but he was too late to accomplish his mission. The wranntil scooped up Wlnp, and despite the numerous laser bolts and flares pounding into its hide, the beast raised his prize to his jagged teeth. Lus grimaced as the chef continued to shout profanities at the creature, clinging to his stubbornness even in the face of death. In the next instant, black blood rained down onto the floor, and after a second bite, Chef Wlnp was gone.

“Get out of there, Lus,” someone shouted, spurring Lusac to spin ninety degrees and dodge the incoming hand as it swiped at him. His body found new strength as he considered how much he did not want to end up like the ship’s chef.

“It’s following you. Lead it back to the cage,” another called out above the blaster fire.

“Blast it all. Watcher kill me already,” Lus breathed between gasps as he tried to follow the advice. Within a few seconds he’d crossed to the other side of the bay where the square stood, waiting for its victim to step inside so the force fields could fire up.

Lusac ducked and rolled behind the nearest cover as the wranntil roared behind him and the hair on his neck warned that those claws had been very close to reaching him.

Once he caught his breath, he crouched a little higher to peer over the control console that shielded him to see several Kremel crewmates throwing themselves into the wranntil in an attempt to herd it to the would-be cage.

He was genuinely impressed with how well the tactic was working, until they got it within a step of the platform, that was. Somehow the wranntil seemed to sense the danger that one more step back would bring to it and refused to budge, even with the bloody, bruised thrusts from the Kremel below it and laser bolts exploding in its face.

But then a glimmer of hope appeared in the form of Nippy. Taller and stronger than the others, he stood below the wranntil, his arms gripping one large clawed hand as he threw his entire weight forward.

For a split second it was a battle of wills, but Nippy had something the wranntil didn’t. Something nobody else on the entire ship had. It was the same reason he didn’t have a single cut or bruise on his skin, and the reason that the wranntil gave in to him and not the dozen others who tried before.

Nippy had a system. He was part of the .1% of the galaxy with the ability to [Level], magically increase his physical and mental attributes, and learn special, sometimes unnatural [Skills]. And when faced with something like that, even an enraged wranntil had no choice but to step back onto the square.

As soon as the beast stumbled onto the platform, green fields shot up on all sides, completely shutting it out. Two poles also sprung up just outside the fields to cast a field on the top to ensure there was no chance of escape for the creature. It howled and bellowed as it slashed at the energy shields, but it was all for naught.

The wranntil was trapped. The hardest part of the mission was done with.

Lus stood up as everyone cheered and congratulated each other. Those with more serious injuries were sent off to the medical center, but all in all, there were limited casualties.

Well, except for Chef Wlnp. He glanced over to the puddle of black goo which represented the only recoverable remains of the old Kremel.

“Loser, what have you done this time?” Wsr yelled at him as she approached the blood. “I distinctly remember Cewi-Bano ordering you to get Wlnp to safety? Does he look safe to you?”

“It’s not my fault. I would have gotten to him in time, but Relf ran into me,” Lus defended himself. She was really pissed if she was stooping to name calling.

“Not true! Lus ran into me as I was going to save the chef. He was going to hide,” Relf claimed.

“Oh, that’s a load of crap,” Lusac said, throwing his hands in the air. “You were running scared like a baby.”

“It doesn’t matter what Relf was doing. Your job was to save Wlnp,” Wsr pointed out.

“Well if you and the others had done a better job of strapping the wranntil down in the first place, this never would have happened!” The words left Lus before he could stop himself, and a painful silence settled over the hangar.

One of the Kremel’s furry eyebrows twitched, and Lus knew he was once again only moments from an early death. Luckily Nippy stepped in before Wsr could avenge the chef.

He held the Kremel’s shoulders as she fumed angrily in Lusac’s direction. Every eye in the bay was on the argument, most of them glaring at the one responsible for the death of the only person on the entire ship with any ideas on how to produce mostly edible food.

Even Cewi gave Lus a disappointed nod, signaling a level of failure he’d never quite achieved in his two years with the crew.

Once Wsr was calm enough to not murder Lus on the spot, Nippy released her and turned to the Human. Before he could unleash his own fury, the inner door of the bay opened and everyone turned to see a Human man calmly walking in.

Immediately the entire crew snapped to attention as Captain Boni Tave motioned Nippy to him. The Kremel was quick to step up to the Captain and in a rushed whisper explained everything that happened, including the death of Wlnp. Captain Tave nodded, one hand rubbing the neatly trimmed beard he wore. Eventually he waved Nippy off.

“Lusac Arten,” the Captain called out, a warning edge in his tone. “Step forward.”

Lus swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and did as he was ordered. This was it. They were going to boot him off the ship, and then he’d be caught, either by the government as an enemy soldier to be sent to a prison camp or by the Corporates who would throw him straight back into the military, only with even less freedom than he had before. Either way he was doomed to a life of misery.

Captain Tave’s glare was more of a causal study rather than one of intense hatred and anger, sending the signal that Lus might have a chance of staying on board after all, even if it meant scrubbing toilets for the next three months.

“This was an unfortunate incident resulting in the loss of an important member of our crew. However, accidents do happen. This line of work has its dangers, even for positions like the chef. Lusac, I am choosing to believe that you did not intentionally let Chef Wlnp die,” Captain Tave announced. “However,” he added before anyone could call out in disapproval, “his death still happened under your watch, regardless of other interference. Given the situation, recompense must be made.”

This was met with more malicious grins and a few shaking heads from those still on Lus’s side.

“Since it was your responsibility to protect Wlnp, and you failed in that, you will now be taking on some of his duties until a suitable replacement can be found,” the Captain said with a firm stare.

“You mean…” Lus balled his fists against the discomfort forming in his chest. “I’m the new cook?”

Captain Tave smiled. “Aye, lad, at least part of the time. Let’s hear it for Chef Lusac.”

Half-hearted cheers sounded from the onlookers, but Lus thought he might throw up. There was one major problem with this new role.

Lus didn’t know the first thing about cooking.