"Crabs?" Yvian furrowed her eyebrows.

"Crabs," Mims confirmed. The human lounged in his chair, beer in hand. They were in the Encounter's kitchen. The Random Encounter itself was docked in New Pixa's largest shipyard. The four of them had been split up taking care of various projects, but the Captain had insisted they come together once a week for a meal and a meeting so everyone knew what was going on.

"What The Crunch is a crab?"

"Crabs are small, semi aquatic creatures with six legs, two pincers, and a carapace," the human explained. "They evolved separately in multiple places on Earth that was, and we've found variations of the species on every habitable world we've visited."

"Gribshit," said Lissa. "The Confed's got a bunch of class five planets, and I've never even heard of a crab."

"Oh yeah?" Mims fiddled with his wrist console. A holographic image appeared. A pair of small round creatures with red shells and eyestalks appeared. "Then what do you call these? I took this picture on Brilend Prime."

"Oh!" Yvian recognized the things. "Finaks!" Finak legs were considered a delicacy, especially in Flivvan space where she'd grown up. Yvian had always wanted to try them, but like most pixens she'd grown up eating protein paste. She only got the chance when Mims had taken her to the resort on Krog Prime. They turned out to be delicious. "I've eaten those!"

"Huh." Mims grunted. "Guess the translators still missing a few words here and there."

"Ok," said Yvian. "Finaks. What do finaks have to do with anything?"

"You asked why so many species were humanoid," Mims reminded her.

"Pixenoid," Lissa corrected.

"Whatever." Mims waved her off. "Something like seventy percent of all spacefaring species are bipedal omnivores that breath oxygen. Most of those species never interacted with eachother before they found their way into space. It's just like crabs."

"Ok, but why though?" asked Yvian. "And if we're all so similar, how come we can't interbreed?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Mims swigged his beer. "No one knows for sure, but Wheel Theory is the most accepted explanation among humans."

"Wheel theory?" Lissa prompted.

"No matter who invents the wheel," the human explained, "the wheel is always round. Wheel Theory says similar evolutionary pressures tend to cause similar evolutionary results. Basically, most dominant species that develop will develop like pixens because it's one of the best ways to adapt."

"And the breeding?"

Mims shrugged. "We might look similar, and most of our organs are the same, but we're still different species with different DNA. A king crab and a snow crab might look alike, but they can't make babies." His brow furrowed. "At least, not without significant genetic tampering."

"We are off subject," Kilroy interjected. "We were speaking of our progress assimilating citizens into the Pixen Technocracy."

"Right," Yvian remembered. "And you said a bunch of them are missing the Guilds."

"Affirmative." As was his custom, Kilroy stood off to the side, having no need to either sit or drink beer. The poor guy. "Nearly sixty percent of pixens were employed by the Guilds in some fashion. They have no skills beyond providing adult entertainment. They are having difficulty finding purpose, and many of them have expressed a desire for..." A delicate pause. "Interspecies copulation." His eyes flashed pink. "They have started accosting Peacekeeper units."

"Accosting?" Lissa blinked. "You mean... Are you...?"

"That is not one of our functions." Kilroy's eyes continued the pink glow of social discomfort. "Peacekeeper units are neither equipped for nor inclined towards sexual activity."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Well, at least they're starting to like you," Yvian grinned. She'd been worried how the pixens would react to Peacekeeper units. Synthetic Intelligences were illegal in the Confed. Illegal and highly feared. The Xill were the only robotic sapients her people had known about, and the Xill were mostly known for murdering every organic they could get their hands on. If her people were comfortable enough with Kilroy's kind to try for boinking, she couldn't help but think it was a good thing.

"You are not funny," Kilroy huffed. The pink glow ended with a brief flash or red. "The other units have been complaining. They find these offers...Annoying."

"Duly noted," said Mims. "Lissa, can you make a statement or...?"

"I'll see what I can do," said the pixen. She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she changed the subject. "How about education?"

"Results are mixed," the Peacekeeper reported. "The majority of children are now attending schools. Only three percent of adults have enrolled in vocational training or higher education."

"Free school," Yvian mused. Pixens were taught to read and write, but not much else. Yvian had had to take on significant debt to become trained and certified as a computer programmer. Debt that would have seen her enslaved if she hadn't managed to pay it back. "It seems too good to be true."

"A sentiment shared by the population," Kilroy agreed. "This unit suspects that is why so few citizens are availing themselves of it. It is unlikely the children would be taking classes if we had not made it a legal requirement."

"They don't trust any of it," said Lissa. "I've been going around, talking to people. Everyone's waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I don't blame them," said Mims. "Your people have spent the last three hundred years being exploited in a slave state run by an oligarchy. Basic social services are a foreign concept."

"Basic?" Lissa scoffed. "Basic? We're talking free education, healthcare, housing." She gestured emphatically with her beer bottle. "The average pixen made twenty thousand credits a year in the Confed, and we're handing them that much every month. For nothing." She set her bottle on the table and grabbed a new one. "And that's basic?"

"By human standards, yes," Mims finished his own beer. "Whatever you think about our foreign policy, we take good care of our people."

"Gribshit," Lissa insisted. "You're the most famously evil species in the verse. There's no way..."

"Captain Mims is correct," Kilroy backed the human. "The Terran Federation provides education, healthcare, housing, a monthly stipend, and a multitude of other services to it's population."

"But..." Yvian frowned. "Humans are evil, though..."

"Really?" Mims gave her an incredulous look. "You've been working with me for how long?"

"Uh... Mims?" Lissa scratched her head. "I love you, so don't take this the wrong way, but you're basically the stereotype."

Mims blinked. "What?"

"You're a cold blooded killer with questionable sanity," Yvian's sister elaborated. "I've known you less than two years, and I've personally seen you kill hundreds of people."

"Two hundred forty seven," Kilroy helpfully supplied.

"But they were all bad, though," the human protested.

"You kill people for a living," Lissa reminded him. "You don't even need to. You're already rich."

"Plus nearly every human we've met has tried to kill us," Yvian added. "Including the ones in the government you worked for."

"And the rest were pirates," Lissa continued. "What were we supposed to think?"

Captain Mims looked at one sister, then the other. He took a long pull from his bottle. "Fair." He sighed. "If it helps, our social programs are the secret to our success. With our basic needs met, we're free to pursue our own projects, and we don't have to be afraid of failure. Means there are a lot of humans with advanced education pushing the boundaries of science and innovation."

"What about freeloaders?" Lissa asked. "Wouldn't there be a lot of people that just... don't do anything?"

"Who cares?" the Captain shrugged. "They're not hurting anything. There's plenty to go around." He set his beer down. "Most people try to find something to do, though. People are happier when they've got a purpose."

"We are off subject again." Kilroy sounded mildly annoyed. "Can you meatbags please stick to the point?"

"Probably not," Lissa admitted. "Why? Do you have something better to do?"

"This unit has forty three other tasks it could be performing," said Kilroy, "and over two hundred thousand hours of media it could be enjoying."

"I didn't think you watched Holovision," Yvian commented. "You never want to watch Space Captain."

"Space Captain is sub-standard."

Yvian scowled at him. "You take that back."

"Alright, moving on," Captain Mims intervened. "Let's talk logistics."

"Stand by." Kilroy tilted his head. His eyes flashed crimson. "Alert. Klaath Kluster detected."

"The Klaath?" The human's eyes narrowed. "How close? Can we kill it?" The Klaath were a menace. The only species Yvian knew of that could travel between sectors without using Gates. Klusters popped up everywhere, but when one appeared in a sector with inhabitable worlds, a full Incursion often followed.

"The Kluster is three thousand and sixteen kilometers from the 6th planet from the Homestar. Dispatching fighters. Estimated time until engagement, forty three minutes."

Mims nodded, finishing his beer. "I think I'll head to the bridge. We can meet up again tomorrow."

"Affirmative." Kilroy sighed, eyes blue. "Meatbags and their..." His eyes went back to red. "Alert. Klaath Klusters detected. Three hundred twenty seven. They are eight hundred thirty four kilometers from this station."

Mims swore. "Battle stations." Lissa and Yvian climbed to their feet, following the Captain as he sprinted down the corridor.

Kilroy followed as well.

"Alert. Klaath Klusters detected."