Spooker

Grass Eaters | 29 | Steakhouse III

MNS Seuvommae

“Bah, red sixteen. Give me another card.”

“You sure about that? Your token stack’s looking pretty thin,” cautioned the dealer, Baedarsust, also the ringleader of the motley crew. His day job as one of the four backup shuttle pilots of the Seuvommae meant that he had the most free time of the group.

“Go big or go home,” the unlucky mechanic quipped as she pushed all her remaining tokens into the center of the makeshift table, the flat top of a pu...

Grass Eaters | 28 | Steakhouse II

Atlas, Luna

“For your fourth course, would you like the Alaskan Halibut or the Diver Scallops?”

“The what? And the what?” Quaullast squinted in utter confusion, as if trying to decode an alien language, which he supposed he was. He swiveled his head toward Frumers. “Was Soerru Steakhouse this complex and fancy in Malgeirgam?”

“No, the menu is wildly different. They must have altered it.” Frumers scratched his head, visibly bewildered too a...

Grass Eaters | 27 | Steakhouse I

Atlas, Luna

Niblui was about to slip into the luxurious, custom-installed Malgeir-friendly bathtub that the Terrans had put in her special guest quarters. She was already dreaming about the warm relaxation when her datapad buzzed, totally ruining her train of thought. Lightly sighing in frustration, she grabbed the device.

“Call for you from the Terrans, Ambassador. They insisted on talking to you,” her aide spoke through the speaker.

“The Terrans? Now? Is this about...

Grass Eaters | 26 | Inevitable IV

Datsot (Simulated)

Grionc spun on her rear paws, her eyes blazing as she confronted the Terrans. “What happened?” she demanded.

Carla briskly stepped up to the holographic console, her voice commanding the simulation computer, “Show us the final results, computer.”

The screen flickered, then displayed the somber results of the battle simulation.

Carla ran through the details, shaking her head as she went. “You died. Opfor Battlegroup Bravo targeted the Oeng...

Grass Eaters | 25 | Inevitable III

Datsot (Simulated)

“Firing now!”

The simulation made the correct sounds for missiles being ejected out of their launchers towards the enemy, and Grionc almost felt the floor rumble beneath her walking paws.

“Prepare for the second volley,” she commanded.

“Enemy countermeasures are out now!”

“Enemies are passing us soon.”

“All ships fire at will when they enter railgun range.”

“Firing 3… 2… 1…”

On one paw, the Znos...

Grass Eaters | 24 | Inevitable II

Atlas, Luna

Both Speinfoent and Grionc stared at the holographic star map floating in front of them foretelling disaster, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Grionc recovered first. Shaking off the initial shock, she found her voice. “What is the meaning of this? With Terran help, surely, we will do better.”

Amelia met her gaze, her eyes serious. “Absolutely. But let me flip the question: what do you expect us to bring to the table?”

Taking a steadying breath, Gr...

Grass Eaters | 23 | Inevitable I

MFS Pesmod

“Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one,” Amelia counted out loud as Malgeir spacers filed into the sleek Terran shuttle in an orderly line. “Twenty-two. And full.”

Holding out her arm like a bar, she halted the final two Malgeir crew members in the queue, offering them a sympathetic half-smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the next one with you two.”

“I’m sure we can squeeze in the standing room—” Speinfoent started, looking at the expanse of...

Chapter 18 Map

Grass Eaters | 22 | Passing the Test

MFS Pesmod

“You’re always welcome on the bridge, High Fleet Commander,” Captain Pliont said, his eyes twinkling with a mix of respect and awe after she’d politely inquired about stepping onto his domain. “To be honest, it is an honor to have such a high-ranking officer and a war hero on board.”

Grionc offered a casual hand wave, dismissing the compliment. “Let’s not get carried away, Captain. I’m merely an exiled fleet commander who commands a flotilla of one. ...

Grass Eaters | 21 | Military Industrial Complex

Olympus, Mars

Raytech Corporation’s headquarters stood proudly on the Martian landscape as a testament to undying human hubris: a gigantic domed campus of breathable atmosphere surrounded by the red sands of the hostile planet. A colossal oasis that thumbed its nose at the unforgiving red desert.

This slice of Terra did not contain any industrial facility; instead, tens of thousands of the best and brightest Terrans lived here. They were here conducting advanced research, deve...

Grass Eaters | 20 | Blood

Atlas, Luna

“This is impossible,” John declared, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, wait. Wait,” Kara murmured, her eyes glued to the complex puzzle displayed on the screen before them. “Aha. I got it!”

“No way,” John replied, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Fine, go ahead. I’m not going to figure it out anyway.”

“Okay, watch this: Rook to d8 check. Knight to a6 check. Queen to b8 check. Knight to c7 and mate,” Kara rattled off, swiftly manip...

Grass Eaters | 19 | High Council

Malgeirgam, Malgeiru

Niblui stepped into the bustling High Council reception area, instantly sensing an electrifying buzz in the air. Her designated receptionist practically flew down the grand staircase as soon as his eyes detected her presence.

“Esteemed Ambassador Niblui, I’m so sorry I can’t get you into the chamber for another ten minutes,” he panted, skipping the last few steps and looking as if he’d just participated in an endurance race.

She shrugged, tak...

World Building Notes

This is work in progress and redacted for some spoilers.

(Bonus) Missing in Action

“How could that possibly have happened?” Atluftrosh could scarcely believe his ears as he stared uncomfortably at the uniform of the fleetmaster. The crimson red on his collars accentuated his snow-white fur, and numerous parallel lines adorned his plain insignia.

The enemy — the predator abominations — they used fancy pictures and other complex symbols to denote rank: another one of their inefficient waste of resources. And Atluftrosh heard that their eyes had problems counting...

Grass Eaters | 18 | First Contact

MFS Pesmod

“You are Grass Eaters.”

“Hmmm… not quite,” the tall alien said with a somewhat-recognizable smirk, her words converted smoothly through their translator into a high-pitched voice with a Malgeirgam accent so pure it reminded Niblui of a female Federation Channel One reporter. Niblui knew people in politics who went to school to learn to talk like that. “One of my great-grandmothers was a vegetarian though.”

“You? Your great-grandmother? Huh?” Am...

Grass Eaters | 17 | Malfunction

MFS Pesmod

Ambassador Niblui jolted upright from her comfy bunk as the jarring clang of metal echoed through the ship’s corridors. The walls, though thin, muffled the urgent wailing of an alarm, but only just before a comical sequence of thuds silenced it, like someone wrestling with a stubborn piece of machinery.

She jabbed the button for the intercom. “What’s going on, bridge? Is everything okay?”

Captain Pliont’s voice, ever calm and soothing, replied immediat...

Grass Eaters | 16 | Coup

MNS Oengro

Fleet Commander Grionc stared at the ships on the sensor screen and wondered how they got here.

The corrupt Home Fleet had imprisoned Speinfoent, and now they had another warrant and were coming for her as well. The two boarding vessels off the starboard of the Oengro made that clear.

Who did they think they were?!

She didn’t think of herself as the galaxy’s gift to the Malgeir, but she was certainly better than anyone else they had in the mid...

Grass Eaters | 15 | Alien Politics

Malgeiru (Simulated)

(Medium fidelity simulation)

“A completely hopeless situation for us, would you say?” Grionc asked with truly machine-like brevity.

Fake Speinfoent replied, shaking his ears in the simulator’s best imitation of a Malgeir rejection, “Negative, Admiral, our ships are far more combat ready. Our crews are exclusively experienced veterans. Morale is high. The rest of the fleet is ready to follow you into battle—”

---

“Wait. Make it...

Grass Eaters | 14 | Outpost

Malgeirgam, Malgeiru

This job sucks. I was supposed to just collect prisoners and shake them down for credits, not be berated and personally threatened by the Home Fleet Commander himself for failing to obtain one measly autograph.

“Look, just scratch your signature here and we’re done. You walk, just like that,” Pincrio whined, his tail flicking with obvious annoyance.

Speinfoent’s eyes flicked over the digital text on the datapad. “That’s not happeni...

Grass Eaters | 13 | Treason

Malgeirgam, Malgeiru

The massive spaceport dwarfed the suburban outskirts of the city with its impenetrable walls and towering spires. The air buzzed with the sound of engines revving; a steady drone that echoed off distant mountains on this brilliant night skyscape like thunder rolling across endless plains. Moving a frightening volume of people and cargo every day, it was the busiest hub of interstellar travel in the Malgeir Federation.

The line of Malgeir snaking into the spa...