The Six-Eyed Beast
Copyright© 2025 by BenLepp
Chapter 34: Many Guests, Many Legs
March 1st, 2279
There was actually a long chain of events that had led to the incredible state of intoxication Basil was now in, feeling the restaurant swirling around him now, trying to hold on to something, but only finding the cushion snake and a hover table, so he held on to his own knees, waiting for the medcomp to kick in, but giving it instructions was not exactly easy, seeing things tripled now, and when he did, it refused to follow orders. One factor was his withdrawal, Boddins had cut off his supply of the usual uppers and downers, knocking him off-balance in general, but then, Boddins, who had popups about what his Captain was consuming, greenlit the antitranspirant and then got busy with Mellir’s brain surgery, missing the rest of the events. Nocks, who was also assisting in said surgery was more able to multitask so she saw the cleanup of the antitranspirant and blocked it after the initial cleaning started, as she thought Boddins was overreaching, unaware that it had been the medcomp itself giving Basil the ability to cool off again. She could have just asked the starfish-shaped Visser doctor who was working right next to her on a Mellir whose Brain was out in the open after half the cranium was cut away, but didn’t want that discussion whilst the Security Chief was presented like a strange pudding holder. So, when Basil emptied the whole bottle of Petumbio’s, actually a pretty weak wine as Petumbio had also introduced it to reduce unpleasant incidents aboard his station, he was hit with several multiplying factors and was now barely able to walk, a huge surprise to the registered follower of the Bacchus cult, well-versed in the arts of chemically balancing out his brain against the harsh realities of his world.
Then, two messages came in on his wrist, he could see that one was from Perlas, the other one was from Nocks. Basil had no choice but to have them converted to audio. Perlas simply informed him that by the time the lockdown of the ship had been put in place, he was too far away on the station on important business for the ship and that he would be back soon with a few things that would help the ship 😉. Interestingly, there already was an answer from Basil agreeing to this, which confused the captain until he remembered Perlas had his executive password. Nocks’ message was shorter: She offered to cut out Boddins from his medcomp with fake data again, if the captain would let her “choose which program runs the interference between the artificial and biological brain of Lieutenant Mellir”. Basil had no idea what this meant, but agreed nonetheless, as he needed his medcomp back badly at that very moment. Nocks saw the positive answer, but by that time, she was also very busy connecting the little CPU that would replace part of Mellir’s brain to the remaining part, so she figured she could code the trickery against Boddins later, as she intended to simply change numbers, so neither would Basil be able to overdose nor Boddins to underdose, leading to a captain that should balance out in the middle.
Balance was furthest away from Basil now, who was very sure as he staggered out of the restaurant (payment was automatic, of course) that he could never show this specific face there again, which wasn’t an issue as he could always have a new one, now knowing that Alex Naxos wasn’t unknown in the fleet and SciComm. Trying to walk as normally as he could, he again traversed the trader’s deck, looking for a pod. They were all taken and the traders saw his gait and smelled a good deal, until Basil told them loudly and incoherently that he was from the ‘commission traders oversight’ and would perform a check on their inventory soon, which made them all back off and put certain objects under the tables.
Without an available pod, it was again the freight elevator that would bring him down almost a kilometer to his ship, but as it was usually pretty empty, it seemed like a good way to get home without too many people seeing his state, as it was definitely embarrassing to him to not be able to hold his own in drinking, hoping Ton would never hear of this, but one of the traders who had approached him had already sent the update to Ton, who thought nothing of it, thinking that man deserved to get drunk after taking on the evil cruiser. The barn door swung up, and now it seemed pretty quick to Basil, but everything seemed quick to a man trying to remember which foot was last to be put forward. As he entered, he stumbled over the gap and fell, a bit surprised to be helped up by strong arms, put against the wall of the elevator. As his vision recovered, he saw Greybeard smiling at him. Basil yelled GREYBEARD!!! and hugged the old man with an enthusiasm only seen in drunk men and football players.
- Careful, young captain, I am quite fragile these days.
- Awww, nah, I bet you could transform into a cyclops if you wanted, man!
- That would be entertaining, don’t you think?
Basil laughed as he imagined the transformation, a very old cyclops filling the freight elevator, with just one glass for his eyes, but a huge one.
- Man, I have been looking for you every time I come here.
- That’s endearing, but why would you?
- Dude, you were the one I met before all of this shit, I mean right before! You told me to listen to the stars! We did!
- What came of it?
- Erm, nothing yet, but we know what you meant, looking for cloaked ships.
- My dearest young captain, but that is not at all what I meant.
- It wasn’t? Oyy.
- Afraid not. I merely wanted you to keep a keen sense of what is around you.
Basil could not compute this information, since technically, that’s what Perlas’ ear canals were doing when he was at his station on the bridge. And the Rubicon was nothing but keenly surveying as soon as things got interesting.
- So, then, I mean ... who are you?
- I am Greybeard, of course!
There was a pause, until drunk Basil realized the fossil really wanted him to ask the correct question.
- What are you?
- A friend, if you can still believe that after all that happened.
- Yea, I DO, but like where from, you don’t show up on video feeds!
- Ah, yes, my state of being is not like yours.
- Are you just ... you know, in my head?
- In a way, yes.
- Shit, man. Not good.
- Oh, don’t worry about that, you didn’t create me, it was quite the other way around, in a way.
- Da-ad?
That was supposed to be a joke by Basil, but it seemed to confuse Greybeard, as wherever he was from, fathers seemed to disappear less and therefore the joke of finally finding one’s father did not work.
- No...
- But why are you here, then, now, in this elevator?
- Oh, I liked the story you told the young lady. She did, too, or she would have slapped and reported you, that was her original plan.
- You’re watching me? That’s your job?
- Oh, I can’t avoid it, remember? You’re listening to the stars; I am listening to your mind. And most curiously, I cannot understand how you came up with this story.
Basil was still very unclear, both in vision as in the mind but why Greybeard would have interest in his dating tricks was beyond him even on better days.
- What?
- Oh, see, we’re almost done. Back to your ship, ready for another round of adventures on the High Seas, Captain?
- No, don’t go. I have like a metric ton of questions!
- As I said, there are limits. But I did like your story, very imaginative!
- Give me a hint, anything, man. I am flying blind here.
- Oh, but young captain, you will surely misinterpret it again. And your blindness is what makes you do the right things.
The barndoor was opening but Basil would not even dare to blink, since he needed answers, guidance, anything to make him feel less exposed to a myriad of threats.
- Yea but BLINDNESS? There are risks involved, you know?
- Go now, and focus on those who love you, they will need their captain to steer the ship through all weathers.
That made even less sense, since it was Ka’al who steered the ship, Basil yelling previously agreed-on maneuvers, and Basil was pretty sure there was no one who loved him, even his parents had no issue leaving for a total of 14 years, choosing science above their only son, earlier in his life simply nodding to each other that they made a sufficiently intelligent child and it would figure things out eventually, before going back to work and leaving Basil to wander the outposts they were frequently changing.
- What? What the hell is this even...
Basil hadn’t moved from the wall he had found very supportive in his state, but now he suddenly found himself outside the closing barn door, Greybeard waving his modern art cane at him, Basil almost falling over, having lost a supporter.
Greybeard laughed now, and through the closing door he yelled:
- Admirals have stars! Why don’t you listen to them, haha.
- Very funny.
Greybeard felt a bit like he underdelivered in this one, so he sent out one last sentence, directly into Basil’s mind, as the barndoor had closed:
You were never supposed to get off the Tel’neo. You’re welcome, young captain.
Basil simply remembered this for later and was on his way, stumbling through the huge door that led into Hangar 46. He was greeted by several marines pointing rifles at him, until Mender told them to stand down. They immediately recognized his state, being not only veterans of battles but also veterans of the long pauses between said battles. Mender sent her three underlings back on patrol and grabbed the captain, not saying a word. Since the ship was in lockdown, her operation to get Basil back to his quarters unseen turned out to be quite complicated, her marines securing the outside, Ellip opening the frontal hatchway and making sure everyone was at their stations or in their quarters, which was completely superfluous, since the marines would spend the next days telling everyone with ears about the captain’s state. As Mender pushed her superior through the door to his ready room, operation complete, she unveiled her plan.
- One last thing, captain.
- Mhm?
- On the Argulan. What did you know?
Basil had sobered up a bit during operation Sneaky Captain, having grabbed a refreshing sugary drink passing a synthesizer in the port main hallway, and he had wondered if she would put her rifle to his head, after all, they had parted ways after her dramatic speech.
Basil turned to her, breathing alcohol fumes like an unemployed dragon. Towering above her, but keenly aware of how she held her rifle, it was not on her back but in her hands, as she had used the scanner of the sights to look for people to avoid or shush back into their cabins.
- You want the fucking truth?
- I do, Sir.
- Remember that engineer that got his head smacked into a wall?