As luck would have it, I had to listen to Dumbass hum along with the music inside my head as we walked. You would think an implant as annoying as mine would be equally annoying when it came to humming along with music, but beyond all my very low expectations, I was actually enjoying it. Dumbass had pretty good pitch control, its hums rising and falling with the odd digital melody that echoed inside my mind. I even bobbed my head a little. That could have just been because I’m a duck, though. We are known for it.

But then Dumbass did something I couldn’t have predicted, even in my wildest nightmares.

It started singing.

And not just singing along with the music for fun. Like singing singing.

Dumbass sucked in a fake breath and belted out a song in a language that sounded completely alien to me—it probably was, too. It made a shiver run down my spine and the feathers on the back of my neck rose like I was about to get struck by lightning.

“Holy crap, Dumbass,” I said. “That’s so good you’re giving me the willies. Is that… Gallic music?”

“Oh, my god. You are such a lame ass. Haven’t you heard of dubstep before?”

“Dubstep? What the cluck is—”

An explosion of terribly mouthed bass went off inside my head. “Boom! Bweep! Bwap-bwap-buh-bwap! Bwoom! Boom! Bweep! Bwap-bwap-buh-bwap! Bwoom! Boom! Beep! Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum dum! Boom! Bweep! Bwap-bwap-buh-bwap! Bwoom!”

The noise was so sudden and terrifying I instinctively ducked in fear and covered my ears. “Dammit, Dumbass! Turn it off! Stop! What in the hell is that?! The chickens can’t really like that, can they?”

Dumbass huffed. “I already told you, it’s dubstep. And it’s not even Gallic music, or from any of the other species in the galaxy. It’s from Earth. You should know all about this. I uploaded this song into your brain.”

“No clucking way,” I said. “You told me you uploaded every Billboard Top 100 hit into my brain. There’s no way in hell anybody ever enjoyed this hot garbage. It sounds like a robot with Tourettes is having a seizure.”

“That’s just because you’re nothing but an unrefined, common pond duck. You wouldn’t know good music if it hit you in the face. You probably like country music.”

I gasped. “Hey! There is nothing wrong with country music! I bet more people like country than this garbage! There is no way in the history of Earth this dubstep crap was ever popular.”

“Do you… wanna make a bet?”

“No, I don’t need to bet on it. I know I’m right. And I ain’t no common pond duck either. I’m an alpha pond duck, if you must know. Plus, what do you have to bet, anyway?”

“Hmm. Good point,” it admitted. “How about… one coupon good for twelve hours of me being silent?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Clucking deal!”

“You need to check that impulsiveness, Flap. Don’t you... want to find out what you owe me if you lose?”

“Nope.” I crossed my arms. “I can’t believe you’re calling me impulsive, but no. I don’t need to know. Because, like I said, I know I’m right. An alpha pond duck always knows when they’re right.”

“Okayyy. Suit yourself.” Dumbass made a noise like it was drawing in a deep breath, then it spoke in its best impression of a radio disc jockey. “This winning bet is brought to you by Skillrex! The former emo kid turned DJ released the EP Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites in October of 2010. The single sharing the same name peaked at number three on the Billboard Top 100 in December of 2011. So, stick that fish in your bill and eat it. Alpha pond cuck.”

I said nothing. I didn’t have to. Throughout our short time together, I had learned that although Dumbass and I were each independent sentients, we almost shared a common mind when our thought threads overlapped. Deep down, I knew Dumbass was right. So I did the best thing a duck can do when they’re wrong. I let out a nervous laugh and tried to move on, hoping Dumbass wouldn’t hold my stubbornness against me. “Haha. Dubstep, huh? You’re telling me that if we save Earth, we save that?”

“Yep! Now, are you ready to find out what you owe me?”

“Ready? No, I’m not. In fact, I’m wondering if I even want to save Earth anymo—”

“Help!” screamed a shrill voice off in the distance. “Help! Somebody please help Donk! He’s trying to kill Donk! Donk found it first! Donk is hungry!”

“No, you didn’t you, you nasty bugger! I found it first,” barked another voice straight out of an episode of the Jersey Shore. “It’s my corpse! Scram, you rat!”

Without thinking, I started sprinting towards the voice, webbed feet flapping against the gravel of the road. My instincts had kicked into overdrive. Something about the tone of the screams made my mind flash back to that time I had watched a duckling waddle too far from its nest, only to get snatched by a fox before I could get over there. I had nightmares about that for weeks. Still do.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dumbass screamed inside my head.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to clucking help!”

“You can’t just rush into things like that, Flap. We don’t know what we’re walking into. I know you’ve spent most of your life happily swimming around like a feathered beach bum, but the galaxy is a mean place. It could be a trick. They could be after your gear for all we know.”

“Who cares?” I snapped. “I only own two bags of chicken feed and a weird knife. I ain’t gonna leave some creature to get bullied, okay? We got a saying back on Earth. It’s—”

“Lemme guess? Ducks fly together?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”

“Call it a wild hunch, Bombay. But fine, if you really want to go playing hero before you even hit level two, I guess the best thing I can do is help you. Or… the only thing, maybe? You are essentially my meat mech. Haha! And your mech pilot is telling you to scan them.”

I rolled my eyes. “How do I do that?”

“Focus on the beings like you would an item. You’ll get a basic breakdown of their level and species, but that’s about it.”

“Got it.” As I moved closer to the noise, the plant lined road shifted to a wide open field. There was a huge metal wall at the end of the clearing, with guard towers and the Gallic equivalent of razor wire. It looked more like a prison than a training facility complete with a sinister forty foot high gate, but I didn’t have time to dwell on that. I ran towards two figures fighting over what appeared to be a pile of hamburger.

I focused on the left one as Dumbass had told me, and as I did so, my vision zoomed in on the creature. It was one of the cutest looking things I had ever seen, like a cross between a European badger and a teddy bear. I would have taken this one to be the nicer of the two if it weren’t for dagger it was desperately trying to stab the other alien to death with.

Garf tum Garbluk

Level 1 Snoote

Don’t confuse the foul-tempered Snoote for something you might pick up at Build-A-Bear Workshop. As the fifth species to gain sentience on a planet where the four sentient species that came before them were each responsible for planetwide mass extinctions, these sneaky and vile rodents trust no one. They will stab you in the back the first chance they get. In fact, that’s why Garf tum Garbluk is here in the first place. I’d suggest talking to him face to face. Or you can kill him. Maybe it just might be easier to kill him.

Okay, he sounds like an asshole, I thought. I shifted my gaze to the other creature that was somehow even more bizarre. It looked like someone had taken the green guy with one eye from those monster movies for kids and stretched him like taffy. His bottom half looked almost identical to a blue yoga ball, just with a pair of thin legs sticking out. His top half was also a blue yoga ball, only with arms instead of legs, and a single ostrich egg sized eye between three thick eyebrows. An absurdly long shaft of blue flesh that had at least a dozen more pairs of arms jutting out from both sides like a centipede connected the two halves.

Donk

Level 1 Eyestalker

The aptly named eyestalkers come from one of the most disliked planets in the galaxy: Donk. So much so that the Cluck Collective has practically erased its existence (think of it as their Gary, Indiana). A hive minded species that once went by the singular name, Donk, this Donk is literally the only living member of their species remaining. Named Donk. Let me repeat that. He is the only living member of the Donk species… and his name is Donk. Remind you of anyone? I can sense the kinship welling up inside you already. Did I mention his name is Donk? Well, it is. And you’re watching a murderrat about to stab the poor bastard. So are you just going to stand there or…

I knew what I was going to do before the message even finished playing. I rushed up to the two wrestling aliens, grabbed the Snoote by the scruff on the back of its neck, and yanked it off. The thing was about the size of a small child, so it took no effort for me to hold it in the air while it kicked and wailed.

“Hey, what’s the big idea!” it yelled. “I won that corpse fair and square! Put me down you—you… well, I don’t know what the cluck you are exactly, but you put me down right now! Or I’ll stab you in the back!”

I motioned towards the smoking pile of meat. “You actually want that? Why?”

“What are you? Not from around here or something?” It swiped at me with its claws, nicking my forearm. My health bar flashed red for a second, then returned to green almost instantly. “Huh, that usually does it. Um, I wanted the loot! It’s always about the loot. Everyone knows that. Except for you, apparently. Now put me down or I’ll—”

I punched the creature right in the face. My feathered fist caved in the creature’s skull with a sickening crunch. I shook the gore from my hand and had barely finished tossing the thing to the ground before a new milestone popped up.

New Milestone: Cold-blooded murder!

You have just completed your first cold-blooded murder! Unlike your past executions, which were more or less done in the name of survival, you made the conscious decision to end this creature’s life. Congratulations, murderer! You’re not going to need therapy, are you? Because that’s a tall order in his part of the galaxy.

Another notification appeared right after that one.

Level Up!

You are now Level 2!

You have gained five skill points.

(You may not apply skill points until you have reached level 5)

I cleared that notification and turned to the creature called Donk. I looked at him for a minute, trying to decide which one of his many arms I should aim for, then offered him a hand. He took it with a half dozen of the things and I pulled him to his feet.

“You okay, pal?”

“Yes, Donk is okay,” Donk said. The alien’s voice had a reverb quality to it, almost as if several Donks were speaking at once. “Thank you for helping worthless Donk in his time of need.”

“Don’t, uh, mention it, worthless Donk,” I said as I glanced down at the two corpses. “Why did you want this dead guy so bad? You after loot, too?”

“No. It is embarrassing but… Donk is hungry.”

“And this guy had some food on him or something?”

“No, not have food.” Donk rubbed his hands together. “Corpse is food.”

I stared at the creature for a good ten seconds, trying to process that statement, then I shrugged. Who was I to tell this guy what he could and couldn’t eat? “Fair enough. Where'd this this pile of hamburger come from, anyway?”

“Not sure what hamburger is, but it” Donk raised the hands on every single one of his arms then pointed at the tower, “tried to escape Training Level. Vaporized by Trainers. Not sure what else it expected. Donk was on his way in and found corpse. Donk had not eaten in many cycles, so attempted to feast. That was when Snoote attacked. Donk is not good at fighting.”

“I can see that.” I looked the eyestalker up and down, trying to find some kind of mouth he could eat with. I didn’t see one. I pointed at the corpse. “Where do you put all that, anyway?”

“Donk… has a way. Very disturbing to non-Donk. Suggest you not stick around.”

I shrugged again. “Whatever.” I kicked the dead Snoote and tossed Donk a wink. “Might as well eat this guy too, eh?”

“Wait!” Dumbass said. “Check the corpses for loot first.”

“Hold on a second, Donk. I gotta... take a look.

I checked the corpses using my scan skill and found nothing of value in the Snoote other than that rusted dagger. I was pretty fond of my combat spur, so I tossed the thing to Donk. Despite having more arms than it had brains, it still couldn’t catch the damn thing. I shook my head, then I checked the other corpse. And that’s when I found something really interesting.

Saurianskin Duster

Rarity: Legendary

This desperado-themed trench coat is made from extremely rare and extremely valuable Saurian skin. It’s hard enough to buy a dinosaur any more, let alone make a coat out of one, yet here this thing is. Most likely purchased at a black market in the farthest reaches of the Scutum-Crux arm where rumors of a free Dinosaur population float around like a grocery bag in a breeze, this Legendary item grants its wearer the Blink skill and a thirty percent damage reduction against Gallics.

“Damn, this thing is badass,” I said as I pulled the coat out and slipped it over my shoulders. It fit well and was far lighter than it looked. “I understand the Gallic thing, but what’s this Blink skill, Dumbass?”

“Really, Flap? I was in the middle of my show.” It huffed, like it was annoyed that its primary purpose in life was to actually assist me. “It’s a really high level teleportation skill, and the chance to unlock it is, like, super duper rare. You can store incoming kinetic damage, then release the energy as a short teleport within a ten-foot radius. I know it sounds really cool, but it’s not as useful as you might think, mostly because of the range limit. Still, it could be extremely useful if you choose to go with a close combat specialization once you reach level 5.”

“Got it.” I said as I ran a hand over the leather. “I can teleport—”

I felt a series of taps than ran from my calf all the way up to my shoulder. “Excuse, Donk. But do you mind if I…”

“Oh! Sure, go ahead. Feast your heart out, Donk. I guess I’ll, uh, see you inside?”

“Yes, see you inside. But please. Go now. Donk is very starving.”

I turned to make my way towards the gate, and that was when I noticed a fluttering shadow floating down at me from the top of the tower. The source of the shadow landed in front of me with barely a sound. Surprise, surprise. It was another one of those big chickens. A Gallic. And this one looked like it had seen more combat than Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Once upon a time something had burned his cock’s comb to a crisp, the thing now a mass of red melted flesh. He had feathers as black as the night, except where an entire wing and half of his face had been replaced with gleaming silver cybernetics. He snapped forward and twisted his head, moving his glowing red robot eye so close to mine I could feel the heat coming off it.

When he spoke, his voice reminded me of British version of the Macho Man, Randy Savage. “Did you… just kill one of my trainees… chickenshit?”

New Rank: Chickenshit!

You have just received a new rank. You are now a Level 2 Chickenshit. How about we don’t write home to mom about this one?

“Uh, yeah.” I took a step back. This guy’s breath was horrible. It smelled like a combination of cheap whisky and chicken feed. “Is that a problem?”

“Ba-kawk!” He yanked me even closer and snapped his beak in my face. The entire upper half must have been ripped off in some past battle, because it had been replaced with a carbon fiber prosthetic. “Do you... think it’s a problem, chickenshit?”

“Um, what should I say, Dumbass?”

“You’re a bold chickenshit, talking to me like that! Calling me a clucking Dumbass!”

“No, I wasn’t talking to—”

“Shut the cluck up while you’re ahead, chickenshit! And it’s not just a problem. It’s… outstanding! Absolutely outstanding for a weird-looking chickenshit like you! You’re lucky you even made it out of the egg, yet here you are helping me thin out my trainees.” He spun me around and kicked me right in my duck ass. “Now move it, chickenshit. Get the hell inside my Level and fall in line. You’re about to miss my tutorial, and you wouldn’t want to find out what happens when you miss my tutorial.”