After petting each of the Kessu and allaying their fears, José begins walking down the ramp toward his two newest Kraktol allies, both of whom send waves of fear spiking within the hearts of Elder Nyoor and his family.

"Oh, great Precursor..." Nyoor whimpers. "Must we face these hideous, scaled fiends? Look at their giant mouths! They could devour us in one bite!"

"We're all going to be good friends," José says, his expression impassive. He leads the Kessu forward at a slow, measured pace. "The yellow-scaled one is Soren. She's quite pleasant. The red-scaled one is Megla. I may have to slap some manners into her if she bares her teeth."

Nyoor nods dumbly. "Soren, good. Megla, bad. I... I understand..."

"We will see if you do," José says with a chuckle.

As José reaches the bottom of the ramp, Umi speaks into his brain, instead of using the overhead speaker system.

[Admiral. I have finished collating the operations you requested. I now have all of the essential data compiled regarding the level of technical capabilities from all known species around the Milky Way, including not only the Kraktol, but the Mallali as well.]

José's brain kicks into high gear, conversing with Umi in the blink of an eye. [Now isn't the best time. I'm about to introduce the Kraktol and Kessu. Also, why are you communicating via brainwaves?]

[Admiral, given the nature of my breaching the Kraktol's data reserves, I calculated with a 13% degree of uncertainty that speaking of such matters might anger your newest recruits. Given the sensitive nature of this information, I determined a more private avenue of communication was preferable.]

The Admiral nods imperceptibly. [I see. Keep that information on file. I'll get back to you in a bit.]

[Orders acknowledged, Admiral.]

Umi falls silent right as José strolls up to the Kraktol, both of whom continue to lean against one of the hangar's many support beams. "Soren. Megla. These are the Kessu. I hope you'll put aside your differences and try to greet them with some level of understanding."

The Terran bites off several key words while looking directly at Megla. She doesn't miss his intentions.

"Hmph. Fine," Megla groans. "I've nothing to be afraid of, anyway. These ugly little furballs aren't a threat to me."

The red-scaled Kraktol's words reach the Kessu, making them flatten their ears out of worry. Her indifference to their feelings, their suffering, only makes the void in their hearts deepen.

"Fiendish Rodak!" Elder Nyoor hisses. He stays tucked behind the Terran's leg, fearful of drawing too close to the six-foot reptiles, but still, José's presence emboldens the Kessu's patriarch. "Y-you monsters killed my people! Haven't you anything to say for yourselves?"

"I killed nobody," Megla snaps. "I only gave the order. As far as I'm concerned, you ugly little runts are still my sworn blood-enemy."

Megla glances at José for a split second before returning her gaze to the Kessu.

"Of course, I will keep my distance from you so long as you stay away from me. The galaxy knows your kind are riddled with mites and lice!"

Nyoor's grand-daughter, Lele, strides forward. "We are not! You stink like mud, granny!"

The bold words of the white-haired, Persian Kessu kitten immediately agitates Megla. She pulls away from the pillar and leers toward the child, a look of anger in her eyes. "Hey! Who taught you manners, brat?! I'll have you know I bathe in crystal-water thrice a day! I most certainly do not smell like mud! And another thing-"

Before she can continue, José frowns and bonks her on the head with the side of his palm. "Megla. Are you really about to get into an argument with a kitten?"

Megla lifts her head and glowers at José. "Didn't you hear this little claw-brain? She called me old! I ought to bend her over my knee and paddle her until her eyes turn red!"

"Enough."

José's words contain a hint of anger and annoyance.

"I don't have time to deal with your squabbling. All of you, stay quiet and listen carefully."

At the Terran's words, Megla pulls back and ignores the little Kessu girl, but not before shooting her a nasty glare.

"Go on."

Admiral Rodriguez clears his throat.

"Ahem. I've sent your fleet scurrying back to the Thülvik. With its crew's memories wiped and all scanning data related to my vessel gone, it should take them some time to figure out how terrifying the Bloodbearer is. Under ordinary circumstances, I'd laugh if a fleet of third or tenth era warships tried to threaten me. At the moment, that is not the case."

Soren leans forward. "Oh? What do you mean, Admiral?"

Already, the red-scaled Kraktol woman appears to have adopted José wholeheartedly as her commander. She doesn't even bat an eye at addressing him with a respectful tone, unlike Megla.

"Umi," José says. "Explain to everyone just how bad of a condition our ship is in."

"Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez. At this moment, 87.3% of the Bloodbearer's critical systems are inert. Life support is functioning at 7% optimum efficiency. 100% of all exterior weapons are offline. Engines are offline. 79% of internal components are functioning at or below 10% efficiency. The remainder are functioning only at 30% efficiency or lower. My memory banks have suffered a 45.9% loss of critical data stores, and a 91.3% loss of nonessential data stores."

A warped expression passes over Megla's face as she realizes the Bloodbearer had zero functional weapons, yet it still managed to easily manhandle her fleet. She keeps her mouth shut, though, and says nothing.

The Admiral speaks. "Simply put, this ship is absolutely worthless. Only three of the craft in this hangar function at all, and they're probably not even void-worthy. 100,000,000 years is an absurd amount of time, and it seems the Bloodbearer spent the vast majority of its life trapped inside a damned plasma storm. We're lucky its reactor didn't detonate in a thermonuclear ball of fire and steel."

With a shake of his head, José continues. "Our number one priority is to get the triple-induction drive back online. Once we enter folded space, we'll have plenty of time to get the internal systems running."

Megla and Soren both look at one another. Soren returns her gaze to José, a look of confusion on her face. "Folded space?"

"You don't know what that is?" José asks. "Scientists discovered folded space during the 8th or 9th era. It became a prolific means of travel by the 12th era, and ubiquitous by the 20th."

"I've not heard of it either," Megla says with a shrug. "Mind explaining?"

"Later," José replies. "It seems you two will need some education if you're going to be on my crew. I can't expect the Kessu to understand advanced warp theories, but if I have you, it will make my workload lighter."

Soren holds her hands up helplessly. "I am always willing to learn, but I am a better programming specialist than a technician. My knowledge of theoretical physics is quite limited."

"I'm probably better than Soren at light repair-work," Megla offers, "but I'm no expert. Commander Orgon always told me I was well-rounded, and that's why he made me his First Officer."

"Noted," José says. He glances at the Kessu and smiles. "You should all come with me. I'll help you get comfortable during your stay."

"Oh, yes indeed, great Precursor!" Elder Nyoor meows. "You've done so much for us already. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts!"

José rubs Nyoor's head affectionately, no longer bothering with using 'greetings' as an excuse. He turns and starts walking toward the hangar's lower exit doors, then shoots a glance over his shoulder at Megla and Soren. "You two, come along as well, please. I'll set you both up with comfortable rooms."

"We're here at your convenience," Megla replies, curtly.

.......................................

Several minutes later, José walks at a much slower pace than usual, allowing the short-legged Kessu to keep up with him. Nyoor and Baaru follow along, chattering quietly with the youngest kittens and a few of the adult Kessu. Soren and Megla flank José on his right and left, respectively.

"...and over there, those are the mess halls," José says, indicating a pair of double doors leading into a sizable room. "Unfortunately, we haven't any biomatter in storage. We'll have to live off whatever we can scrounge up for the immediate future, and none of the replicators appear to be in working order."

José glances at Megla. "Speaking of which, what do Kraktol eat? Meat?"

Megla smirks. "Only the finest. Don't worry, though. We know how to survive off plants if absolutely necessary. It isn't preferable, though."

"Mmm. I see."

The Admiral's eyes casually glance around for a moment, before he asks a seemingly random question. "Perchance, could you explain to me the general level of Mallali and Radok technology in this modern era? What about the Buzor and Avaru?"

Not expecting José's random inquiry, Megla frowns and glances at Soren. Soren nods, as if answering an unspoken request.

"Admiral," Soren says, "the Mallali are currently the most powerful primary branch of all the species in the Milky Way. They control the Core, and thus, their power greatly exceeds that of the Kraktol, but only for now."

"For now?" José echoes. "Is something going to change?"

Rather than directly answer his question, Soren continues. "The Mallali typically possess fleets of warships in the range of second to eighteenth era technology. There are several outliers, including the Dakkit Emperor's personal flagship, a thirtieth-era battlecruiser with more firepower than anything else I've heard of, but such a mighty vessel is a rarity, even among the Mallali."

The yellow-scaled Kraktol continues. "The reason I imply this balance may not persist forever is due to the Thülvik's recent gains involving Rylon's Precursor Shipyard. Our leader obtained a fully complete, entirely functional, automated ship manufacturing facility far beyond anything the Mallali possess. The Mallali may own incredible fleets of deadly warships, but every time one of their ships falls in battle, they've no way to build new ones, nor to repair the damaged ones."

A look of pride appears on Megla's face. "Hah! That's right. Wretched Mallali. They use their existing power to enforce a terrible regime upon all the non-Mallali within the galaxy, but the more time that passes, the more power the Thülvik will obtain. Eventually, even if we possess only 'inferior' third-era technology, we will overwhelm the Mallali with our numbers."

Admiral Rodriguez nods, reserving judgment for later. He leads the Kessu and Kraktol deeper into the ship, toward the high-level crew quarters some distance from the Bridge. "I see. Are there truly no other species who possess functional shipyards? Why can't the Mallali repair damaged vessels? Why not build their own shipyards?"

Megla laughs awkwardly. "Hah... we don't fully understand Precursor technology! There are many well-known scientists and innovators who have made names for themselves merely deciphering recovered Terran texts, rebuilding Terran artifacts, and generally doing anything they can to comprehend the lost Terran ways. Six thousand years have passed since the Thülvik obtained the Rylon Shipyard, and even within all that time, we have yet to fully understand its intricacies. Terran technology is far too incredible for us to fully decipher."

Soren nods, a look of shame on her face. "I took fourteen years of Terran Studies under the great archaeologist, Morkus Hornbelt. He was one of the few legendary Kraktol with hundreds of years of Precursor knowledge locked inside his mind, and I barely understood a fraction of it. There was simply too much to wrap my head around."

Curious, Megla glances at José. "How were your people able to comprehend the countless eons of technical improvement inherent in each starship, while also innovating further?"

The Admiral laughs. "Haha. Biochips. Most Terrans had a memory-enhancing biochip implanted at birth. Downloading the knowledge of our history was standard. After that, we learned more specialized information until all Terrans met the prerequisites needed to succeed on their chosen career paths."

Soren nods. "Biochips. Yes, many scientists have recovered such devices, but they were unable to adapt them to Mallali or Rodak physiology, nor the other species. Plenty of ongoing research involves comprehending such incredible Precursor artifacts, but to this day, not a single being has ever successfully adapted a biochip to their body."

"Not that we know of, at least," Megla says, correcting Soren. "I doubt the Mallali higher-ups would ever admit if they'd accomplished such a feat. They would hoard the knowledge for themselves, just as they do everything else."

"Indeed," Soren affirms with a sad nod.

José falls silent. He communicates with Umi mentally.

[Umi. You heard everything our Kraktol guests said. How do their words match up with your analysis?]

Umi beeps in response. [Admiral Rodriguez. The statements made by the Kraktol are 98.7% accurate, with a slight deviation easily explained by missing information. In fact there are more than five known vessels the Mallali control which are close to thirtieth-era technology.]

[Five instead of one? Sounds like Megla and Soren merely overlooked that information.]

Satisfied, José's smile brightens considerably. He looks at the two Kraktol females as they chat with one another about how angry the Thülvik will be, oblivious to his gaze. The realization that they didn't lie to him makes him feel just a bit better about their prospects as his crew-mates.

...

Several minutes later, after traveling for nearly two kilometers, the party of twenty-plus creatures arrives at the crew quarters-area. Dozens of doors appear along along the corridor's left and ride sides, revealing entrances to rooms numbered one through one hundred.

"This area is for senior officers only," José says. "As a former Private, I've never slept here. I was too low of a rank to enter these rooms. Let's have a look and see what's inside."

At the revelation of his previous military rank, José once again surprises the Kraktol, making them both wonder if he's joking. They say nothing, though, and merely follow along obediently.

Jose walks up to Room 1, the Admiral's room. However, the door doesn't open, nor does the holo-display above its opening bleep with recognition.

"Umi? Is something wrong with the Admiral's room?"

José voices his concern to the ship's synthmind, who replies a moment later.

"Affirmative. The crew quarters have suffered serious degradation as a result of the passage of time. You will need to force the doors open to enter."

"Great. Just what I wanted to hear."

With a massive eye-roll, José steps forward and pauses for a moment. His dermal armor activates, covering his body in a layer of exosteel. Megla and Soren take a step back, reflexively, as fearful memories appear in their minds, while the Kessu stare at José with confusion.

"Why is the Precursor covered in shiny metal?" Lele asks her grandfather.

"I don't know." Nyoor says. The four-foot tall Kessu rests his paws on her shoulders protectively.

The Admiral grabs hold of the door. His muscles bulge as he digs his fingers into the ultra-hard metal and grunts fiercely. "Hrrrrrrgggh!!!"

A terrible screeching sound, like a chainsaw grinding against steel, makes everyone but José flinch and jump back while covering their ears. The door shudders violently as several eons of rust and dust crackle and tear from its many joints. Unlike the hangar doors, which remained relatively maintained thanks to the functioning Filth Expunger Units, the crew quarters received no such treatment.

Suddenly, the door loses its last bit of resistance. It flies open and slides into its cubby to the right, smashing against its inner sidewall with a violent slam!

José stumbles forward, his grip gone, and trips over his own feet. "Ugh!"

He flops against the ground, landing amidst a half-inch-thick layer of dust which sprays in every direction. The horrifically filthy room explodes into a gag-inducing cloud of heaven-knows-what, making all of the Kessu and Kraktol retreat dozens of steps to avoid enraging the dust devils.

"Kah! Admiral, are you okay?" Megla calls out, gasping for breath.

José sneezes. "Wah-choo! Ptuh! Fine, but- pah! My eyes are watering, kah-kah!"

The Admiral stumbles out of the room. He rubs his metal covered eyes to try and get the dust out of them, only to aggravate the situation further thanks to the copious amount of filth caked onto his hands from when they touched the floor.

"Galaxies! I didn't think it would be this bad! Umi, help me out here!"

Several seconds pass. Umi replies with a friendly beep. "Orders acknowledged, Admiral. Would you like for me to sing you a song?"

"A song?! No! Send over a cleaning bot! Help me clean this crap off my body!"

Clearly agitated, José yells angrily at Umi, who merely beeps in reply.

"Orders acknowledged. There is a cleaning station within the room you've just opened. I estimate it is 75% functional. Please allow it twenty-six seconds to clear its passageways before use."

"Great! Thanks..."

José drags himself back to the Admiral's bathroom, gingerly stepping through the dust so as to not kick up a cloud of filth. He walks into the bathroom, presses a button, and activates the sonic shower...

Only for it to spew out an incalculable amount of dust from the showerhead above, enraging the Admiral further.

"Argh! Umi!"

"Twenty-one seconds remain. Please be patient, Admiral. The sonic drain-lines are filled with debris. It will take a few more moments to clear them out."

Admiral Rodriguez falls silent, too miserable to complain further. His metal-covered skin makes him look like a sad robot as he waits for the sonic shower to stop spewing dirt. Eventually, it does, and he steps inside, allowing its cleansing sound-waves to pummel his body.

A minute later, José disengages the dermal armor protecting him, allowing the sonic shower to finally cleanse his body and strip the grime off his skin. He moans audibly as his annoyance melts away. "Ahhhh... I should've done this sooner."

"Admiral?" Soren calls from outside. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yup!" José says, smiling as he directs the purifying sonic-waves around the shower and out into the Admiral's room. Like magic, the silent sonic-blasts obliterate the debris everywhere they hit, clearing out the entirety of the bathroom and some of the area just outside the bathroom door. "I'll be out in a minute!"

The Kraktol and the Kessu fall silent. As they wait for José to clean himself, they suddenly become more conscious of their proximity to one another, making Megla eyeball them with disgust, while the Kessu look at her with visible anger.

"...lice-riddled scum."

"Swamp-bather!" Lele replies.

Thanks to his hearing implants, José sighs.

"...I wonder if they'll ever become friends?"