Chapter 48. Skitterbach.


    The halfling ship didn’t make any move to disconnect the boarding tube, which was fine with Watkins. He was going to use it for its intended purpose once the last of his replacement MOBS were printed up. The fallen, both his, and the invaders, were supplementing the biomass and salvage he was forced to expend in rebuilding his force.


    While the work teams of rat people had cleared out most of the fallen in the shuttle bay, there was still plenty to gather for the team of three drones he placed on that task. Once he was up to ten MOBS, Watkins reset the barricades in the shuttle bay, having his troops take position behind them. Once they spotted Watkins’ forces, the pair of halflings left to defend their end of the boarding tube ducked completely behind their defenses, unwilling to engage in sniping with his forces.


    There was likely a camera or sensor that would detect when Watkins tried to attack, and that meant he had additional work for his drones to do once the attack began. When his troops grabbed a foothold on the halfling ship, he needed the drones to sweep for any self destruct mechanism or other failsafe methods the halflings might have cooked up. It would be bad news if the boarding hatch suddenly detached after he started using it in earnest.


    “Lani, what should we do with these two rats eating us out of house and home in the galley?” Watkins asked, wanting her input on the strange situation they found themselves in. He had some time now to deal with it before his troops were up to full strength.


    “We should at least try to communicate with them and maybe find out where they were taken from and how many of their kind are aboard the halfling ship. They could also be of great help with knowing the layout of the enemy vessel and a count of how many crew the halflings have aboard,” Lani offered.


    “Do you think they’re intelligent enough to communicate? They seem kind of primitive,” Watkins asked. Dressed in rags and thoroughly abused from their captivity, the rat people seemed more like beasts than humans to Watkins. Still, the galaxy he found himself in seemed to house stranger things than rat people who were intelligent.


    “If they are intelligent enough to communicate, they likely know galactic common. Maybe send a drone in there and use it to communicate with them?” Lani suggested. Watkins did know that most spacefaring species seemed to have a common language they used with varying degrees of skill.


    “That’s the plan, we’ll go with a drone, I doubt sending one of our halfling MOBS would be a good idea considering the treatment they’ve gotten from their existing captors,” Watkins said.


    He ordered one of his drones to enter through the small access hatch that all his compartments had. It was likely too small for the things in his galley to use to escape, and the smaller drone might not cause as much of a commotion. For the galley, the access hatch was built into the lower portion of the actual hatch.


    When the assigned drone activated the hatch and scuttled inside the galley, the two rat people ran to the far corner of the room, hissing and baring their fangs at the unknown mechanical intruder. After sealing the hatch, Watkins used the drone to project his voice into the compartment. He could have probably done that without the drone, but having a physical focal point for the others to concentrate on might be a better option than just a disembodied voice coming from the walls.


    “I take it you’ve had enough to eat; can you tell me who you are?” Watkins asked in the galactic common language. At least that was one bit of data that had been installed and survived inside his memory.


    The pair seemed to be moving around well enough. Watkins had feared they would overeat and harm themselves, but the two seemed to handle the sudden influx of calories without any ill effect. He repeated his request, watching as the two rat people looked in shock at the drone. Watkins feared they were mindless beasts, but after a moment, the rat with the severed hand seemed to gather his courage enough to respond.


    “Who you? I know you not machine thing. You not one of the hungry ones. What are you?” the rat man asked. His voice and speech pattern were odd. There was a bit of a screeching lisp to his words but was he was easy enough to understand.


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    “I’m Captain Watkins, the commander of this vessel, what is your name?” Watkins asked.


    “I Skitterbach. Why you feed us? Do you want us fat and happy before you feast upon us?” Skitterbach asked, clearly expecting the same treatment his people were probably receiving from their current captors.


    “No, we’re not planning to use you for rations. In fact, we’ll keep anyone else from feeding on you if you help me,” Watkins offered. The second rat seemed to recover his senses at the mention of food, and he looked up at the one-handed rat, who was obviously the one in charge of the duo.


    “Why you help Skitterbach? Why you help verminkin? I see-smell hungry ones on your crew too, they will eat-consume the verminkin even if you’re in charge. They not like to eat-consume rations, not when fresh meat is alive and ready for them,” Skitterbach said. Watkins considered his reply, not wanting to give too much away just yet, but wanting the rat people, who he now knew were called verminkin, to know the threat of being eaten was over.


    “Those are merely part of my crew, servants that do exactly as I say. They will not harm you unless you attempt to harm them, my ship, or any of my other crew,” Watkins said, adding “other crew” to the mix in case he wanted to print up some kobolds to interact with the verminkin.


    “We’ll see-watch if that true. Nobody control hungry ones, at least not for long. What is it you want from Skitterbach?” the verminkin asked.


    “I’m about to board the halfling ship, and I want information about what I’ll find there,” Watkins said. He noted that the twelfth MOBS had just finished production, and it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to strike.


    “Skitterbach knows much. Hungry ones think they beat-hurt him into submission, but Skitterbach watch-waits with eyes open. If you want what Skitterbach know-sees, what can you give-trade in return?” Skitterbach asked. Perhaps there was some kind of deal to be made here, it would all hinge on what the verminkin wanted in return for the information they had.


    “What do you think I can offer that would warrant your assistance?” Watkins asked. Skitterbach went silent for a moment, rubbing the long hair at the end of his chin with his one hand.


    “We want-need to stop being livestock. We want-need food,” Skitterbach said, pointing at the food fabricator and the remains of the feast the two had recently enjoyed.


    “Food, and not to become food is a reasonable enough request, but tell me, Skitterbach, if you could have anything for yourself, for your people, what would it be? Do you want to return to your world? Are you looking for revenge on the halflings?” Watkins asked.


    Not eating them, and providing them food was a given, it was what the humanity that still resided inside Watkins demanded. What he wanted to know was what else made these verminkin tick, what else beside the immediate need for safety and sustenance. If that was all they envisioned, looking for the next meal while staying out of the cooking pot themselves, they were going to be of limited use to him, and Watkins would probably just dump them somewhere safe once they gave him the lowdown on the halfling ship.


    “You really want-desire to know what Skitterbach want-desire?” Skitterbach asked, looking directly at the drone as if it was Watkins himself standing there.


    “That’s what I said, Skitterbach. Tell me what you would have for your people’s future,” Watkins replied.


    “We want what all want-desire. We want power-strength. We want to not be weakest. We want to thrive-live without being hunted,” Skitterbach said with determination.


    “What of your home? Do you wish to return there?” Watkins asked.


    “Verminkin have no home. We no remember where we come from. First memory is when we hide-slink aboard kobold ships. Halflings gather-take us from ships they capture, hold us in their larder. No, our home is here,” Skitterbach said, gesturing toward the ship around him. “Which ship doesn’t matter, as long as there are good places to scurry-hide when we hunted,” Skitterbach said.


    It was as Watkins hoped. These verminkin weren’t tied to any one place. They could be a perfect fit for a crew to supplement his human crew once they located them. Not only would they make the perfect addition to his crew, but Watkins could also give them the very thing they desired.


    “Skitterbach, if you and your people help me here, you’ll have a place aboard my ship, among my crew. Our ship, the Canon, is a warship like no other. Aboard here, you will have the means to fight back against those that would enslave you. I cannot guarantee you will be safe, for this is a ship of war, but I can guarantee that you’ll never be defenseless again.


    “When the halflings, kobolds, and whoever else might be out there see that your people are aboard, they will not see potential prey. Instead, they will feel fear when they realize the threat you will grow into. If you join me, Skitterbach, your people will no longer have to skulk around in the dark corners of the galaxy, they will instead help to conquer it,” Watkins said.


    Hope, greed, and fear warred for control in the eyes of Skitterbach, and Watkins waited to see which of those roiling thoughts and emotions would win the conflict inside his potential ally. The fear left, and a bit of the greed as well, what remained in the gaze that Skitterbach latched onto the drone was one of hope and determination.


    “If you can give-deliver what you promise, Skitterbach and his people will serve-help-fight for Captain Watkins. Tell me, Captain, what do you wish-want to know about the hungry ones?” Skitterbach said. A thin tendril of drool hung from Skitterbach’s mouth as the verminkin considered the future that might now be within his grasp.