The ship upon which Captain Resquilatron and his motley crew rode was their second-most valuable object. Without it, they would never be able to be the scourge upon the galaxy that they so loved being. And having been with them since the beginning, even the thick-skinned Captain had gained a sort of familiarity with its oddities. Of course amongst the vessels of the galaxy, their ship ranked firmly, absolutely dead last.
In almost every category, it functioned categorically abysmally. It looked and worked like a pile of scraps and had, on several occasions, been mistaken for one, almost being hauled away to a dumping ground to be smelted and harvested. They did not stop when they realised the ship was inhabited, no.
They stopped when they realised that it would cost them more to melt down than the worth of the raw materials they would get.
Still, it was their ship, and such a statement of value was subjective. In fact, from an objective standpoint, its place at the bottom of the hierarchy in a way actually made it valuable for its rarity. That and, of course, the sheer density of anomalies that resided therein.
But out of all the Captain's motley crew, those we have seen and those we have yet to encounter, there was one figure above all for whom the ship was their closest companion. The one who was rarely seen, perpetually at work deep within the bowels of the ship, in that horrid place where logic twists and distorts.
The Engine Room.
We speak, of course, of Starshoulder. The sole resident mechanic, over the years, he had formed quite a bond with the ship. One-sided, no doubt, but still. From his perspective, it was like his child.
And in raising a child, what is the most important thing to remember, if not discipline.
The corridor leading to the Engine Room was dark, but largely unchanged from the rest of the ship, apart from the gradually exposed pipes and wiring. It was only as you ventured deeper, approaching that rusted copper door that marked its true boundary, that it truly started.
It was, according to Hexagoneye's infallible analysis, a biome unique across the entire galaxy. How it formed, how it is controlled, whether it would one day explode outwards, transforming the whole ship and subsuming it into its cancerous mass. These were questions none of them knew the answers to.
With the sole exception of Starshoulder, of course.
Past that copper door, painted sloppily in an oily colour 'Engine Room', was his territory. Within that forest, he was the sole hunter. And there was no prey there, except for the malevolent will of the Engine Room which he had to beat into submission.
It hadn't always been like this. But years of cheap-work arounds and shortcuts had transformed it from a normal, if subpar engine, into a veritable abomination capable of sending any other mechanic into a catatonic state. Strange pipes that shone with colours that didn't exist, entire sections that would disappear overnight, only to re-appear weeks later.
Pulsating wires that seemed more biological than mechanical. The true depths of the Engine Room was something that even Starshoulder hesitated to say for certain. Disregarding banal laws such as the limited volume of the ship itself, it seemed to be growing endlessly, like a living organism. It was easy to get lost within the maze it had begun.
The once thin hand-book had been scribbled and drawn over so many times by Starshoulder that it more resembled an insane cultist's ritual book. And to an extent, it was. Aimed at appeasing The Engine Room, rather than some unknowable eldritch entity.
"An eldritch entity might have been preferable. At least with them, you know where you stand, you know?"
Starshoulder spoke to himself. Spending days on end in silence had a tendency to wear down on his sanity (well, whatever little he had left. None of the crew of that abominable ship are normal, it's just the manner of their insanity that differs), so he had a habit of talking to the air.
Or perhaps to the Engine Room itself.
Starshoulder lifted the yellow lantern at his shoulder, squinting as he overlooked a section of the wall.
"How strange," he muttered.
Well, strange beyond the usual standard at least. This section of the Engine Room was, for lack of a better term, shy. It rarely appeared in normal flight, yet ever since landing on the planet it had not gone away.
It wasn't an area of regular maintenance, so that usually wasn't a problem. Except now it was misbehaving. Starshoulder tugged at the lever, but it refused to budge.
"Hmmm, now I am at least 95% sure that the way I entered was through there."
The door was firmly closed, refusing to open as he tugged at the lever with all the force he could bear. Giving up, he brought an ear closer to the pipes and concentrated, knocking on them softly with a spanner.
"Hollow."
No sloshing of strange liquids or the bounciness of skin-like material. No jagged edges either. Just a normal, hollow, metal pipe. He leafed through his hand-book, arriving at a certain page, and realisation dawned on his face.
"I knew this had happened before. What was it...the last time must have been..."
He paused, his grim tone belying his masked expression.
"No, it couldn't have. If that was the case surely the Captain would have mentioned it?"
He contemplated what he said for a few moments, before realising who he was talking about and sagged his shoulders in defeat.
"Of course he wouldn't have. Fleebus take him, but not before globuleday," he cursed in the darkness. "Well, at least now I know the way to get myself out of this."
He paused once again.
"Wait a second, how did I get out of this last time?"
Leafing through his notebook, his expression grew increasingly dire. Sighing in a manner that would have Squareface impressed, he brought his head to his hands.
"Not a day off in weeks, and the Captain springs this overtime on me without even a semblance of a fair warning? That's it Starshoulder, you have to put your foot down. Unionisation is the only way to get better working conditions, it simply can't go on like this!"
Alas, for such a thing to happen, he would first have to figure a way out. And he wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but it seemed like the walls were a lot closer in than a few minutes ago.
"It just keeps getting worse, doesn't it? Man I wish Hexagoneye was here..."
Unfortunately, his plea for help dissipated into the air, dissolving away into nothingness. Only the noises of the Engine Room remained, clunking, cluttering, roaring and sloshing in the background.
Shifting the spanner in his hand, he surveyed the pipes before him with a sadistic glint in his eyes. The Engine Room may have been a liminal space of unknown power and danger, but there was no better man suited to the task than he.
Lightly tapping the black star symbol on his left chest, Starshoulder cracked his neck, he muttered to himself wearily.
"Time to get to work."