Newly promoted Commander Knobber left the spire of Tower HQ and descended the fifty floors downwards in the elevator running through the core of the building, before alighting at Sub-Dock Zero Five to inspect his new charge; The Columbidae.

He let out an involuntary moan of approval as he eyed up the ship.  Every inch was perfect, from her aerodynamic yet blocky nose, upward tilting wings housing three oxygen generating backup engines and mounted with four plasma cannons each - two on top and two below - and her exhausts... Oh, her exhausts...

“Hey baby,” said newly promoted Commander Knobber as he ran his fingers down the Columbidae’s smooth body, “How about you let me take you for a spin?” he winked suggestively, still in awe.  “I've got the keys to the gates of paradise...” he sighed, “but I've got too many legs...  Ain’t that a headfuck.”

More than anything at that moment, Knobber wanted a beer to take his mind out of the gutter and off of the sexy body of his new craft, but he was meant to be in the AAA.  Given his newly promoted status, being seen falling from the wagon would be a decidedly poor idea so he gave in to desire and began roughly humping the Columbidae’s primary exhaust pipe.

“Oi!” Yelled a voice from inside the ship, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to my damn bird?”

Commander Knobber froze mid thrust before guiltily peering around his charges rear end to see a pair of knee-high booted and leather clad legs - shapely legs at that - descending from the now open cargo hangar.  Said legs were topped off rather nicely with an even more shapely-in-all-the-right-places white vest top and a swathe of purple hair in a ponytail atop her head.

She was frowning, which was quite an achievement when taking into consideration that she only had one singular eye.

Not a single eye as in she once had two and lost the other and not a cyclops eye in the middle of her forehead, just an eye positioned above her nose in between where her eyes would have been if she had possessed a pair of them.  

“Your bird?” Knobber Asked, “Oh eye? I mean oh aye?”

She continued to glare. “Congratulations, aren't you an observant one.” She remarked sarcastically, “Yes I have one eye and no, it is not open for discussion. Why are you humping my ship?”

“Mumblemumble... beer,” mumbled Knobber quietly.

“Ah.” She nodded, “Android Alcoholics Anonymous. Not going well eh? You don't look like any android I've ever seen, that’s for sure,” she said as she looked at the mechanical muscular shoulder and torso which were just visible at the arse end of the ship.

“I opted out of the skin,” Knobber said with a shrug.  “Anyway, I'm Commander Knobber of the Columbidae - as in this baby - so why the hell are you in it?”

“I’m your assigned crew,”

“What? All of it?”

“Yup,” the one eyed woman grinned, “Weapons expert, engineer, mechanic, co-pilot... I make a mean homebrew too.”

“Botometrist? Andromanist? Roboteopathy?” countered Knobber, not one to be outdone and purposefully ignoring the remark about beer.

“Studying for ‘em.”

Knobber opened his mechanoid maw to shoot the girl a cutting remark, but he was interrupted by a burst of static from the chunky comms band on her wrist.

“All personnel of the Columbidae, please report to floor fifty-point-zero-niner.  Immediately.  That means you, newly promoted Commander Knobber.”

“Noob.”

* * * * * *

“Ah,” said Supreme Admiral Commander Kirk of the Tower Fleet, “Knobber, Titty,” he said as he shook each of their hands, “I’d like to introduce you to Dick, our new Botometrist.”

Both Knobber and Titty visibly recoiled at the horrific neon glow created by the shock of sheer gingerness upon the head of the lad standing behind S-A-C-Kirk.  He waved, causing strawberry blonde light to refract painfully in all directions.

“Please, take a seat,” Kirk gestured to the table in the centre of the room.  “And some sunglasses,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought.

They sat obediently, Dick re-quiffing his ginger wall of hair whilst Knobber and Titty both thunk filthy thoughts about the Columbidae.

“Look up,” said Supreme Admiral Commander Kirk, “What do you see?”

“Errr... Glass?” Ventured Dick,

“Pigeons?” Titty mused,

“Pigeon shit,” said Knobber.  “On the glass.  Why are we here Kirk?”

The Supreme Admiral Commander drummed his fingers against the table,  “I have disturbing news,” he said anxiously, “Aliens are here to resurrect the dead.”

“Seriously?” Dick laughed, “That’s the entire plot of Plan 9 from Outer Space. Are you telling me I had to postpone my appointment with a vending machine with chocophobia for this?”

“See, the thing is...” Kirk began, clearly nervous, “What I am about to tell you is, to be quite honest, completely preposterous.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Titty snapped, clearly impatient, “Just spit it out man.”

Kirk huffed, “Fine.  I assume that I have no need to remind you all of the Tower Fleet Secrecy Protocol... and the consequences of breaching said protocol?”

Titty, Dick and Knobber looked at each other and then at S-A-C-Kirk in disbelief.  Surely nothing could be more absurd than the plot of Plan 9.

Shaking his grey streaked head, Kirk extended a lean forefinger towards the communications pod before him, tapping in a single com code and opening up an encrypted line to its recipient.  

“Lieutenant, bring in the pigeon,” he instructed.  All eyes turned to the door which slid soundlessly open.  A middle aged Android dressed in standard Tower Fleet uniform stepped into the room carrying a small cage which contained a pigeon, mindlessly pottering about in the manner that pigeons are prone to.

The door slid closed. Ominously so.

“Tell me,” Kirk smiled grimly revealing teeth stained by years of too much coffee and nicotine.  “Have the three of you noticed anything... odd lately?  Knobber, don’t even bother trying to answer.”

“I have,” Dick said quietly, twiddling his thumbs and staring down at the desk.  “It’s the A.I, Mechs, Droids, Bots... They’ve all been, well, paranoid - out of sorts - I haven’t been able to get to the bottom of it.”

“Indeed,” Kirk nodded, “Now tell me, have any of you ever seen a baby pigeon?  Knobber...” he warned menacingly as he raised an eyebrow.

“I haven’t,” admitted Titty whilst Dick and Knobber shook their heads.

“Bring it here,” Kirk gestured to the Android who complied, moving forward to set the small cage on the desk in front of the Supreme Admiral Commander.  “Now kill it.”

“Thou shalt not harm,” the Android said mechanically, which could, of course be considered ironic.

“Bullshit,” spat Kirk, “You’re a fucking Lieutenant, you’ve killed.  Dick, be a good boy and wipe the last two hours from his memory cache, blank him for five minutes after too so we can get him out of here.”

Dick rose to his feet like an obedient puppy and stepped towards the Droid. Withdrawing a compact toolkit from the inside pocket of his bright red bomber jacket, he selected a cyclic polygon screwdriver and proceeded to remove of the rear section of the Androids skull.  

As he tinkered away in regions unknown to the other occupants of the room with the possible exception of the pigeon, the crystals behind the Lieutenant’s LCD eyes became misaligned, showing nothing but static as Dick did as he was bid before escorting the Lieutenant to the elevator and setting his course for the ground floor.

“I’ll do it,” Knobber volunteered as Dick retook his seat at the table, “What?  Don’t be so fucking judgemental.  I’m a fucking skinless robot for gods sake, do I look like I’ve got morals?” He asked of the shocked faces surrounding him.

Grasping the opposing corners of the flimsy cage, Knobber twisted the metal, bending it until the door sprung open as the pigeon squawked and flapped its dirty grey wings in the corner.  His left arm made a curious ‘chuggachugga-crunk’ sound as it extended; like the bastard child of Inspector Gadget and the venting hose of a cheap tumble dryer.  

Reaching into the ruined cage, he grasped the neck of the pigeon and squeezed.  The creatures beady eyes bulged for a tortuous moment as they filled with blood, its beak opening and closing soundlessly in a silent protestation.  Vivid red dribbled from its dull beak, discolouring its insipid feathers as it drew its last breath.

Titty and Dick looked on in horror.  Kirk merely smiled knowingly as the pigeon expired.  Feeling the life leave its body, Knobber released his grasp, his hand retracting back into his arm with the same ‘chuggachugga-crunk’ as before.  

With a distinct popping sound, the pigeon disappeared in a puff of greenish poo and feathers.  Eyebrows were raised and breaths were held - in anticipation - though it may have just been due to the smell of avian faecal matter which suddenly polluted the air inside the bland office.

The mangled cage seemed empty for a moment.  As the non-Avian onlookers onlooked, the space around the mangled metal seemed to distort and twist, expanding outwards before folding back into place.  The interior of the cage shimmered as the air within became fuzzy, almost as though it was in the midst of a heated argument with itself.

“Keep watching,” Kirk prompted, noticing the short attention span of his companions almost too late as the fuzzy air bulged outwards, tiny puffs of fur appearing as if from nowhere before snapping back and taking shape once more.

The air inside the cage twirled and twisted like a child with a spirograph on crack.  Fuggy and tangible, the nothingness spat out the tiniest pins of sharp, spiny fur before it converged, creating a new form...

A form which brought back childhood memories, memories of monsters hiding in the wardrobe, of sucking thumbs and twisted clowns...

Deep within the recesses of the cage, a teddy bear appeared.