The Parrot Protocol

The mercenary crew of the Stingray Eclipse had seen their fair share of bizarre missions—smuggling alien orchids, disabling rogue AIs, even stealing a moon once. But this was a first.

“Repeat that,” said Vex, the ex-Marine tactician, her voice sharp over the comm.

The client’s message crackled back through the speakers. "Rescue a parrot. From the Phaedra-9 research station. Alive.”

A moment of silence passed. Then Jag, the pilot, burst out laughing. “Please tell me it talks. Or explodes.”

“It talks,” said Sera, the hacker, scrolling through the mission file. “Genetically modified. High-value military asset. Codename: Archimedes. Speaks fifteen languages and knows a dozen access codes.”

“I once dated a guy like that,” muttered Rook, the sniper, loading his plasma rifle.

Phaedra-9 loomed ahead, silent and adrift—its comms dark, its orbit decaying. Something had gone wrong.The crew breached the airlock. Inside, the station was a wreck. Lights flickered. Blood smeared the walls. Lab doors hung open.

“Looks like the scientists lost control of something,” Vex said, sweeping her rifle. “Stay sharp.”

“Life signs detected,” Sera said. “One. Moving fast.”

Moments later, a blur of green and red feathers shot past, squawking: “Evacuation protocol overridden! Feed me crackers, you fools!”

“That’s our bird,” Jag grinned.

But then the walls pulsed—and from the shadows slithered a cybernetically enhanced gorilla, eyes glowing, metal claws humming.

“Contain the subject!” it roared. Apparently, the lab's security system had gone feral.

“New plan,” Vex growled. “Grab the bird. Don’t die.”

Rook fired a stun bolt, dropping the gorilla for a moment. Sera grabbed Archimedes as he yelled, “Self-destruct in T-minus— Never mind, wrong protocol!”

They sprinted for the shuttle. Explosions rocked the station behind them as they blasted off. The crew collapsed into their seats, breathless.

The parrot flapped up to the console and pecked the controls.

“Course set. Next time, bring crackers.”

Vex groaned. “If this thing gets us killed, I’m eating it.”

Archimedes squawked smugly.“Classified military secret, featherhead.”

They were going to need more than crackers.