Left, right, forward, down, up he walked in all directions except backwards, following the neon green arrows that would lead him to the prisoner. Corridors appeared and disappeared, always the same dull grey colour. He did not walk through a single door, even though there were plenty of them along the sides, always with two numbers in black.
Until he found himself in front of the 'prison' cell, where the arrows ended. Number 999 999, his feet had started to hurt. Not for the first time, he wondered if the AI was just messing with him.
It was all worth it however, to meet an anarchistic Gnarling. A dream come true!
"Right, I'm where the arrows are pointing. Open Sesame!" He felt silly talking to the empty air. More so when the air didn't respond.
"Hello, do I knock or something?" Still silence, fine if that how the AI wanted to play. He walked forward to knock and the door opened before him... fucking AI.
Walking inside, it was just a small room, like a thousands he had seen before. A universal standard of one bed and one desk, both in that transparent blue plastic stuff. It looked terrible against the gray walls, and the gray bed covers. The bed was made, everything was orderly and in it's place, nothing on fire either, had he been sold the cat in the bag?
He was about to leave when a movement under the bed caught his eye. Slowly, keeping an eye over his shoulder, he turned towards the exit. He was right! Something moved up from beneath the bed. Hairy on two legs with two arms, a bit above waist high, looking almost but not entirely like humanoid mice, that's a Gnarling!
He was so exited he could scream, standing still he wondered what it would do? Slowly the Gnarling took one step forward, then another. Closer and closer to him. Nope no weapons in his hands, was he going for a tackle? When the Gnarling was only a meter away, it jumped forward. Prepared he turned to meet his assailant! Instead he was embraced in a hug. A bit to tight, but not all together unpleasant.
"Ehm, what are you doing?" He said to the Gnarling around his waist.
"I'm crushing you to death, intruder!" Responded the little thing in return.
"Your assassination attempt needs some work."
They seemed to be in a stalemate, as the Gnarling did not want to let go of his presumed lethal hold, and he saw no real reason to force him to.
A voice came streaming out of the speakers. "Shall I space him? As punishment for attempted assassination of the captain." It was the computer, coming to save him. Well save and save, bloodthirstily threatening a hugging Gnarling.
"Captain?" The little creature around his waist sai. He could imagine the steam coming out of his long ears, as he tried to reconcile the idea of an intruder and a captain into one.
"At attention!" He said after a flash of inspiration. Always wanted to try that one, and the Gnarling did not disappoint.
Releasing his grip and taking a step back before slugging his head to his face so fast he could have sworn he felt the wind drag from it, before it hit his head with a loud thud. "Yes captain!"
It lasted only for a moment before the hand was lowered and a frown once again cowered his face. "Wait, how can you be captain?"
"Paragraph 9 Section 2 under emergency captain ordering." The computer shimmed in.
"Ah, of course, obvious really." The Gnarling replied. Obviously, he had a screw lose if that was obvious from the just a bunch of numbers.
"So now, as your captain-" He started.
"I'm mutenering." Been captain for under an hour and already he had a mutiny on his hands, that got to be some sort of record.
"You can't do a muteny! I'm the captain and your a Gnarling. Isn't here some instruction book somewhere that tells you that?" For once he could take advantage of the species compulsion to follow rules. Of course the rules would have a rule against that!
"The manual specifies many sections and paragraphs concerning mutiny. Perhaps you could quote some of them?"
"I haven't even read it!"
"AHA!"
"You have really done it now, my offer to space him is still open!" The ever so helpful, and terrifying, computer shimmed in.
"What have I 'really' done? Not read a book?"
"That's precisely what you haven't!" The Gnarling looked possibly triumphant. "Meaning that your unfit to be a captain and I can, according to the manual, do an orderly mutiny."
"Orderly mutiny?" He knew this Gnarling would be different, but some words just did not go together.
"Im sure I will get a medal for my triumphant resistance." He said, with still triumphant looking face on him.
"Since I seem to be the only one on this ship, including the ship, that haven't read the book... what is orderly mutiny? Will you stop following orders or something?"
"Far far worse, I will attempt to sabotage you every move. During work hours, eight hours a day, five days a week, with some vacation and possible some overtime if its demanded."
"Who would demand overtime mutiny?"
"Well, perhaps you feel that the mutiny doesn't live up to your standards, some overtime can help fix that."
"Just a reminder captain, space is always open."
"Will you stop with the space thing"
"Im a space ship, captain."
"Touché! I meant talking about putting living beings into space."
"How you wound me. Am I not alive? If you cut me do it not bleed?"
"Is that a trick question? And you know what I mean!" And he was supposed to be the deranged one. Now were did the Gnarling go he was in front of him just a moment ago. Dammit, he didn't even know his name. "Hey computer, were is the Gnarling that was here just a moment ago? And do you have something to call him by other than Gnarling?"
"I believe he has about one hour of mutiny to do before his work day is over. He is sometimes refereed to as Mickey." Mickey Mouse? Is the computer messing with him again?
"What's his real name? And you didn't actually tell me where he is!" This was getting really annoying, it would be easier with something that didn't need to take verbal commands.
"His formal name is Useless#1563, and the rules for orderly mutiny restricts me from giving you that information. I can however tell you that if he goes into the enginroom then I will consider that a hostile action and... deal with him." It seems the ship hadn't forgotten the fire incident that got him put here in the first place.
"I'm the captain, shouldn't I have full control over stuff like that?" This was just silly, come on. Mutineers should not be shielded by the ship they were mutenering on!
"Of course, just give me the codes."
"Codes? What codes?" His first thought after the words had left his lips, was that the computer was probably referring to the access codes needed for complete control. Which he didn't have.
"Yes, that is the problem isn't it?
Gah, this computer would be the death of him. Oh well, how much damage could one little Mickey do? Except for lightning the whole ship on fire... shit.
In the far of future, of one week, the Gnarling captain and the dreaded pirates nemesis, as he now called himself. Had assembled his mighty fleet, of three ships, and gone forth to the pirates last known location. Only to find, nothing.
"Clever one." No, not really. "Violating laws of staying still after boarding and taking command of a vessel for inspection. Terrible, really." The rest of the crew gave the captain a look that had become rutin by now containing with a mixture of surprise and disappointment, that he was indeed the captain. He encapsulated some of the core essence of a Gnarling, as view by other species, which was not usually in a good light. But a sort of roughish one, only used as a desperate attempt to cover for the lack of cleaning done when your parents pops in for a visit.
They themselves save them as orderly and extremely law abiding species, upon which backs whole societies rested. Slaves had been used sometimes by the other species, but they paid them little mind in that aspect, mostly cause their minds were fully occupied remembering all the rules and regulations.
Stupid seemed to be a core concept to them, but that was just flashing of extremities and mirrors. Completely true, but only from a certain perspective. They were loyal, humble and nice. Idiots sure, but nice ones, except when the rules told them not to.
Fearsome during battle, as they always followed the strategy no matter the cost. Like that time they all charged the gas giant, cause of a confusing misnaming of the enemy flagship. They had given it a good old thrashing, to bad the enemy fleet used that time to bombard the planet they were supposed to be defending.
But as long as your plan took into consideration all eventualitys, the Gnarlings would perform admiraly. And so they were rather liked by armchair generals, who thought they knew everything and no decision made in the field could possible outsmart their grand plan. This is pretty much everyone once you get high enough up in any decently sized military, this explains the wide use of Gnarlings in every part of society, despite their leaning on absolute truths.
It's said that once a Gnarling has learned something, it's as sure as a green sky. Which always resulted in a room filled with confused Gnarlings and one in the back, that had indeed been told it was green, speaking up with a trusty old "Ha, told you so!".
"Has the shipping tracking got anything yet." Asked the captain to his first officer, who would then digitally send the command and receive the reply. Nedlessly complicated but elegant, and allowed for the captain to scream heroic orders in the middle of battle. Safe in the knowledge that his trusty old first officer would probably not hear them.
"No sir, we are countninouning the sniffing, but so far nothing." Why it was called 'sniffing' when you tried to pick up the faint traces of a ships hyper engine was something of a mystery. But only if you didn't think to hard about their mouse like appearances.
"Keep sniffing, by paragraph 7 section 2 I will get you damn pirate!" Calling out sections was always a favorite among the high command. Leaning against the book was seen as good leadership by the men, eh mouse below.
"Is that heading "Ding Dong the Pirate is dead" or "Sniffing in space, a practical guide"" It should be said, that not all parts of the book is written by Gnarlings.
"Oh, its both first officer, its both. Muahahahahah!" Gnarlings were very susceptible to the mood around them. Which meant that the slight madness that had infected the ship was spreading at an alarming rate. Originating in the captain himself, speculating that this was caused by constant contact with... 'her', was rampart. Which is to say, someone said it once over lunch. A practically mutenering spirit was felt all over the ship. Some didn't even clean the corners properly anymore.
....
Sorry for being later than usual and with worse editing. On cellphone inside a tent, it's very warm, send water. Preferable in ice form.