Bug Hunt

Vas was waging a war.

By all appearances, it was a war against dirt, grime and years of growing crud in the corners who may or may not have gain sentience and was plotting rebellion. Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic but Vas didn’t like the idea of an infestation on what was becoming his home. It was supposed to be a haven, not a place where you were wondering who was listening to what. Honestly, he didn’t know why anyone WOULD plant bugs? To achieve what? Hear the gossip between the crew?

It didn’t make sense to him but that just made him like it even less. At the end of that day, people should be allowed to keep their secrets so long as it didn’t put the crew or ship in danger. No questions asked right?

He respected that! Hell, he himself enjoyed the privacy of keeping his own secrets as well! Others should too! Without fear or worry!

So he cleaned, fingers reaching into nooks and crannies, under the lips of counter and bottoms of tables, deep in the back of cabinets. No place was spared or left untouched. Sure it may have looked weird looking so OCD to be cleaning everything top to bottom but he needed to know how bad it was.

Serena had her hands full with the staterooms and he kept Gill and Haddie confined to the cargo bay taking care of puppies and Drogs. Busy hands kept them all out of trouble. Which was why he really didn’t suspect them of any wrongdoing regarding the bugs. But he kept them out of the way while he ‘cleaned’ the hot spots.

It wasn’t the most glorious of work but it had to be done and Vas did so with single-minded focus. However, there were only two places over the course of four days he did not or rather could not touch. The cockpit and the engine room.

The engine was a no-brainer the hum and noise would drown out any sound a bug might pick up plus bugs never did so well in places like that and if there was one it was a futile effort. Also not really his realm and he had no reason to be poking about there unless there Engineer needed him. Which she never did.

The cockpit he wouldn’t have access to till they landed. Again a futile effort to plant anything there but still worth a check once the bear of a pilot was done hibernating. Vas was just that type. Paranoid and protective but most of all thorough.

Four days of strait cleaning. By the end of it, Vas had mapped out most if not all the locations of there infestation. He sat in his little corner of the cargo bay, not unlike a barn cat, with smoke curling from his black cigarette. Eyes thoughtful, sharp and gears visibly turning in his head. The only thing missing was the idle flick of a tail to complete the image.

The real question Vas was trying to parse out was … What now?

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