“Frumbus!… Guess what…” Limbus Grungo smirked at his wife.

“You didn’t!” she turned, antennae erect, cradling their newborn. Goorulians were birthed from the ground to the exact size they would remain for their lifespan. It was a heavy burden to carry their young for the few months before their blocky legs could sustain their weight.

“I did!”

“Your daddy’s going to be a pilot, Ringus!!!”

“Well, not yet. But I finally passed. I’ll have to go tomorrow to get my ID chip injected and grow my ship. But after that, I’ll be off-planet whenever I want. Whenever we want!” he waddled forward to embrace his family. “I just want to be great for you.”

“You’re great already, Limbus.” Frumbus looked deep into his eyes. “I mean it.”

In celebration, the Grungos touched their antennae together and basked in the calming waves emanating from them for hours. Tranquil energy filled their home, a neat collection of cubes. Baby Ringus was sound asleep long before they completed the ritualistic rubbing of appendages.

Limbus awoke the following day to the delightful, musty scent of his favorite meal, gorgublon pudding. It had all the different shades of brown - exactly how he liked. His eyes grew wide at the glistening puddle of muddy sustenance and his tight little mouth expanded to gobble it down. Frumbus was not a morning person, nor did she like to cook, but kindness was her way.

Along with his special meal, on the table was a small cube that fit perfectly between Limbus’s blocky fingers. When in place, it emitted a white light with an image of him with Frumbus and Ringus.

“For the ship. So even when we’re not with you, you know we are.”

“Thank you, Goo-chunk.” Limbus pressed his flat fingertips against Frumbus’s and moaned, then smacked one of Ringus’s antennae. Despite the wind-back and strength of the slap, it was a loving gesture on Goorulus. “Alright, I have to get going. If I don’t get chipped before Youg rises, I’ll have to wait another year.”

“Plenty of time.” Frumbus said, looking up at the bright purple light filling the sky. “We’re so proud of you, Limbus. Don’t go off on any adventures without us.”

“Da-” Ringus started. Limbus held his breath like a young adult Goorulian about to be asked to the centennial Shubb Dance as his son’s first word was being said. Until, “-PVVVFT”

“Gassy boy!” he gave another whack and was on his way stomping through the tarry streets.

The shipyard had a single office where Goorulians were lined up to get their injections. He couldn’t believe everyone there had passed their tests. Not only did they have to fly a perfect line from Zorbon to Guibo, they were also required to shoot over a thousand targets flawlessly with a Beebo blaster. Even after a few hundred years of training since he was a tiny Grungo, he still ended up taking the test five times.

“This line is crazy.” Limbus said to himself, noticing purple drain from the sky.

“Right!? I ain’t waiting another year. These gumbers better keep it moving.” said the Goorulian behind Limbus.

Even though he didn’t appreciate the crude language, Limbus was happy to have some company as he waited. They shared an uncertainty as their purple star, Tcha, was gradually being shaded by their neighbor planet.

 “I can’t wait to fly.” Limbus shared.

“Same here. I’m actually on assignment from the Galactic Core. Should be fun!” he bobbed from side to side, feet planted, and dropped an antenna. “Limbus.”

“Limbus.” Both smiled, acknowledging they shared the most common name on the planet.

The line was moving rather quickly. At the front, new pilots sat back into a chair and then stepped forward to receive their ship-seed. Off to the edges of the shipyard, Limbus watched ships rise from the mucky surface of the planet. The clean, sleek, curved designs of the crafts were a strange contrast to the angular forms of the Goorulians or the sloppy formlessness of Goorulus itself.

Youg was covering the majority of the sky by the time Limbus neared the front of the line. His head swiveled back and forth between the chair and the sky. Purple was nearly covered. The planet dimmed over a few minutes before swarms of Choggins took to the air. Their luminescent carapaces provided ample light even when Tcha’s light was blocked.

“Can we hurry up here?!” the other Limbus shouted.

Limbus Grungo checked the line behind him and was unable to see the end. Suddenly, he felt fortunate to have gotten there when he did. He recalled the moments before he left, being with his family, and pulled out the cube Frumbus gave him. He stared at the image and everything else was drowned out. His lifelong dream of being a pilot now felt like a hobby, whereas his family was his truest passion.

A voice grew louder in Limbus’s mind. He was next.

“It’s done.” a rugged Goorulian stated. “Come back in a year.”

Limbus’s antennae wobbled uncontrollably. “Wait!” He looked up at the sky. Youg was indeed covering every bit of purple beaming toward the planet. “I can’t wait a year. Please!”

“You should have come earlier. Sorry, gumber.”

Being called a derogatory name reminded Limbus of the Limbus behind him. “Wait! Someone skipped me!”

“Huh?”

“There was a.. uhh gumber behind me. He stole my spot!”

“You know what… I saw that.” the chipper said. “Let’s get you an ID.”

Limbus let out a long breath of relief and sat in the injection chair.

“Limbus…” the chipper said as he pulled out the ID and loaded it into the machine.

“That’s me.”

“...Kwungo.” he finished as he slammed a cylinder up through Limbus’s mouth and into the inside of his forehead.

“No! Not Kwungo. Grungo!” Limbus panicked.

A bell rang in the shipyard and the shrugging chipper walked off. Limbus sat for some time, horrified that he had the wrong ID inside him. Would this cause issues with the ship?

Limbus looked to an edge of the yard some Choggins were spotlighting. The other Limbus was there, a ship emerging from the muck at his feet.

“We have to swap chips!”

“Can’t be done. Don’t worry, it’ll still work.”

“Really? Oh thank Beebo.”

Limbus telepathically called forth his own ship and it slowly rose from the ground, forming from the complex minerals in Goorulian mud. Once it was almost done growing, he stepped inside, excited to bring it home to his family.

“With my ID chip, I think you may have to do my assignment now.” said the real Limbus Kwungo from a window of his ship.

“You think? What’s the assignment? You said it should be fun, right?” 

“Yeah! It’s war!”

Limbus’s ship grew clear of the muddy landscape as he heard the words. And goodbye. It zipped him so far that even Youg was a speck from his window. He tried everything to free it from the pre-programming, but it had its destination locked in. Limbus took the Beebo blaster off the wall of the ship’s interior and considered ending it all. Then he gazed towards home, wondering if Frumbus and Ringus were looking back. One day, he’d return. Until then, he was Limbus Kwungo, infiltrator of the Carisite mothership for the glory of the Galactic Core.