#finishthestory Week 40: Bananafish: Engaged!

This week’s #finishthestory prompt is brought of you by the enigmatic and wonderfully loquacious @theironfelix. Thank you for the compelling prompt, good sir! I loved the sci-fit twist to it!

Here's my contribution. I hope you all enjoy!

[Image Source]

Hunt Down the Bananafish by @theironfelix

Boots clamor with the machinery humming. Iron walkways, under stomping feet, ache despite losing the senses a while ago. Grunts echo and bounce off the marble-walls and iron-ceiling. The grunting marchers ache for purpose, as they can stand no more of their shoulders’ acidity caused by hauling a crate so long.

"Hush, we near the Colonel-"

"Bob, we’ve been on the USSS Milky Way for how long? It’s pronounced ker-nel - not co-lo-nol."

"Keep your peace, Jerry. Anyways."

Raised arms, Bob’s hands knocked three knocks, every knock so polite yet firm. His legs, being precautious, retreated; doors squeaking due to leaving their closed state, the Colonel with a pipe and cocked hat steps out. Steadying the shades, the pipe soon found itself hugging the floor.

"Master-Sergeant Bob, how’d you... oh He would be very proud, yet let’s not yammer on about that."

"Indeed, and we tracked the coordinates-"

"Coordinates! I’ll patch you in sonny. Please yank that box in now. Tell me, how’d you got this potassium-skin?"

"I’ll take this one Bob, go input the coordinates. Colonel, the details matter not, but our white gloves are still white. Anyways, coordinates should be in now. Say, when does that bounty expire?"

"I still cannot believe it, we’ll be rich! We’ll have the Bananafish finally in our hands and the bounty just renewed and quadrupled its payout!"

Frothing came racing out and spreading about the Colonel’s mouth, Master-Sergeant Bob’s and Jerry’s eyes picked up on the bubble-infection. Bob’s hands signaled to Jerry if now was the time to act, but that time to act was inappropriate as Jerry’s hands signed. Bob’s ears, hearing the awkwardness, compelled the voice-box to utter.

"Would you like to do the honours of telling the other ships?"

"Ah, sorry. Anyways, the coordinates are already sent - now just an announcement... Ahem... Attention crew, this is the Colonel speaking. Right now coordinates have been uploaded and you may have a question. My answer: we found the Bananafish and we’re going to hunt! I repeat, we’re hunting down the Bananafish... I muted my mic, but do you hear that Master-Sergeant?"

"Ecstasy."

"And a hero, for that’s what you and your platoon are. When we’re back, I’ll make sure you get your due honours."

Bob’s and Jerry’s eyes deadlock together on the other, lips arching high and their minds ridding of any misdeeds. Turning their heads to the ship’s front view, the image of starry seas became interrupted as the view warps to a tunnel of passing light spires that raced with the ship. However, the moment was fleeting and the armada of spacecraft found themselves floating above the Bananafish’s home.

"Master-Sergeant’s Platoon, come ‘ere. You’ll be my personal convoy ‘til the mission is over. So sit in your own Orbital Drop Pods and await blastoff."

Sat they were, their armour covered with more weapons than plating and a soldiery hoorah echoing. The clock ticked, yet they were ejected soon and all saw the Nature below.

The hunt has begun.

Bananafish: Engaged!
by @Michaias

The USSS Milky Way groaned in relief as its Orbital Drop Pods ejected. The ship swayed.

“Just a little longer, old girl,” the Colonel muttered as the platoon rocketed to the planet below.

The injured and famished Bananafish had lodged itself in a potassium-rich mire to feed. A desperate, but necessary, maneuver.

Orbital Drop Pods crushed the terrain with violent force. Bodies jolted.

“Oorah!” Jerry shouted. He accidentally bit his tongue and clammed up.

Pod doors flew off, flipping through the air. Men rushed the field of battle, beelining for the stranded Bananafish.

Bob unclipped one of his seven assault rifles. With his armor’s AI, he aimed at the Bananafish’s hull. He knew what to expect, but a wild, untethered Bananafish was a strange sight, nonetheless. Its leathery yellow skin seemed designed to repel any assault. Bob decided to test its limits and opened fire. Jerry and the other men produced their weapons, activated AI aim assistance, and fired.

The Bananafish, however, wasn’t going down without a fight. Mustering its remaining energy, it activated its primary weaponry. A turret appeared from its aft, pivoted, and fired one hull-breaching shot. Jerry’s head exploded like a ripe cantaloupe hitting the ground.

Bob dropped his now-empty assault rifle, grabbed two more, and unloaded both magazines. The turret was disabled, but not before striking down another soldier. A second turret appeared. Bob barely dodged its blast in time, thanks more to luck than skill. The soldier behind him was not so lucky.

Another man disabled this second turret. Bob drew a plasma revolver and combat knife and leaped toward his prey. He jammed the knife into that leathery skin and climbed atop the Bananafish. He dug his blade in. Another turret appeared, and Bob blasted it into oblivion, then resumed cutting. He would not be denied this bounty.

After losing a few more turrets, and as Bob’s knife dug deeper into its yellow hull, the Bananafish realized it needed a change in tactics. It suctioned more potassium from the muck and sent one loud, cacophonous cry for help into the heavens.

The Colonel, still aboard the USSS Milky Way, known as the Kiwifish before its tethering, collapsed as his once-loyal ship rebelled.

“Potassium Godsdamned fruitfish!” the Colonel screamed.

The Kiwifish shucked off its AI bindings, spun, and plunged toward the planet, intending to crashland next to its Bananafish companion. Upon entering the atmosphere, the Kiwifish’s retrofitted weaponry burned and broke off its hull. One flaming gun collided with and dragged a soldier to the bottom of the mire.

With a massive splash, the Kiwifish joined its companion and fed on the potassium riches. Moments later, the fruitfish jointly sent a new signal.

The soldiers’ AIs were all hijacked. Men grasped their heads. Some resisted and were summarily shot by infected comrades. The battle was over in minutes.

Succumbing to the AI overwriting, the Colonel spoke the final words formed of his own volition: “We are all Bananafish now…”