Elvis left the warehouse and began making his way around the perimeter of the mining site. He needed to ensure that the True Havokium soldiers had placed the explosives and were ready for detonation. After walking a few hundred yards, he heard some commotion near another warehouse. Curious, he entered the warehouse to see a group of 5 or 6 True Havokium soldiers laughing and lunging toward something. Snarls and growls came from in front of them, but Elvis couldn’t see what manner of beast was making the sounds.

  Approaching from the rear, Elvis pushed through the soldiers to see a mass of dead bodies piled on the warehouse floor. These were not Rerek bodies, though; no, these were humans. Elivs grunted and fell to one knee, pressing his hand to his temple as pain and images flashed through his head. He couldn’t make sense of these images, which flashed too fast and made no sense. He shook his head as one of the True Havokium approached.

  “BD-001 are you combat effective? Do you require medical aid?”

  Elvis grunted and, standing, pushed the soldier away. “I am fine, and if I required aid, your medics would be useless. What is going on in here? You were all meant to be placing explosives and preparing for exfil.”

  “This was a holding area for human cargo. The Rerek slave houses must use this asteroid as a staging area for transport.” The soldier smiled coldly. “Never killed a human before. These lesser species don’t deserve the plasma rounds, but it gave the boys and me a laugh to watch them die.”

  “What is the beast?” Elvis asked.

  “The humans call it a dog. Someone probably requested one. Apparently, newly reaped planets are an opportunity for collectors to purchase new and curious species. There were more with the humans, but we eliminated them all except this one. It is protecting two human bodies.”

  Elvis looked at the beast curiously, a strange feeling welling up inside him. This beast had no chance to win, no chance to survive, yet it protected two dead humans. This loyalty deserved recognition; this beast didn’t deserve to be struck down today.

  “I will take this dog,” Elvis grumbled.

  “What did you say?” The True Havokium soldier asked.

  “I said, I will take this dog. Is there a problem with that?” Elvis replied coldly.

  “Tell the droid to finish his job. We aren’t done playing with this thing,” another soldier yelled as he kicked out at the dog.

  Elvis was a blur of fire and heat, and he flashed in front of the soldier, swinging his axe and removing the still extended leg. Before the soldier could fall, Elvis lunged forward, tackling the soldier to the ground. Grabbing the True Havokium’s arms at the wrist, Elvis let loose a rage-filled scream and ripped the arms from the soldier’s body before slamming the limbs together on the soldier’s head, popping it like an overripe melon.

  Elvis dropped the bloody arms and stood before bending over to pick up his axe. “Would anyone else like to explain what I should be doing?”

  The remaining soldiers ran from the warehouse without a word as Elvis turned to face the dog that was now staring directly at him, crouched low to the ground, teeth bared.

  “I do not wish to harm you, dog. I wish to help you.” Elvis slowly walked toward the dog and knelt, one hand outstretched. Elvis looked at the animal, examining it. Focusing, he took a picture of the dog with his interface and ran it through the galactic net, querying a search AI for more details about the animal. Information on the animal began to flood his interface.

  Species – Canis Lupus Familiaris, commonly known on Earth as the domestic dog.

  Breed – American Boxer

  Temperament – Intelligent, fierce, and strong.

  Description – Boxers are a bright, energetic, and playful breed. They have earned a slight reputation for being headstrong. Aggressive when necessary, Boxers tend to be fiercely loyal companions.

  Elvis smiled at the description. This animal was much like him. Headstrong, loyal, and known to be aggressive if necessary. Elvis thought the animal was beautiful. A silky black coat, with a white patch on its chest and white socks on its front right and back left paws. He found its snout particularly interesting: short and stubby, yet it held what Elvis was sure were powerful jaws. He reached slowly toward the animal as it looked from side to side, nervously backing closer to the humans it was protecting, its chest lowered to the ground.

  “I will not harm you, dog. You cannot stay in this place. Come with me, I will own you now.” Elvis spoke calmly, trying to convey a sense of safety to the animal. The dog relaxed somewhat and whined, still looking around nervously. Elvis looked back at the body of the dead True Havokium soldier and noticed a ration pack on his belt. It was basic field rations, consisting of protein and carbohydrates. Elvis didn’t need to eat them, but had tasted them and confirmed they were pleasant. He wasn’t sure if they would be compatible with the dog’s gut biome, but decided it was worth a try, slowly shuffling back and grabbing one of the ration packs. Slowly walking back to the dog and crouching, Elvis opened the ration pack and pulled the bar from the wrapper.

  “Eat, eat,” Elvis held the ration bar toward the dog. The dog relaxed again and lay his belly flat to the ground, sniffing the air as the temptation of the ration bar grew closer.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Eat, dog. I will give you more food. Eat,” Elvis tossed a piece of the ration bar on the ground near the dog. The dog scooted forward and greedily snatched up the food before looking back at Elvis as he began salivating uncontrollably.

  unexpectedly, Elvis chuckled. “You are disgusting. I like it!” Elvis reached his hand forward again, and the dog stood slowly and stepped forward to the reward of more food. After greedily snatching the ration bar and making short work of it, the dog sat and stared at Elvis before beginning to paw at the ground and huff repeatedly.

  “I will get more when we return to the ship. You must come with me.” Elvis reached out and stroked the dog’s head slowly. The dog leaned in for a moment before stepping closer to Elvis to allow him to pet him better.

  “You will need a name. Everyone deserves a name. I am BD-001. I did not choose this name; it was given to me. I do not like this name; I shall give you a better name than I was given.”

  While Elvis didn’t have much downtime, he did manage to pull feeds from the galactic net from time to time. He stumbled across some Earth media a few weeks ago. These files were called movies on Earth. Apparently, they were fictional stories created for entertainment. Since finding these movies, Elvis had discovered a particular genre that he really enjoyed. Action movies had everything Elvis loved: heroes, action, fighting, and killing.

  “You are brave. You protect those you care about. It is important to have that. I do not have anyone I care about, but now I will have you, and you will have me.” Elvis stroked the dog again as it looked up at him and leaned into his petting once again. “You will be named, Chuck. Yes, that is fitting! Chuck Norris.”

  Elvis stood and turned to head back to his drop ship before noticing that Chuck wasn’t following. “You must come, Chuck. We will leave this place.”

  Chuck turned and looked back at the two humans, a man and a woman, and whined. Elvis walked up and knelt beside the dog. “They are gone, Chuck. I cannot say that I would not have taken their lives.” Elvis felt an overwhelming feeling of shame at the thought. “I would have done as ordered. I am not yet strong enough to do otherwise. I can tell you that I will keep you safe, though. Now, we must go.”

  This time, as Elvis turned to leave, Chuck followed, sparing only one last glance for his former family.

  “I will be your family now, Chuck, and you will be mine.”

  Elvis entered his drop ship to several questioning stares. A sergeant approached and looked down at Chuck.

  “What is the meaning of this, BD-001?”

  Elvis didn’t make eye contact, simply walking to his seat and motioning Chuck into the seat next to him.

  “BD-001, you will answer my question!” The sergeant demanded.

  “This is Chuck. He is my dog.” Elvis replied, irritation in his voice.

  “Nothing in our mission briefing mentioned taking livestock of any species. Leave the beast.”

  Elvis reached behind his back and pulled his axe slowly as the plasma edges began to glow. He looked up at the sergeant as orange miasma began drifting from his eyes. “Is this a hill you are willing to die on, sergeant? I only killed 3 Rerek soldiers today, and my blade still hungers.” Elvis stood and pressed his massive chest into the sergeant’s. “Would you like to be its next meal?”

  The sergeant gulped and pulled at his collar nervously as several other soldiers looked on. “I will allow it. Be sure you log the beast once we return to the ship.”

  Elvis sat back down and patted Chuck on the head as he sat glaring at a true Havokium soldier from the warehouse, growling menacingly.

  “Good boy, Chuck. Good boy.” Elvis looked at the soldier who was squirming uncomfortably. “You require a head to form words. If you would like to form more words in the future, I suggest you fight the urge to form them now.”

  The soldier gulped and turned his gaze to the deck of the transport ship, smartly choosing to remain silent. After lifting off and seeing the resulting detonation of the explosives that had been placed throughout the mining facility, the remainder of the return flight was uneventful. Upon arriving back at the Emerging Sun, Elvis disembarked from the transport ship with Chuck in tow. Choosing to ignore the sergeant’s order to catalogue the animal, Elvis set off for his personal quarters. Before he could leave the cargo bay, Karis entered to the salutes and cowering of his crew.

  “BD-001, I’ve been told that you attacked and dismembered one of my troops. Explain why I shouldn’t have you jettisoned from an airlock at once!” Karis Growled.

  Elvis stopped, refusing to even turn and face Karis, “You can do as you please, Commander. Though, since I do not require oxygen, the void of space would have little impact on my long-term functionality.”

  “You beast! You dare speak to your commanding officer with such,” Karis’s face twisted with disgusted disdain, “Such utter disrespect? I will have your respect, droid!”

  Elvis turned to face Karis, his eyes glowing faintly orange, the fingers on his right hand twitching, longing for the hilt of his battle axe. Chuck stepped up beside him, chest low to the ground, teeth bared, a guttural growl rumbling in his chest. Elvis looked down, perplexed. He realized that this dog was trying to protect him. It was an odd feeling. Elvis was a blunt instrument. He was accustomed to his role, and followed orders without fail. He understood that he had nobody to come to his aid, nobody to shield him, and now this animal was choosing to put its own safety on the line to come to his defense. Elvis held a hand out to calm Chuck before looking back up at Karis.

  “Commander Karis, are you familiar with the value of a good blade?” Elvis reached up and pulled his axe from his back, the plasma-edged twin heads of the axe beginning to glow brightly orange.

  “What is the meaning of this question, droid?” Karis spat.

  Elvis held the head of the axe up between himself and Karis, waves of heat emanating between them. “A good blade can be the most useful tool you can possess. Many species begin to advance at a rapid pace once they unlock the ability to craft and use blades,” Elvis eyed Karis as he spoke. “I am much like this blade, Commander Karis. You wield me, direct me, instruct me to cut down your foes.”

  “You would do well to remember who wields the blade, BD-001.” Karis hissed.

  “I am aware, Commander.” Elvis smiled maniacally as he lifted his left palm toward the glowing plasma line head of the axe. “I only wish to educate you on the dangers of a sharp blade. A blade can be used as a tool or a weapon. One can use the blade to inflict pain or death; this is true. The one thing you must remember, Commander, is that the blade has no loyalty to the wielder. One wrong move, one lapse in judgment,” Elvis sank his palm into the blade. White viscous fluid poured from the wound as he ground the blade deeper into his flesh, never breaking eye contact with Karis, “and the blade can injure the wielder, possibly even kill the wielder. It is good to respect the blade, Commander. Respect, much like this blade, is two-sided.”

  “Return to your quarters and prepare for our next strike, droid.” Karis eyed Chuck with contempt. “Keep that beast out of my way if you want it to keep its head.” Karis turned and stormed out of the cargo bay.

  Elvis returned his battle axe to his back and reached down to pat Chuck on the head. “Good boy, Chuck. You will be my best friend, and I will protect you. I give you my word.”