Hamster Kin

A Starshatter story

Apr 15, 2025

My fellow Terrans, it is Terran-Tuesday and since you loved this little fuzzy fella so much, I am giving you another chapter :D

Enjoy!

Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Hamster incarnate

Once shackled with perpetual gloom, battered by chill rain, the city streets were shadowless. Each led by a handful of former soldiers, bands of resistance fighters, their uniforms raggedy clothing, somehow held their ground. Armed with the looted beamguns of gangsters and now dead OBP coppers, tens of thousands of rage-filled civilians fought under tattered banners. Once simple grayish rags, these had spray-painted with blue the letter (M) in Fringe Speak. A circle around it, this signified the people’s willing to be free or die trying.

Some claimed weird-looking, but friendly men and women of alien kin, it was them who told people of this symbol. That it essentially meant a restoration of their proper old civilian rule, a minimalist government, a Minarchy as Terrans called it. Wondrous a fact that as soon as all cyber-enhanced goons, of Corpo and gangster persuasion became utterly impotent, these friendly aliens readily joined the locals, beam arms and vibroblades in hand.

Who were they and where did they even come from?!

Broken, oppressed peoples asked not stupid questions when they were liberated.

Relentless, the newcomers fought with such determination that the native people of this planet soon became of one spirit with them. Death, these out-worlders chanted, it was much better than dying a little every day, for the rest of your forever-a-slave life! There were some among the old who listened with suspicious minds, yet they too became swayed when these newcomers charged straight into enemy fire, happy smiles upon their faces.

Proudly calling themselves wholesome revolutionaries, the eager alien volunteers uplifted all spirits broken by decades of soul-shackling servitude, as they led by example. The gruff soldiers who commanded and organized the local resistance, they quickly learned to rely on these out-worlders. For their grit and willingness to fight, oftentimes with sacrificial determination, had no bounds. Yet the oldsters remembered their first bloody rebellion against the Corpos and deep in their hearts, they dreaded the arrival of enemy starships.

Their only hope now was to quickly free their planet, so the OBP’s top bosses would have no desire to waste anymore of their precious assets reconquering it.

Across the now sunny cityscape of Boklik city, hundreds of barricades blocked streets; buildings were turned into improvised bunkers, people spraying beams, and lobbing handmade grenades at gangsters and Corpo soldiers out of their windows and doors. Machines, most of these light tanks or armored infantry vehicles, had trouble navigating yet when possible, their crews would punch straight trough the ad-hoc barricades.

Soon, they would find their balls and, in true Corpo fashion, use light artillery to pummel the revolutionaries out of existence. Another danger, in the shape of a mecha squad, was deployed via an armored transport shuttle, which nearly captured the city stardocks. Laying a devastating covering fire with its few, but powerful beam turrets, the craft opened its cargo doors, deploying a four power armor class mecha troop. These would immediately and almost without trouble stomped or shot dead a bunch of revolutionaries.

To the beleaguered defenders, it appeared that everything was over since their light beamguns were unable to even scratch armored mecha. Lost at what to do, following a doomed attack with burning cocktails and handmade grenades, they were nearly routed until reinforcements came. Looking almost like a mythical space warrior, what was clearly a mech of local design, old, yet modernized and armed, flew on its own engine power. Just in the nick of time, this machine arrived and, with a devastating barrage from its heavy machine gun, ripped the Corpo shuttle to pieces.

Brought to heel, the mecha squad nevertheless threw everything they had at this single power armor. Inexperienced as he was, its pilot was getting constant advice by holo-link. His mecha was also fitted with nigh wondrously powerful systems, its thick energy shielding and ample power supply giving it a huge edge in the ensuing fight. For half an hour did the lone mecha fighter navigate the docks, scrapping the Corpo mechs one after the other.

He did indeed often miss and his enemies, having more experience, landed a number of accurate hits on him. Yet whenever their beams and missiles damaged his shield, he would quickly retreat and use whatever free power he had to regenerate it. True that they were able to inflict damage, ripping through part of his armor-plating, however the pilot knew the docks like the back of his hand. He aptly used this knowledge to secure either cover from enemy fire or surprise and outmaneuver them, finally landing crippling hits of his own.

Plasma fires burning all over, craters from detonating enemy munitions ripped into landing pads or support buildings, nevertheless, following that half-hour, the Corpo mecha squad was no more. Overheating and damaged, the lone mecha fighter had to halt since he’d used most of his precious gyro-jet ammunition. The stardocks were securely under the revolutionaries’ control and, once more, new ships could land there.

Hastily modified for war civilian shuttles appeared overhead. Their engines booming and shielding screeching through the atmo, these vessels inelegantly performed a near suicidal atmospheric hyper exit. Though, what was the local people’s surprise when out of their cargo holds emerged more of their new, offworlder friends. Riding on armed trucks, cars, and grav-bikes, literally everything they could’ve gotten their hands on some other planet, these wholesome terrorists gave a tiny hamster a lift.

He had, until now, been helping the lone mecha pilot with advice and with this pickle solved, desired to reinforce those who fought across the city. The hamster left exhilarated young Yuik to celebrate his first battle triumph and, snickering with joy, rode the sidecar of a grav-bike back to the heart of Boklik city.

* * *

“Indeed,” – Bloop squeaked over the screeching, pushed beyond its safety limits grav-engine – “I do know our most glorious ace Awesome! Once, I met him while vacationing on Earth and he gave me a holo-graph, see?!”

The little hamster had rummaged inside his towering backpack, producing a copy of the aforementioned holo-graph. It was the ace pilot Awesome himself, his image captured inside the cockpit of IMS Insanity, that amazing red starfighter of his. The plaque Bloop shared was small, the size of a coin, yet it projected a holo-slide of supreme quality. There, the wholesome revolutionaries saw Awesome’s own handwriting, which read:

“From Awesome to Bloop, with many, many cozy wishes for beyond wholesome touristing! Baddie unaliving included in the wish package.”

When the grav-bike reached one of the most hard pressed barricades and little Bloop was dropped of, his driver attempted to give back that holo-graph, yet the hamster refused:

“You keep it, wholesomely revolutioning boyo. May the grin of Awesome bring you luck and your counting of deadened baddies be long!”

Floating away and straight into the firefight, Bloop waved them goodbye, a smallish but nasty-looking shoulder held gun in hand. The sooner they drove away, directed by their comms elsewhere, the hamster found his first target and fired at it.

Many expected a hiss, but there was a mighty, overly loud peeew instead.

This weapon produced a thick, almost too big for its size dark-blue laser beam. Without much trouble said laser bore a nice big hole straight through the Corpo-made armor-plating, as if this one was made not of metal, but butter. Cooking alive, the screaming crew scattered trying to leave their wrecked machine and were promptly mowed down by the crowd of wounded ex-civilians.

“They have a main battle tank... wheeze... it is... cough... coming here!” – shouting informed Bloop one of the old veterans, who’d lost an arm and half his face, trying to grenade another enemy vehicle earlier.

“Good.” – replied Bloop, shoving one of his medisprays in the veteran’s hand – “I am going to do a kabloey while you rest here, good sir Veteran.”

“They have soldiers... spit... reinforcements.” – as he injected himself the oldster hissed through his clenched teeth, fighting the regeneration pains.

“Soldiers shmoldiers!” – giggled Bloop, one little thumb pointing at the swiftly arriving gaggle of alien vehicles – “We haff fighters too.”

Snickering, the hamster patted his shoulder held laser, whispered something in its firing mechanism, and before floating across the barricade, said:

“The difference is—our boyos haff spirit.”

His mouth agape, the old veteran watched how a bunch of armed partisans jumped out of their vehicles, loaded his wounded and assumed their positions. They also offloaded some supplies, mostly grenade bundles, IEDs, and light beam repeaters. Vehicles furiously roared away and there were tiny new dots glowing out of hyperspace above the not so distant stardocks. Those, the old vet was assured via comms, were carrying hundreds and hundreds of new partisans.

Nodding approvingly, the old soldier observed his reinforcements planting bombs, and reinforcing the barricade by pushing and dragging the slagged enemy AFV. With pure disbelief, he listened as these so called wholesome revolutionaries began to sing revolutionary songs, faces alit and voices carrying such fervor, that even his spirit became emboldened.

Crazed they all looked, yet in the veteran’s mind it was exactly the balminess his countrymen needed right now. Just like the mad chuckling diminutive Terran, whose smallish anti-tank laser gun gave out yet another loud peeew in the distance, followed by an explosion. He spat a bloody spittle and reached for his beamgun—he’d be damned if that hamster had all the fun!

* * *

Bloop floated behind the barricade, a roaring hellfire of particle-beams hissing all around. With a deft pitter-patter, he danced around, aiming his anti-tank laser.

“PEEEW!” – said the goodun gun, and its overpowered beam was immediately followed by a choir of desperate screams.

The Corpos who had so eagerly chased after little Bloop, oh, they were burning!

“Ihihihiiii!”

Holes dotted his traveler’s cloak, a trusty guardian against all rain now fallen. Bloop’s straw hat, it too was ruined and he had to remove it, lest his fuzzy snout suffer burns. At least his backpack was mostly undamaged, having been made with ample beam and armor protection in mind. The hamster looked through his scan-goggles, noting a whole battalion worth of Corpo infantrymen crawling towards this barricade. Supported by not one, but two armored fighting vehicles led by another tank, the baddies assumed victory would be theirs.

Particle-beams of heavier caliber began hissing all around. Some hit the barricade, one blasted the hulk of their own slagged machine to molten bits, others instantly turned a couple of unfortunate men and women to dust. Yet the casualties were token few since the entire position was cleverly reinforced and people spaced for their protection. One of the revolutionaries gave Bloop a wave as she screamed:

“Wholesome Leader asks if yous needs the closest air supports evaar!”

“Ooooh! Yesh, yesh, we definitely needs it and as closest as possible!” – squeaked the hamster in turn and, as soon as the woman shouted a bunch of coordinates in her comms, asked her – “But huwhats is it?”

She looked at him as if he asked where the sun rose every morning and pointed up with a wink. With a supersonic roar there came barreling down at the Corpos one civilian shuttle. Stripped from everything, including her cockpit, point defense, the thing was strapped with layers upon layers of Jury-rigged armor. When it slammed into the enemy lines and the detonation changed Bloop’s furstyle, he came to the cozy realization that said shuttle’s cargo hold was stuffed full of all things kablooey.

Witnessing its armored component and half the enemy battalion turned into molten scrap and gory mist, the hamster hopped on his feet. Reeling from the devastating shell shock, many vomiting their guts and suffering internal bleeding, what was left of the Corpo troopers had been transformed from eager attackers into staggered, disorganized gaggle.

Bloop checked his PDA first since there was a link sent by a certain outworlder. Though his smile did not waver, he unleashed a loud sigh when he said:

“Welp... like all good things, my vacationing is over. Hope the good sir Landlord was satisfied by my touristy presence!”

Leveling the laser gun and checking with the scan-data from his goggles, Bloop motioned at local partisans and alien revolutionaries – “For wholesome freedom and cozy future I squeak! Attack, attack the baddies mighty, so deaden them rightly!”

With a roaring battle squeak, he unleashed another overpowered laser beam and forward he floated, firing again and again, as the mass of screaming semi-squeaks revolutionaries eagerly followed. They did not notice when Bloop was exfiltrated by a cloaked Terran dropship, for the only thing their eyes could see was the routed enemy.

Across once gloomy now sunny Bolklik city, many thousands of locals and their offworlder allies were engaged in wiping out groups of encircled Corpo soldiers. There, among the toughest and strongest band of hearty revolution spreading men and women, his black plastic coat gently moving on itself, the mysterious and enigmatic Wholesome Leader deadened scores of baddies. While his assault rifle roared one barrage of gyro-jet projectiles after another, in stark difference from his fellow revolutionaries, his squeaks were absolutely hamster perfect...

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