The Form for Saving the Galaxy

What do you do when a hostile alien armada demands your surrender? You ask if they filed the proper requisition forms.

Arthur is a logistics coordinator. He doesn't shoot laser blasters, he doesn't lead heroic boarding parties, and he certainly doesn't negotiate with hostile extraterrestrials. His greatest daily victory is ensuring the flagship doesn't run out of synthetic toilet paper.

But when the galaxy's elite combat crew is incapacitated by a severe case of improperly stored exotic shrimp, the ship's AI defaults command to the highest-ranking officer left awake. Which happens to be Arthur.

The timing couldn't be worse. A ruthless, hyper-efficient alien hive-mind has just arrived, and they aren't looking for a space battle—they want to "optimize" humanity through a hostile corporate takeover.

Arthur's only remaining crew? An IT wizard surviving on panic and synthetic caffeine, an accountant obsessed with the financial ROI of dying, an overly enthusiastic HR rep, a deeply concerned psychologist, and a heavily armed executive chef.

They can't outgun the aliens. They can't outrun them. But what this crew of misfits lacks in tactical combat experience, they more than make up for in their ability to weaponize red tape. To save the galaxy, they will drown the enemy in compliance violations, exploit procedural loopholes, and unleash the most terrifying force in the universe: mandatory administrative audits.

If they fail, humanity gets liquidated. If they succeed... Arthur is definitely going to have to fill out a report about it.

Perfect for fans of absurd workplace satire, underdog space operas, and anyone who has ever survived a meeting that could have been an email.