Page 19 of My Alien Pirate

His ridges flashed brilliant red, and for a moment I thought he might strike me. Instead, he turned away, his tentacles writhing. "You understand nothing," he said, his voice rough.

"Then explain it to me," I challenged. "Help me understand how someone capable of such gentleness—" I gestured to where he'd steadied me earlier with his tentacles, "—can also be capable of such cruelty."

He whirled back to face me, and I saw something flash in those alien eyes—pain? Regret? "Life isn't simple out here," he growled. "Sometimes we do what we must to survive."

"And that justifies slavery?"

"Enough!" he roared, his tentacles lashing the air. "You do not get to judge me or my actions."

I flinched at his outburst but held my ground. "No," I said quietly. "I'm a scientist. Observation and judgment are what I do. And right now, I'm observing someone who's trying very hard to convince themselves they're the villain they pretend to be."

His ridges pulsed rapidly, colors shifting so fast I could barely track them. Beside me, Grixxa made a sound that might have been admiration or alarm—I couldn't tell which.

"You're very brave, little zixxit," Zharrox said finally, his voice deceptively calm. "Or very foolish. Do you have any idea what I could do to you?"

"Yes," I replied simply. "You could hurt me. Kill me. Sell me. But you won't do any of those things right now, will you?" I took another step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his scaled body. "Because if you were going to, you wouldn't have bothered with the translator. You wouldn't be here, trying to explain yourself."

"I'm not—" he started, but his voice trailed off as I reached out and touched his arm, just as I had in the med bay.

"Help me find my people," I said softly. "Prove me right about you."

He stared at my hand on his arm, his ridges pulsing slowly with colors I hadn't seen before. The silence stretched between us, heavy with possibility.

Finally, he looked up, meeting my eyes. "You are either the bravest or most reckless being I've ever encountered," he said, his voice rough.

"I'm a scientist," I repeated. "We're naturally curious. Sometimes fatally so."

A sound escaped him that the translator identified as a laugh, though it sounded more like a growl to my ears. "And if I refuse? If I continue on my course to Novum?"

"Then I'll know I was wrong about you," I said simply. "And you'll spend the rest of your life wondering if you were wrong about yourself."

His ridges flashed rapidly, and he turned to Grixxa. "What do you think of our guest's proposition?"

Grixxa's crystalline eyes sparkled. "I think she's either mad or brilliant, Captain. Possibly both." She paused, then added, "But she's not wrong about you."

Zharrox's tentacles writhed in what I was beginning to recognize as agitation. He paced the small room, his scales shifting through various shades of iridescence.

"Finding survivors would be dangerous," he said finally. "The anomaly is unstable. And there's no guarantee we'd find anything."

"But we might," I pressed. "And isn't that worth trying?"

His tentacles writhed as he considered my words. He loomed over me and the logical part of my mind screamed that this was madness - they were alien pirates, not rescuers. But another part...

"The crew won't like this," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "They were expecting a big payday."

"Then let me earn my keep," I responded quickly. "I'm a scientist - a xenobiologist. I study alien life forms. I could help your medical officer, document species you encounter, maybe even help improve your technology with what I know about human science."

I watched as his ridges pulsed with what I was beginning to recognize as interest, though he tried to hide it.

And what makes you think your scientific knowledge would be valuable to us?" he challenged, his multi-faceted eyes fixed on me intently. "Your species seems... primitive compared to ours."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Primitive? Maybe. But different doesn't always mean inferior. We might have approached problems from angles your people never considered. And besides," I added with a small smile, "aren't you even a little curious about how humans managed to develop FTL technology without proper translators or neural interfaces?"

His ridges flashed with surprise before he could control them. I felt a small surge of satisfaction - I'd noticed their neural tech, and my observation had clearly caught him off guard.

"The crew were promised profit," he reminded me, though I could see his resolve weakening.

"Then let me help you find something valuable," I countered quickly. "Not people," I added, seeing his expression darken. "But surely there must be legitimate trading opportunities out here? Legal cargo that could turn a profit without destroying lives?"

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