Page 18 of My Alien Pirate

Her face did something complicated then, another mix of emotions I couldn't quite interpret with her lack of bioluminescent coloring. "None?" she whispered. "But there were over two thousand people on the Phoenix. They can't all be..."

Two thousand? The number staggered me. I'd assumed her ship was a small research vessel, not a transport carrying thousands. "What was your mission?" I found myself asking.

She sank back into the chair, which adjusted to cradle her small form. "We were colonists," she said softly. "The first wave of settlers headed for a new world. New Earth, we called it."

Her eyes grew distant. "Something went wrong during the FTL jump. There was a massive energy surge, alarms everywhere... and then I woke up in that burning wreckage where you found me," she finished, her voice thick with emotion. "Two thousand people... families, children..."

She looked up at me suddenly, her eyes bright with moisture. "Could they have survived somehow? Maybe they ended up somewhere else when the jump went wrong?"

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to her obvious distress. My species didn't produce tears, but I recognized them as a sign of strong emotion. "The anomaly we found you near... it's possible others could have been scattered across different locations." I didn't want to give her false hope, but I couldn't bring myself to completely crush her spirits either.

14

Tentative Alliance

Igrabbed onto the possibility Zharrox presented to me like a drowning woman clutching a lifeline. "Then we have to look for them! Your ship has advanced technology - surely you could detect other wreckage, other survivors?"

"We?" he repeated, his ridges flashing with what I was starting to recognize as surprise. "You speak as if we're allies."

"Aren't we?" I challenged, rising from my chair to face him. Despite his intimidating size, I refused to back down. "You saved my life. You're clearly not inherently hostile, or I'd be dead by now. And you've gone to the trouble of creating a way for us to communicate."

"That's not..." he started to protest, but I cut him off.

"What is it you want from me?" I demanded, my heart pounding but my voice steady. "Why keep me locked up if not to learn more about my species? Well, I'm offering you that knowledge freely. I'll tell you everything I know about humans,about Earth, about our technology. All I ask in return is your help in finding my people."

He stared at me, his multifaceted eyes unreadable and his tentacles writhing slowly. I could see the conflict in the way his ridges pulsed, shifting through colors I was beginning to associate with agitation. I knew he was interested in me. That little exploratory session we'd had proved that. But would it be enough to get him to search for my crew.

"It's not that simple," he growled, his tentacles moving more rapidly. "I'm not some noble rescuer, Nova. I'm a pirate."

The words hit me like a physical blow, though part of me had suspected as much from the way his crew behaved. Still, hearing him say it outright made my blood run cold.

"And I'm what? Booty?" I asked, proud that my voice remained steady despite the fear churning in my gut.

He cocked his head at the word the translator obviously couldn't decipher.

"Boo-tee?" he sounded out in question.

"Something to sell. Cargo," I explained.

"Yes!" The word seemed to pain him as much as it did me. "Well, no. You were. But now…"

"I see." I interrupted him, taking a step back, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to process this new reality. "And where exactly are you planning to sell me?"

"We were going to Novum," he answered, his ridges flashing a dark blue I somehow instinctually translated as shame. "It's a large trading post, known for its... exotic merchandise. However…"

My stomach lurched as I understood the implications. "A slave market," I translated, my voice hollow. The academic part of my brain noted how his scales darkened at my words, how his ridges pulsed with what appeared to be discomfort. But mostly, I feltnumb. "So that's why you gave me the translator. To increase my value."

His tentacles whipped through the air agitatedly. "No. Not at all. It's not... that's not..." He seemed unable to finish the thought.

"Not what?" I challenged, anger finally breaking through the numbness. "Not personal? Just business? Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?"

His eyes narrowed, pupils elongating dangerously. "You know nothing about me or my life," he growled.

"I know enough," I spat back. "I know you're willing to sell sentient beings for profit. I know you can look at someone who's lost everything—their home, their crew, their entire world—and see nothing but merchandise."

"That's not—" he started, but I was on a roll now.

"Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?" I continued, stepping closer despite Grixxa's warning hiss. "I see someone who's conflicted. Someone who's trying very hard to convince himself that what he's doing is justified. But you're not very good at it, are you? That's why you're here, trying to explain yourself to your 'cargo'."

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