14. Tentative Alliance
14
Tentative Alliance
I grabbed 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 felt numb. "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'."
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?"
I heard Grixxa make a sound of approval behind me. From our limited interaction, I got the sense she'd been pushing for more legitimate ventures.
"And what guarantee do I have that you won't try to escape at the first opportunity?" Zharrox asked, though something in his tone told me he already knew my answer.
"None," I admitted honestly. "But where would I go? I'm lost in space, surrounded by technology and species I barely understand. Right now, you're my best chance at finding my people - or at least finding out what happened to them." I paused, then added softly, "And I think you're my best chance at proving that different species can work together instead of exploiting each other."
"You're either very clever or very foolish," he said, echoing his earlier statement.
"Why not both?" I replied with a small smile. "The best scientists usually are."
I saw him fighting back what I thought might be an answering smile. Finally, Zharrox's ridges settled into a steady purple glow. "Two conditions," he said gruffly.
"I'm listening," I replied, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.
"First, you'll work with Daz in the medical bay. If you're really a xenobiologist, prove it. Show us what you know." His eyes fixed on me intently. "Second, you don't leave your quarters without an escort. This isn't negotiable."
I considered his terms. They were reasonable, all things considered. "I have a condition of my own," I countered.
His ridges flashed with surprise, but he nodded. I met his gaze steadily. "I want access to your ship's data about the anomaly where you found me. Any readings, scans, observations - everything."
Zharrox's tentacles writhed as he considered this. Finally, he nodded. "Agreed. But Grixxa supervises your access."
I glanced at his first mate, who gave me what I hoped was an encouraging look. "Deal," I said, holding out my hand before remembering they might not understand the gesture.
To my surprise, Zharrox reached out and wrapped one of his tentacles gently around my offered hand, clearly unsure of the gesture meant. The touch sent an unexpected shiver of desire down my spine that shot straight to my core. I barely bit back a groan.
"Deal," he echoed, his ridges pulsing with colors I hadn't seen before. I hoped I hadn't just bitten off much more alien than I could chew.