Page 29 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

“You’re handling it about as well as a Huxarian handles a diplomatic negotiation.” A faint smile flickers across her features but doesn’t reach her eyes. “Meaning, not at all.”

I adjust the clasps of my coat, its familiar weight a small comfort against the growing unease. “K’vex will be watching. Vornak will be posturing. And Ralith will be scheming in the shadows. A display of weakness now would be...unwise.”

Zara sighs, the sound a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Unwise is an understatement, Captain. You’re practically radiating fever. One wrong step, one misplaced word, and they’ll tear you—and the Brotherhood—apart.”

She’s right. Postponing this meeting, revealing any vulnerability to those scavengers, is a risk I can’t afford. The Brotherhood is fracturing. Every lost shipment, every whisper of Eclipse infiltration, widens the cracks. I must maintain control. But there’s more at stake than just the Brotherhood. Neon’s discovery—Kira, alive and hunting her—adds another layer of complexity, another reason I can’t afford to falter. These captains need to understand the gravity of our situation. They need to see why Kyor trusted me, why I’m the one to lead them through this storm. I can’t lose control. Not now, not when so much hangs in the balance.

“I’ll manage,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “But keep sharp, Zara. Something’s not right here.”

The docking clamps release with a final hiss, and I push myself to my feet, gritting my teeth against the wave of dizziness washing over me. The Obsidian Haven, a jagged scar carved into the heart of a dead asteroid, stretches before us, its surface a patchwork of reinforced metal and exposed rock. In the dimlight of distant nebulae, the station resembles a skeletal hand reaching out to grasp the void.

As we make our way through the Haven’s winding corridors, each step feels like walking on broken glass. The obsidian walls, polished to a mirror sheen, reflect our fractured images—distorted phantoms in a labyrinth of shadows. The air, thick with the metallic tang of recycled oxygen and the ozone of failing circuits, presses against my skin, each inhale a struggle. My Kyvernian senses, usually a source of strength, now torment me, amplifying every subtle scent, every flicker of light, every echoing sound into sensory overload. The bond-sickness claws deeper, turning the recycled air into acid in my lungs, making my skin crawl.

As we approach the central chamber, the low hum of the Haven’s life support systems intensifies, a rhythmic pulse that echoes the erratic beat of my heart. I feel Zara’s gaze on me, sharp and concerned, but I force my wings to remain folded, my expression carefully neutral. The other captains can’t see my weakness. Not yet.

The chamber doors hiss open, revealing a cavernous room that seems to swallow the dim light. A massive table dominates the center, its jagged obsidian surface etched with holographic displays pulsing with data streams—trade routes glowing like arteries, shipment logs scrolling in endless columns, and scattered red markers where Brotherhood vessels have vanished without trace. My vision blurs momentarily, the holographic lights swimming before me, but I blink hard, forcing the world back into focus.

I need clarity.

Control.

The captains are already gathered, their varied forms casting long shadows in the flickering light. Vornak, the Bravorian warlord, towers near the head of the table, his obsidian scalesgleaming like polished night. K’vex, the Rhilnar tactician, stands apart, her six arms arranged in a display of studied casualness that sets my instincts on edge. Ralith, the Vulpexian, leans against a far pillar, his features masked in what I recognize as calculated indifference. Drokmar, the Croakan, sits hunched in his seat, his squat, frog-like form radiating an almost palpable aura of unease. Shen’va, the Seraphim, their expansive ice-feathered wings folded tight, watches the proceedings with an unsettlingly detached gaze. And Zyx’tal, the Muspel, paces restlessly, her lean, pale blue frame a blur of nervous energy.

As I enter, the chamber falls silent, the weight of a dozen gazes settling on me like a physical force. I feel the bond-sickness pulsing through my veins, a relentless rhythm threatening to overwhelm my control. A muscle in my jaw twitches involuntarily, and I clench my teeth, forcing it to stillness.

“You summoned us, Captain Thar’Kal.” K’vex’s voice, smooth as polished steel, slices through the tense atmosphere. Her six hands move in intricate patterns, each digit tapping out a silent rhythm against the obsidian table. “I trust the matter is...sufficiently urgent?”

The subtle emphasis on the last word, the hint of challenge in her tone, raises my hackles. “Urgent enough to interrupt your...ventures, Captain K’vex?” I counter, my voice carefully neutral, though the effort makes my throat burn.

A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or something colder—crosses her features. “Profit is a fleeting pleasure, Captain. Survival is a necessity.” One of her hands drifts toward a concealed weapon at her hip, the movement almost too casual to be noticed. Almost.

“A sentiment we all share,” Vornak rumbles, his golden eyes fixed on me with predatory intensity. He slams a scaled fist on the table, the impact reverberating through the chamber,sending fresh waves of agony radiating through my already strained wings. “So enlighten us, Captain. What threat justifies this...interruption?”

I take a measured breath, forcing my trembling wings to stillness. The simple act sends a fresh wave of fever through me, making my markings burn hotter, brighter against my skin. I feel Zara’s worried gaze on me but ignore it, focusing on the task at hand. Control. Always control.

“The Black Eclipse has infiltrated us.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. The whispers begin, a rising tide of hissed accusations and muttered denials. This time, I don’t let it build. I activate the central display, and a web of crimson lines blooms across the star chart, each line representing a lost vessel, a broken link in the Brotherhood’s chain.

“These are our missing vessels. Twelve in the past month alone. Each one carrying critical supplies—medical equipment, food synthesizers, and most importantly, luminore.” My voice cracks slightly, the dryness making it difficult to speak, but I push through the discomfort.

“Losses are inevitable in our line of work,” Ralith drawls from the shadows, his vulpexian features still carefully neutral, but his tail twitches nervously, betraying his unease. “This proves nothing except the Eclipse’s continued...enthusiasm for disrupting our operations. Just like the STI.”

“Look closer, Captain Ralith.” I enhance the display, highlighting specific routes, zooming in on the points where each vessel vanished. The holographic lights shimmer, and I fight back a wave of dizziness, my grip tightening on the edge of the table. “These weren’t random attacks. Each vessel was hit in a designated safe zone, using classified routes that change weekly. Routes that only Brotherhood captains have access to.”

The implications land like a physical blow. Ralith pushes off from the pillar, his casual stance replaced by sudden, predatory alertness. “You’re suggesting one of us is feeding them information.”

“I’m stating a fact,” I correct, my voice hardening despite the tremor that runs through me. “We have a leak. And until we find it, every ship we send out is at risk. Every crew member’s life hangs in the balance.”

“And what, pray tell, do you propose we do, Captain?” K’vex’s voice, smooth as ever, carries an undercurrent of steel. “Accuse each other blindly? Turn on our own while the Eclipse watches and waits, picking through the scraps of our fractured alliance?”

“We adapt,” I say, my wings shifting restlessly despite my efforts to keep them still. “We evolve. We become something stronger, something more resilient.” I trigger another display, this one showing encrypted communication channels pulsing with complex algorithms. “All sensitive information will be transmitted using quantum-locked frequencies. Face-to-face reporting only for critical updates. And every captain here will submit their ship’s logs for the past three cycles—no exceptions.”

“You’re asking us to surrender our autonomy,” Vornak booms, his scales rippling with barely contained fury. “The Brotherhood wasn’t built on blind obedience. It was built on freedom. On trust.”

“Trust that has been betrayed,” I counter, my voice growing rougher as the bond-sickness flares again, a surge of molten fire that makes my markings burn like brands against my skin. The room seems to tilt momentarily, the lights blurring into streaks of color. I blink hard, forcing the world back into focus, but my grip on the table tightens, claws digging into the obsidian surface as I fight to maintain control.

K’vex’s azure gaze fixes on me, all six hands now perfectly still, each digit poised like a striking serpent. “You don’t lookwell, Captain. Perhaps we should postpone this discussion until you’ve...recovered.” Her words, laced with feigned concern, are a thinly veiled challenge.

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