Page 53 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

Neon’s quick nod and subtle smile tell me she approves, her fingers never stilling on the controls as she continues to process data. We move in perfect synchronization, each anticipating the other’s needs without words. It’s a dance we’ve been practicing since she first stepped onto my ship, now refined by an intimacy that runs soul-deep.

K’vex’s mandibles click rapidly—the only outward sign of her discomfort. “The council will want more than impressive displays and vague promises, Captain.”

Vornak’s obsidian scales catch the light as he steps forward. “Results speak louder than council debates. The Eclipse’s recent failures to intercept our shipments suggest the captain’s methods have merit.” His golden eyes narrow as he studies K’vex. “Strange that you’d question success.”

“My concern,” K’vex’s six hands move in contradicting patterns, “is for our continued survival. The Eclipse grows bolder by the day. Perhaps if we shared our defensive protocols more openly among the captains...”

Zara’s russet fur bristles as she takes her position at my right. “Interesting suggestion. Though recent data suggests information compartmentalization has actually improved our success rate.”

“Mere correlation,” K’vex replies too quickly, her compound eyes shifting between the gathered captains. “Though if you doubt my motives—”

“Then they’ll have proof of them soon enough,” I growl, baring my fangs in what might be a smile. “Starting with the Eclipse supply chain we’re about to dismantle. Unless you have objections to that as well?”

Shen’va’s white feathers ripple with interest. “I, for one, look forward to seeing how our... colleague... responds to this operation.”

K’vex’s hands finally still—a momentary pause that speaks volumes. “No objections, Captain. We await your tactical briefing.”

I exchange a subtle glance with Neon, whose slight nod confirms she’s caught the same tells I have. Her enhanced eyes track the last flickering traces of K’vex’s transmission, no doubt already analyzing the encrypted patterns for irregularities. Perfect. Let K’vex think we’re blind to her deception while she carefully positions herself to observe other captains’ reactions rather than focusing on me directly. The trap is baited—now we just need her to take it.

The bridge’s comm system chimes with an incoming priority transmission. “Captain, Officer McCoy requesting immediate audience,” Zara announces from her station.

“Put her through,” I command, noting how K’vex’s hands twitch at the interruption.

The bridge erupts in barely contained outrage as McCoy’s hologram materializes. Several captains rise from their seats, their expressions ranging from shock to fury at seeing an STI officer in a Brotherhood meeting.

“This is unprecedented,” Vornak booms, his obsidian scales rippling with agitation. “Since when do we allow STI officials into our secure channels?”

“The same officials who imprisoned Kyor?” K’vex’s hands move in sharp, aggressive patterns. “Perhaps the sickness has affected more than just your health, Captain.”

I let my wings spread wide, a display of dominance that silences the immediate protests. “The situation has changed. The Eclipse threatens more than just our operations now.” My gaze sweeps the assembled captains. “Sometimes surviving requires new alliances.”

McCoy’s hologram stands calmly in the center of the chaos, her stern features betraying nothing as she waits for the outburst to subside. Through our bond, I feel Neon’s tension spike at the precarious situation—she knows better than most how delicate this balance is.

“We can debate allegiances later,” I growl. “Right now, Officer McCoy has intelligence relevant to our immediate survival. Unless anyone objects to hearing about Eclipse movements in their own territory?”

The challenge in my tone makes several captains shift uncomfortably. Even K’vex’s hands still momentarily as she recalculates her position.

McCoy’s hologram materializes, her stern features cast in blue light as she cuts through the tension with clinical precision. Her gaze sweeps across the assembled Brotherhood captains with careful neutrality before focusing on me. “Captain Thar’Kal, we’ve detected significant Eclipse activity near the medical facilities in Vulpexia and neighboring colonies. Their patterns suggest an imminent attack.” She pauses, choosing her next words deliberately. “I know the Brotherhood typically... avoids official channels, but given the stakes, I thought you should be informed immediately.”

The subtle emphasis on “official channels” sends ripples of unease through the gathered captains. McCoy’s presence here—a high-ranking Planetary Police officer addressing Brotherhoodleadership directly—speaks volumes about the severity of the situation.

I stand behind Neon at the tactical station, watching her fingers dance across the display as her neural implants pulse with concentrated effort. Her posture shifts subtly—shoulders tensing, head tilting—tells of intense focus I’ve learned to read.

“They’re not just targeting random facilities,” she says, her voice carrying that edge of steel I’ve come to admire. “Look at these distribution patterns. They’re systematically cutting off supply lines to specific colonies.”

K’vex leans forward. “Fascinating. The timing suggests insider knowledge of our patrol schedules.” The question carries too much weight, too much specific interest.

“The source of their intelligence is less relevant than our response,” I growl, my wings mantling slightly. “What matters is protecting those colonies.”

A subtle chime announces another incoming transmission. Murmurs of discontent ripple through the Brotherhood captains as Ambassador Ta’vag’s hologram materializes, his russet fur catching the blue light of the projection. Several captains shift uneasily—STI officials aren’t typically welcome at Brotherhood gatherings.

“Your presence is also... unexpected, Ambassador,” Vornak rumbles, obsidian scales gleaming as he leans forward.

Ta’vag’s fur ripples in what might be amusement. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Captain. The diplomatic corps can provide legitimate supply routes through neutral territories. It would allow us to bypass their blockades while maintaining plausible deniability.”

“A sound strategy,” K’vex agrees too quickly, her six hands moving in those telling contradictory patterns. “But such coordination requires... delicate handling. As your most experienced trade route captain, I would be honored topersonally oversee the information flow between agencies. To ensure nothing sensitive falls into the wrong hands, of course.”

I note how her lowest set of hands drift toward concealed weapons even as her upper hands make soothing gestures. She’s fishing for access, trying to position herself at the center of our intelligence network.

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