I turned, and was immediately greeted by an alien eight-pack that looked like it had been carved from shimmering lapis and glued onto his torso by the gods of anatomy. My gaze traveled up to an outstretched arm—corded with elegant veins—to a white lab jacket he was holding out.
"For me?" I croaked.
Of course it's for you, you absolute oaf.
"Yes, Doctor," he said politely. "We must wear sterilized clothing in the lab."
Judging by the way my face went from pasty to fire engine red, he must have noticed my internal meltdown. He glanced down at himself, and with sudden urgency threw a shirt over his shoulders—condemning his glorious abs to fabric prison. A crime, really.
"I am so sorry," he blurted. "Our customs differ from yours. Among the crew, I am used to working without clothing. I forgot humans are more modest."
"It's fine," I squeaked. "Honestly, I don't mind."
"I promise it won't happen again."
I stepped toward him, mortified at my reaction. "You don't have to change for me. I'm a guest on your ship—it's my responsibility to adapt. Please don't make yourself uncomfortable. I'll feel awful."
He studied me quietly. "Are you certain? Your comfort and safety are my highest priority."
Why does everyone on this ship keep saying that?
"It's fine. I'm fine. You're fine. Everything's fine."
I laughed a little too loudly.
Why am I fifteen again? Stop it, brain.
"As you wish," he said, removing the shirt again and offering the jacket.
"Mm-hmm," I murmured, eyes locked on his chest. "Just as I wish…"
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Oh—nothing!" I blurted. "Just excited to see what you're working on."
Smooth, Kira. Very smooth.
He nodded once, expression softening. "To be honest, nothing I am working on compares to your paper on the quantum-biological signature phenomenon. I am not exaggerating: your words changed my perception of the universe."
My heart skipped. "You… read that? The corporation said it was pseudoscience."
Vaelix stepped closer. "They said that because they feared you were right. And they wanted it buried before anyone else could obtain it."
My eyes widened. "How could you possibly know that?"
He flashed a sharp, knowing grin. "We find things others hide."
"Like pirates," I muttered.
"We aren't pirates," he said immediately.
"Everyone keeps telling me what you're not. Nobody tells me what you are. So what are you?"
He was quiet for a moment—long enough that I thought he might actually answer.
"We are... seekers," he said finally. "Of knowledge. Of justice. Of things the galaxy would prefer stay buried." He paused. "And sometimes, of people."
"People like me?"
