I take a deep breath. Succumbing to anger will bring you nothing, Jonathan.

A diplomatic solution is clearly off the table—at least with the lizards. That much is obvious. I shift my gaze to the aliens around me. Other than the Squid, I count about a dozen creatures. Roughly half are humanoid, while the rest are... less appealing. I’d rather not engage with them if I can help it.

Some, at least, resemble Earth creatures, which is mildly comforting. One has a canine-like structure, another looks like some kind of blue-furred mammalian. Then there are those two—slender, grey-skinned, large black eyes—almost like the classic greys from movies, just taller.

Raising my head, I speak, voice as calm and measured as ever. I try to add a friendly spin to it, too. “I need information.”

A familiar feminine voice responds from across the cell. I see her now—a humanoid feline-like creature.

"We're on a slaver ship. We’ll be taken to one of the Verni’s planets and.. sold there.”

Right. That much I already figured out. Not exactly useful. I breathe in and out, keeping my frustration in check.

"Can anyone here pilot this ship?" I whisper.

A few aliens stir, but no one answers.

“Why? Planning an escape?” The feline girl again. Seems she’s the leader personality in here*.* Her voice is too loud, though. I hope the cell isn’t monitored, but at this point, I have to take that risk.

"Maybe," I reply. "I’m confident I can take down those two guards. But I need to know how many are on board, and if someone can fly this thing, if it comes to it."

“Be quiet or you’ll get us all killed!” someone blurts out.

Tempting to respond, but the situation demands calm. I settle for a simple, reassuring: “It will be alright.”

My black-furred feline accomplice seems to appreciate that answer—her ears perk up slightly.

"I can do it. These small vessels can be piloted by a single individual, though they’re usually dual-piloted. I’ve personally seen three armed slavers, plus the one in a lab coat who checked our health levels."

Five or six at minimum.

“…These ships typically only have space for five people to sleep comfortably, so I doubt there are many more onboard," she adds.

She could be useful after all*.*

Our hands aren’t bound. No one has stormed in to execute us for openly discussing escape. These slavers are amateurs.

I smile. Jonathan Trent—first human to make contact with intelligent alien life, now on the verge of a daring escape from slavers. My legend keeps growing. Forget simple fame. Once I return to Earth, I will go down in history books.

As I relish my destined greatness, the Squid speaks, ruining my moment.

“But… are you sure you can take them on?” he asks, voice thick with fear. “The Verni are strong...”

Ugly, and a coward? I hope this thing doesn’t make it.

Before I can answer, Feline Girl does it for me. “Look at him. Big, built like a rock. I’ve never seen his species, but he looks like he hits hard.”

That strokes my ego a little.

“I do,” I say, letting a hint of smugness slip into my voice.

I don’t mind this one. Maybe I am a cat person after all.

“They might not be listening, but I bet they’re watching. They have to be monitoring us somehow, it wouldn’t make sense otherwise. Pretend you’re sick. I’ll do the rest.”

My newly acquired minion doesn’t waste time. She clutches at her chest, staggers a little, then drops to the floor, seemingly unconscious.

What. Was. That.

There’s no way they’re falling for this. That was atrocious. The overacting of a 14-year-old in a school play. I am surrounded by useless id—

The doors slide open.

I blink. They bought it.

Surprise mixes with disappointment. I expected intergalactic slavers to be smarter than this. At the very least, you’d think they wouldn’t just walk into a cell full of unrestrained prisoners.

And yet… here we are.

My heartbeat spikes. My body tenses. Adrenaline floods my veins. Life or death.

A quick glance to my left: one guard near the door, armed but not aiming. The other moves past me, heading toward the girl. He’s too focused on her.

That’s my moment. I spring forward.

Right arm around its scaly neck. Left arm slides under its shoulder and locks my grip. His head is mine. I press. Hard.

It struggles. Weakly. My grip is iron.

The second guard panics. I turn, shifting my weight, positioning my meat-shield between us.

"What the fu— Let him go!" he shouts, pointing his weapon towards me. He’s scared. Inexperienced. My gamble paid off. He should’ve killed us both already, but he cares about his colleague’s life.

"Easy now," I say, voice calm, smooth. I need to show him who’s in control. "Don’t do anything stupid."

That’s right, I hold the cards. My shield is gasping for air. I let it breathe, just a little. Don’t die on me yet, I have use for you still.

The feline girl moves. She’s quick. She grabs the weapon from my lizard-shield’s holster. Unexpected, but I’m not complaining. She ducks behind me and my cover, and raises the gun towards the slaver.

I wait. One second. Two seconds. Three.

She’s not shooting.

Why is she not shooting?!

Stolen novel; please report.

I hear heavy footsteps. Someone’s running.

The third slaver.

“Just fucking shoot him already!” I bark.

The cat hesitates. The slaver doesn’t. Gunfire erupts.

I duck behind my shield. It hits him. Hits one of the other captives as well, maybe more. Screams. Panic.

Finally, the cat fires back. Sloppy. Miss. Miss. Lucky shot— headshot. The guard drops.

No time to waste now.

I shove my wounded shield forward, rip the weapon from her hands and point it at the wounded Verni on the floor. It turns around, raising one hand towards me, trying to shield himself somehow. I think it tries to speak, but I don't let it. I put him out of his misery with a shot to the head.

But this isn't over just yet.

I lift my weapon and hold steady, listening to the approaching lizard’s clumsy, heavy footsteps pounding against the metal floor. It's coming.

My reaction time? Perfect as always.

I pop its head as soon as it turns the corner, before it can even raise its weapon. The body jerks violently, spasming, a puppet with its strings cut. Yuck.

I must say, I am quite impressed with myself. I must add sharpshooting to the list of things I excel at.

I step over the lifeless bodies of the lizards and move out of the cell, pressing my back against the wall beside the door. A quick glance down the hallway—clear. I turn back to the cell. The others are still huddled inside, some tending to the wounded captive. Seriously? We’re not done yet, you idiots.

“You. The girl who helped earlier. Get out here and grab that weapon. Now.” My voice is firm, but I rein in the aggression. No need to scare off my only useful ally.

She snaps out of her daze and does as she’s told, though I can tell the sight of the corpses unsettles her. Can’t blame her—it’s my first time seeing dead bodies up close too, and it is not a pleasant sight.

The scientist lizard wasn’t armed last time I saw it, but the pilot, or pilots, might be. That means at least two more threats remain.

“I’m the best shot here, and you’re the smallest target. You go first, I’ll cover you,” I say. It’s the truth, and it makes tactical sense. But my main priority here is not being shot, if I have to be completely honest.

She hesitates, fear clear on her face, but after a moment, she nods and moves ahead. Huh, I am slightly impressed, I didn’t think she’d have it in her.

She reaches a door, and I position myself on the opposite side. Locked. Could I force it open? I guess I have to find out.

“I’ll try to break it open. Stay sharp,” I warn. She still looks doubtful, but nods again.

I plant my feet firmly and grip the small handle on the sliding door with both hands. It’s likely there for emergencies—if the power fails, it can still be forced open manually. Smart design, but it will be their ruin.

I pull with all my strength, every muscle tensing, every fiber of my perfectly honed body working in unison. The metal groans in protest.

A quick glance at my feline companion—her ears perked, eyes wide. Yeah, she’s impressed. You like what you see, huh? I know you do.

With a final yank, the door wrenches free, sliding open almost all the way.

A voice shrieks from inside. “What the fuck?! M-Monster!”

An understandable reaction, I’d be scared too.

I step inside slowly, taking in the room. An office, his office I imagine. The scientist lizard is backed into the far corner, trembling. No weapon in sight.

“Well, well, well…” I mutter, a smirk creeping onto my face.

The cat-girl follows behind, scanning the room with nervous energy. I don’t mind her caution.

I keep my voice steady, lowering my weapon slightly to appear less threatening. “Now, let’s stay calm. No one has to die here.” Of course, that’s a lie. He’s not making it out of this alive.

“Stay away, freak!” he screeches, pressing himself further against the wall. He’s absolutely terrified. I can’t say I dislike this feeling.

Maybe I should drag this out, take slow, deliberate steps, let him squirm a little more. Flash a grin, maybe lick my lips? No—too much. Control yourself Jonathan, this is not the time for fun.

I close the distance, his panicked attempts to retreat utterly useless. Nowhere to run.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” I lie again. “I just need to know how many of you are on this ship.”

“Five! Five! There’s five of us!” The answer comes instantly, no hesitation. He’s too scared to lie, and that number lines up with what we expected.

“And how many weapons? Are the others armed?”

This time, he hesitates. I must snuff out the flames of defiance from his head at once.

I press the barrel of my gun to his head. “No lying.”

“Three! Only three of us have guns! B-But Derek might have a knife or something!”

Derek…? What kind of alien lizard is named Derek? But that’s good news. Sounds like we’ve already taken out the biggest threats.

“And where is Derek now?”

“In the cockpit! He probably heard the shots and locked himself inside... Just don’t kill me! I’ll do anything!”

Pathetic. But I need him calm—if Derek panics and does something drastic, like destroying the controls, this escape could get a lot more complicated. The other slaver hesistated to shoot his fellow lizard. Maybe Derek has a heart, too.

“Alright, me and you are gonna take a little walk. We’re going to Derek, alright?”

He nods frantically.

I step aside and let him move ahead, keeping my weapon trained on his back. “No funny business, or I’ll be forced to hurt you. And I don’t want to.”

He nods again, picking up the pace.

Through all of this, the feline alien has been watching me in silence. I catch her gaze—wide-eyed, unreadable. Awe? Disgust? Hard to tell. Admittedly, if someone walked in right now with no context, I’d probably look like the bad guy here. But she hasn’t stopped me, hasn’t objected. She’s following along without a word. That’s good enough for me.

We reach another door. Locked, of course.

I gesture to the scientist. “Knock.”

He obeys, rapping his knuckles against the metal. “Derek... Derek, it’s me! Open up, man, please!”

He doesn’t even try to mask the fear in his voice.

From the other side, a voice responds. “Roy? Is that you?! What happened?!”

I blink. Roy? What the.. Who is naming these aliens?!

“T-the slaves they… Just open the door, man! They’ll kill me, please!” Roy wails, desperation thick in his voice.

“I can’t—I-I… Stay away! I’ll destroy the controls! I swear I will! You’re going down with me!”

Exactly what I feared. His voice is shaking, but I believe him. He’s scared, but not bluffing.

I take a breath, keeping my tone steady, reassuring.

“Listen, Derek, right? I don’t want to hurt you. I get it, alright? You were just doing your job. It happens. I’m not angry with you. I just need you to take us to the closest inhabited planet and drop us off.”

My acting is flawless—calm, sincere, not a hint of deception.

Silence. Then, his shaky response.

“Y-You’re lying! You want revenge! You’ll kill me! Fuck it, I-I’ll kill us all!” He sounds less sure than before.

Roy sobs. “Derek, just open the fucking door!”

“Wait! Listen! Listen!” I cut in sharply. “Why would I even kill you? Think about it—it makes no sense. I don’t know how to fly this ship. You know I’m not a spacefaring species, right? That’s why Roy here had to install this thing in me to understand me, correct? You follow? If I kill you, I’m dead too.”

My voice stays measured, logical. “All I want is a ride. You drop me off, I’m gone. Hell, between us, I’ll even let you keep the other slaves. I don’t know them, and hey—I get it, bills to pay, right? I don’t judge. Just open the door, man. Let’s talk this through.”

I am a goddamn genius. The logic is airtight. He doesn’t even realize it yet, but he’s already lost. Whether or not he truly believes me, the alternative is guaranteed death.

Silence. Then, finally—the door hisses open.

Derek stands there, gripping a pathetic little knife in his scaly hands. A sad sight.

I shove Roy forward, and he stumbles inside without hesitation, running straight to his friend.

“See? I’m not gonna shoot you. Just relax, okay?” I say smoothly, lowering my weapon.

The cat-girl does the same behind me. Not that it matters—I could tear these two apart with my bare hands if I wanted to.

But they don’t need to know that.

For the first time in a while, the feline alien speaks.

“I am Princess Tal-Vira of Xilthara, and I will see to it that you are brought to justice!” Her voice carries surprising confidence, though there’s a flicker of doubt beneath it. I doubt anyone else picked up on it, though.

A young princess, perhaps still unaccustomed to wielding authority. Or maybe the chaos of the past hour has shaken her. Either way, she’s holding herself together well enough all things considered.

“..However, if you obey my command, I promise your lives will be spared from execution!”

They will..?

“I order you to set a course for Xilthara immediately!” she demands. I don’t mind her taking the lead for now. If she’s truly royalty, that means she has power, and I could use someone with influence.

Derek drops the knife and does as instructed.

Tal-Vira settles into one of the piloting chairs, right next to Derek, keeping a close eye on him. Smart. Roy, on the other hand, is still shaking, sitting slumped against the wall like a lost child.

I lean back, allowing myself a moment of indulgence. The lone explorer lost around Saturn, presumed dead, only to return at the head of an intergalactic fleet. A legend reborn. A hero, rescuing the alien princess, bringing humanity into the galactic community. The book deal alone—hell, the movie rights—practically write themselves. But not George R.R. Martin. No, I’d like the book finished in my lifetime. Maybe Brandon Sanders—

I’m pulled from my thoughts by the sound of something wet and unsettling. I turn to see the squid alien, Xo-Ran-Ti, covered in dark green blood. Right. The other slaves. I forgot about those.