The Pirate and The Prisoner - [Chapter Eleven]
I'm still not dead quite yet, even if the world is trying really, really hard to amend that. Unemployment woes, Employment woes, a couple months without power because of surprise bills, and all manner of other BS really burnt me out of doing much of anything.
I'm not exactly sure as to when the next chapter of this, nor Guns of Our Forefathers may release in the future, but they will eventually.
If you like my work, please consider making a donation on My Ko-fi page. Any little bit would really go a long way, and I would be immensely grateful.
Big thanks to u/TigerMan8592, u/Radiotrophic_author, u/Botanist-key-lime, u/JulianSkies, and others on discord for proofreading this chapter.
Memory Transcription: Vircha, Arxur Defector, Crewmember of "The Scarlet Drake".
Date [standardized human time]: October 17th, 2097.
Turning around the corner, yet another dark, steely corridor painted with the dim flicker of emergency lights stretches on before me, and I suppress the urge to sigh. It felt like eternity since that radio call left me trudging onward through these nigh-endless hallways, devoid of life and nearly silent, sans the muffled whine of klaxons in the distance.
If nothing else, this long stretch of tedium gives plenty of time to think. And do some thinking I have—with precious little to show for it.
Much of it was the same musings I’ve had many times before; questions of who I am, what do I truly want, why was I so willing to lose everything I had chasing an impossible dream that I have had to grapple with for months now. Questions that I feel no closer to having answers for.
But at this moment? My mind instead drifts more to the present: What is it the Captain wants me for?
A rather mundane question given the circumstances, but one that confuses me all the same. That’s not to say that I’ve never been called upon for assistance during a raid, of course, but… Every time the Captain has requested my help, it’s always for the same thing: a fight.
Several times in the past, one of the expeditionary teams got wrapped up in particularly heavy combat that they weren’t able to handle alone, and needed me to break the stalemate. It’s something I’ve come to expect in my time aboard the Scarlet Drake.
But if that’s what this is… why not just say so?
Captain Ilkam’s not stupid. He wouldn't play all confused and hesitant on the radio over getting into some scrape. They’re better than that. No, this is clearly about something different. Something that’s worrying them… scaring them.
More scared than they are of me.
But what?
THUD!
My haze of thoughts are brought to an abrupt end, replaced by a wave of disorientation and, more importantly, a sudden throbbing pain in my snout.
…I just walked into a door. Well.
Taking a step back, blinking the confusion away momentarily, I let out a huff in annoyance. Letting myself get that damned distracted? Stupid.
I look over this newly-appeared doorway blocking my path. It doesn’t appear particularly noteworthy, save for the hatch itself being a good bit wider than the others I've seen so far.
On one side, a row of painted text that reads “Starboard Connector", followed by a rough angular map showing the different paths that branch off from it. On the other side, however, is a small keypad. I reach out to tap one of the buttons with a claw, but am met with a flashing red warning on the screen above: “SECURITY LOCKOUT ENGAGED”
Hrmph. I don’t think so!
I’ve been on more of these Fed ships than I can count, and they’re all the same: just beside the keypad, there’s always a large metal panel that’s disconnected from the rest of the wall, held on with only a couple bolts—and maybe a magnet or two. If I just slip a claw around the edge, and pull really, really hard…
CLANG!!!
The metal plate falls to the ground with a clatter, the quick access bolts sheared from their housings. And where it once was lies exactly what I was looking for: a curved pneumatic handle, marked “MANUAL DOOR OVERRIDE”. Yes!
With a heavy yank of the handle, the double doors slowly hiss open to reveal…
…Another dark, grey hallway.
The tired sigh I felt before comes back once more, and this time I don’t even bother to hold it in as I step through the boundary. One really has to wonder just how large this damned ship has to-
I freeze mid-stride just as a strong, pungent metallic stench fills my nostrils.
Blood.
A lot of blood.
My legs burst into movement before I could think. The steely walls and flashing lights blur past, melting into the periphery of my vision. My thoughts run rampant in my mind, yet every one urges my body to move faster. To Run.
With every step, that smell grows yet stronger.
A part of me, one still stuck in another life, feels the taste of iron and ichor on my tongue and is near ecstatic. A primal burning in my veins that screams of feast aplenty, of honor and glory, of one more hunt’s success. That this is who we’re meant to be.
In that other life, I would have believed it. I did believe it.
Now? I pray that I’m not too late.
Just as the stench grew near overpowering, I just barely managed to spot a sign dangling down from the ceiling at a junction of the hall. An arrow points rightward down the split hall, with the words “Primary Specimen Observation” etched into it—once in the sweeping Farsul script, and again in Kolshian. The research labs.
My claws shake. I squeeze them into fists to still them. It doesn't help.
A moment to brace myself, hesitation pounding in my chest, I turn to look… And I am met with utter chaos.
Countless bullet holes and plasma scars dot the bulkhead walls. Blood of several hues stain the ground, pooling every which way. Upturned furniture strewn about haphazardly. A heavy gun emplacement lays thrown to one side.
And amidst it all, crumpled in lifeless heaps, are nearly a dozen corpses.
My throat hitches. That burning in my veins returns near tenfold. I’m not even sure it’s the same as before, but I try to ignore it regardless. I take one slow, shaking step forward, then another, toeing carefully around the bodies that now surround me.
My eyes dart between each one over and over in near desperation.
Many of the bodies are Farsul, with one or two Kolshians among them.
And by the Prophet’s blessing, none have faces I recognize.
I let out a breath, one I hadn’t realized I was holding. The almost foreign feelings of worry lifts off my shoulders like a removed weight. I look up to the door at the end of the hall, ready to move on… then pause, brow furrowed in thought.
My gaze returns to the dead prey on the ground, looking over them now more objectively. The bodies are recent, sure. But not as recent as I had first figured. They must have been dead for at least an hour or two, maybe more. Which means that by the time the Captain radio’d for me, they would have already been gone.
Beyond that, it’s also… quiet. No gunfire. No screaming. Nothing. Whatever happened here, it’s already long over.
Didn’t need me here for the fight then after all.
So then why the hell does-
My teeth grit together in annoyance and twist back toward the door. Damnit, enough of this. You can't work out every mysterious order by standing out here thinking all the time, Vircha. If you want answers, then go in there and get them.
A quick slap of the doorpad’s screen, thankfully devoid of any security lockout, and the door slides open. The chaotic mess of the outer hallway was mirrored within, with flipped tables and shattered computers scattered on the floor, even the occasional smear of blood trailing between the upturned furniture.
Yet the prey within were still standing.
More importantly, they were ones that I knew.
None of them seemed to notice my entrance, all quietly whispering to one other in the dim light. Yet the tension between them was thick and opaque, so much so I felt I could reach out a claw and grab it physically. A tension I knew would grow thicker still the moment one of them finally noticed my presence.
“...Usually, when you guys call for my help, it’s not this quiet.”
The words shambled past my lips before I could think to stop them. Some stupid, pitiable attempt at a joke, trying to cure that pressure in the room. An attempt that clearly did not work. In an instant, the hushed whispers cease as a half-dozen pinprick eyes all focus on me. In fear.
Do you understand yet, Vircha?
An all too familiar voice echoed in the back of my skull, venom lacing his words. No. Not now.
They’re terrified of you. As they should be. They are weak, and we are not.
Please… Just-
How did you ever get it in your head that you could become one of them? Are you truly that naive?
They will never trust you.
ENOUGH!
I bite back the desire to scream aloud, just barely. You’re wrong. You’re WRONG!
The crew, they have to trust me. I would never be here if they didn’t!
And the captain, he-
He…
Wait.
A concerning thought breaks me from my haze, my focus back on the room and the ones in here with me.
The crippled Gojid first officer. The Harchen marine. The newly-hired Krakotl recruit.
And just out of sight, a restrained Farsul in a lab coat.
“Where’s the captain?” I asked quickly, glancing between the other crew. He had told me that he would explain when I got here, and yet when I arrive he’s suddenly missing? It’s not adding up.
The Harchen soldier—Rilzev, my brain finally supplies—is the first to move. With a deep breath, he slowly raises his hand and points at a small door to my left, one I had missed when I came in. Above is another sign, “Specimen Containment.”
“...He’s in through there. Past the airlock.” …Airlock?
“Alright, wh- What in the hell’s is going on here?!”
My voice raised more than I wanted, and I suppress a wince as the younger Krakotl flinches back at the outburst. But I’m desperate. Nothing has made any damned sense on this ship since that radio call.
Rilzev takes another breath. “...The captain found something in that cell. Something he couldn’t explain. He… We called because we thought that maybe you could.”
I did not like that answer. I really didn’t. It made my scales run cold and my mouth turn dry.
“Wha…I- I dont-” My mind and words stumbled. “Do… do you know anything? About what’s…” My voice trailed off, but the intent did not. What’s in the cell. What’s it doing on this ship. What’s so terrifying to them that they need me to handle it.
“From what he saw, what he told us…” He paused, eyes still trained on the airlock doors. “...It might be best if you look for yourself.”
I turn to look at the door myself.
Fuck.
My breathing feels shallow, like there's some nonexistent weight pressing on my chest. Came all this way for answers, and all of a sudden I’m not sure I even want them.
Go. Just put one foot in front of the other.
But with every step a thousand thoughts scream between my ears. By the time my claw touches the keypad, I can barely hear the door slide open. When it shuts behind me and the airlock starts to cycle, the crushingly small passageway and cool metal walls pressed against my skin hardly registers at all.
‘From what he saw…’ The sentence repeats in my head over and over.
‘What he told us…’ The horrified look on their face as they said it.
‘...be best if you look for yourself.’ The shiver I felt when they did.
Prophet’s beyond, what am I about to walk into?
It felt like eternity before the door finally opened, but the darkness within was just as uninviting as the airlock. The air felt frigid and stagnant, laced with the flavor of corroded iron and rot. Blood, I realize once more. Old blood. Very old.
A spark of worry tugs at me, but it’s just then that I see him.
“Captain?”
Relief flows through me. That weight on my chest all but vanishes. I take a quick, steadying breath. He’s okay. “What-”
In the dark, something moves. Something’s in here with us. The question dies in my throat as my head whips around to look.
I peer out into the shadows.
And a pair of eyes stare back at me.
Memory Transcription: Alex Strider, Human Specimen.
Date [standardized human time]: October 17th, 2097.
I tried very hard to prepare myself for whatever might be in that airlock. To ready myself to any manner of inhuman, hateful creature that might come through. And what would happen to me when they do.
A distant hissing whirr rings out beyond the door, the air inside cycling.
…Y’now, there was the briefest moment where I had hoped.
When I heard the Squid’s bloodcurdling scream, when the Bird spoke of the ‘Kolshian’s’ death, I had hoped that maybe my torture was truly over.
That maybe, just maybe, I could finally rest.
The door slid open.
How naive you were, Alex.
A massive foot stomped forward, a figure slowly ducking under the threshold as if in slow motion. Claws gripped the doorframe while it moved, scratching into the metal. Dim light from the other’s flashlight reflected off its grey scales, revealing the countless scars that marred its skin.
Then its head, narrow and long and reptilian, slipped into view. Its mouth remained closed, yet rows of thick yellowed teeth peeked out between its lips. A deep raspy exhale exits its snout, a thin mist of condensation blowing out in the cold air.
Finally, after an unending moment, it came out past the doorway into the room.
Once fully inside, and the door behind snapped shut, it stood.
Higher and higher it rose, until the thin spines atop its head brushed against the ceiling. Even still, the creature's body was hunched forward. Its hulking yet oddly sinuous frame looming over the entire room.
Yet of all the horrid features of this monster—the one that gives me pause, and a shiver the biting cold could never bring—are its eyes.
Circles of amber peirce through the dark and shadow, pupils shrunken into razor slits, dart back and forth across the room. Searching. Tracking.
It’s like every nightmare of mine, made manifest.
My body is frozen. Every single muscle locked in place, refusing to even twitch. And at this point, I can't even tell if it's some conscious effort or just unfiltered terrified instinct driving it. My heartbeat pounds in my ears and waves of sweat soaks into my bloodstained shirt, but I dare not move lest that thing sees me.
It hardly matters, anyway. We can’t run, we can’t hide. Just sit here and wait. Besides, what’s one torment switched for another? Chains and batons for teeth and claws?
Just hope this one ends quicker, perhaps.
But, for the moment at least, it has not noticed my existence. It will, eventually. Only a matter of time.
Instead, its gaze turns to the other alien in the room, who has only barely acknowledged its entrance with a passing glance.
The new one’s posture shifts when they see the first, the hunch lowering ever so slightly, its clawed digits uncoiling and its shoulders loosening. All insignificant and near imperceptible things I should not have noticed in reality, yet the adrenaline-fueled, terrified panic gripping my mind focused on every detail.
It opened its mouth, and-
\
“Captain.”
\
The voice rumbles through the room, crashing into me like a peal of thunder in a storm. It's a sound more felt than heard, making the walls vibrate and the bones in my chest rattle.
I flinch. I can’t help it. Worse yet, I couldn't stop it. It was an involuntary thing, my leg jumping a bit in sudden shock.
But that’s all it took.
The alien’s head whips around like a gunshot. Its breath stops. Total silence fills the cell.
\
Its eyes meet mine.
And my blood turns to ice.
\
“No… no, please- please, I… I-”
Jumbled words and empty platitudes spill out breathlessly, which only seem to make its eyes widen. I shrink into the wall, knees pressed up to my chest in some vain attempt to hide, or protect myself, or something. Anything!
Yet I somehow can’t look away. Even as this raptor-esque thing’s piercing gaze burns straight through me, I can’t close my eyes. “P-please- w-why? I-”
Before it could say or do anything to me though, the first alien—the Bird one—stepped forward, a wing raised between us. Or maybe just towards me, I couldn't be sure. With the panic of the Lizard…Dinosaur…Raptor… thing showing up, I had nearly forgotten the first one was still here. And that it was trying to talk to me beforehand. My eyes managed to flick over to them, and thankfully it seems the other aliens’ did too.
“This,” the wing waved slowly back to the other alien. “...is Vircha. Sh-she’s a member of my crew. I asked her to be here.” The Bird one spoke gruffly, even as their voice wavered for a moment.
The Lizard one, ‘Vircha’, looked between me and the Bird but stayed behind them. Just… standing there. I took a breath, trying to get my heart to slow. I’m still damned terrified. I don’t think I’ll ever not feel like that ever again, but… It might just let me think for a bit..
The Bird let its wing fall back to its side, and continued.
“I am Captain Ilkam, the Commander of my ship, ‘The Scarlet Drake’. We…” A long pause, like they were looking for words. “We boarded this ship a few hours ago to seize it, and its cargo, for profit. We’ve been following it for weeks now, but we didn’t know anything about… about this.” The Bir- ‘Ilkam’ finished, gesturing down at me.
That left me in a stunned silence for a time, just trying to process it. “F-for profit? Like… like you’re pirates?” That couldn’t possibly be what they meant, right? They had to mean like a military group, or mercenaries or something-
“...Yes. We- We’re a pirate crew.” They answer, almost sheepishly.
Oh. Sure.
A proverbial sea of questions flood my mind at this strange bombshell of a revelation, the all-consuming fear I felt now tempered with sheer confusion. Fucking Space Pirates?
I inhale, slowly choosing what to say. Focus on what’s important.
“What… does that mean… for me?"
The feathered alien hesitates, the thin clawed fingers on their wings flexing awkwardly. “We… I-I don't know.” they admit. “An hour ago, I didn't think anything like this was even possible—that anything else like the Arxur could even exist. Let alone that I’d have to figure it out personally.”
Again, they give a response that raises more questions than it answers. What the hell does ‘Arxur’ even mean? What does that have to do with-
Just as Ilkam finishes, the big one suddenly moves. It shifts side to side slightly, the quills on its scalp scraping lightly against the metal ceiling. But their eyes stay focused on the bird, and they come no closer.
Another long, shaking breath. “And… t-them?” I ask quietly, raising a shaking finger towards ‘Vircha’, finally trying to address the reptilian elephant in the room. “W-what are they doing here?”
The alien captain turns back to look at them, then closes their eyes and sighs.
“As I said earlier,” they began, turning back to me. “I had asked them to be here. I wanted her help understanding… all this.” Their answer is vague, much like the ones before.
“Why?” I pressed, growing tired of dancing around the subject.
“Because-” they tried, then paused. Their beak opened as if to continue speaking, yet no words came. Just standing there awkwardly. What the hell are they hiding?-
Suddenly, Vircha speaks.
The moment their mouth opens, I flinch back against the wall… but what comes out is not the same voice as before. Not the thunderous, room-shaking growl of some horrible monster, but… quiet. Almost a whisper, each word hushed yet still low and grave.
“Because you're like me.”
I look back up at them to see their focus once again on me. For the first time since they entered, my eyes met theirs.
And in their gaze, I saw a dawning comprehension.
“We’re predators.”
The room goes silent. The edges of my vision blur, everything grows cold and distant, fading into the periphery. And all I can hear are those two words, echoing over and over.
“We’re predators.”
…Isn't this what you are? What you do?
“We’re predators.”
…You’re a monster.
“We’re predators.”
…This is what you deserve.
It repeats and repeats in my mind. The reveal, the accusation. Each echo brings a flash of roiling emotion and haggard breathing, threatening to overwhelm me… and yet, I don’t even recognize the feeling.
Fear? Despair? Pain? Those have been regular companions of my time in this damned place. Every waking moment permeated with them. But this feeling I have now, the thing burning in my chest at their words, it isn’t any of those familiar things.
It’s Anger.
“You… no. You-you’re lying.” I spat their accusation back at them. One of them tries to respond, but I don’t let them. I can barely even see them anymore.
“You, you can’t stand there and try to tell me that- that everything they’ve done to me- All of this, all of THIS!?” I yank forcefully at the shackles binding my arms above me, iron chains clattering loudly. All the agony. All the torment. All the blood, the broken bones, the beatings, the shattered psyche-
“-Is all just because of… people’s food?! Of fucking MEAT?!" I scream out, unfeeling of my throat protests. Weeks? Months? Years of this? Over nothing?!
“I-I won’t accept that! I refuse to!”
For the first time in as long as I've been here, I slowly force myself to my feet. My rage blinding me to the pain I’m surely supposed to feel. Every muscle in my body twists and tightens in fury, tearing at the iron biting into my wrists.
“THE WORLD CAN’T BE THAT FUCKING INSANE!”
The room falls silent.
The rushing in my ears slowly fades away, and eventually my eyes regain their focus.
And with it, every ounce of anger that drove me moments ago fizzles away in an instant.
The Captain, they won’t even look at me. Just staring at the wall behind them with shaking hands and a blank expression. But Vircha? She does look. With pain in her eyes, she looks at me. With sympathy.
With understanding.
I fall back to my knees.
“It… It can’t…”
…right?
Posted Sep 5, 2026, 3:46 PM UTC