I look back and forth from Vihkir to Maxwell. Laurine, who’s been playing with her braid and stealing uneasy glances Vihkir’s way ever since she walked into this meeting, turns to me in silence and mouths: What the hell is going on?

I sigh. I guess it was to be expected since they have yet to be introduced…

“Laurine?” I try.

She jumps in her seat and pushes the light-blond strands of her hair behind her ear. “Y-yes?” Laurine asks, accidentally hitting her elbow against the round steel table and yelping soon after.

“This is Vihkir,” I tell her, pointing to the man, alien—alien-man?—in question.

“O-oh.” She holds out her hand with hesitance. “Nice to meet you, Vik… Vik—”

“Vihkir,” he supplies, giving her palm a subtle shake, one that leaves her staring at her fingers with a look that screams: Is this really happening?

It makes me wonder whether he has managed to catch on to our ways in so few hours, or if he’s just been lucky so far.

Laurine turns my way. “So, where’s the other one?” she asks me.

“That’s…why we called you here,” I say. “He’s sick…I think.”

“What do you mean you think?”

“I…” From beneath the table, my nails dig into my palms. “I don’t really understand what happened, but I guess he is. One hour he was perfectly fine, the next, he was deaf, and still is.”

Laurine looks to the ceiling. She hums. One finger tapping her elbow. “Has he eaten something bad?” she asks me. “Or, could it have been something he touched on the moon you explored?”

Vihkir clears his throat. “If I may interrupt, perhaps I could be of assistance?” he says.

I raise a brow. “I thought you wanted him dead.”

“Well.” He chuckles. “That’s not entirely false. However, as a temporary member of your crew, I feel it is my duty to behave as one. So, if saving him will be helpful to you, as you were helpful to me, I don’t mind sacrificing a few hours to help out an enemy, albeit one who happens to be your friend. Obviously…” He leans forward. A dark glare swims in his eyes. As he runs his tongue along his teeth, Vihkir smirks. “Had I been alone with him, it would have been quite the different story.”

Maxwell scoffs. “That’s nice and all.” He bangs his fist against the table. “But maybe you’re the one feeding us shit right now. What if you’re the reason he’s fucked up? Maybe you have some kind of freaky alien power you haven’t told us about. I don’t trust you,” he says, leaning back into his chair. He crosses his arms and slams both his feet onto the table.

Vihkir shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“Wait,” I blurt. “What are we going to do, then? We can’t just leave him like this, what if it gets worse? I agree with you for once, Maxwell, but I also agree to disagree. What if he’s actually telling the truth and we’re throwing away the opportunity to help Luenos? Who, may I remind you, is really scared and really blind right now.”

“Dude,” Maxwell snorts. “He never had eyes in the first place. He’s always been—”

I squint, press a palm to my forehead, and groan. “That’s not my point here! Also, he can see. It’s just…the echolocation kind of sight.”

Maxwell rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever,” he says. “But they could also be working together and attempting to break our crew apart. Ever thought of that? Heck, maybe they’re even related to the Kraken-thing that took Howard.”

Laurine seems to shrink in her seat.

“I really hate saying this, because I’m not a wet pansy like you”—Maxwell clears his throat—“and it feels like I’m one when I do, but… We can’t be too careful.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Vihkir says, offering him another one of his sly smiles. “What could I do to gain your trust, human? Or at least, a bit of it?”

Elbow pressed to the table, head rested against his palm, Maxwell leans forward and threads his fingers together. "That’s a good question.” He smirks. "What can you do?”

For a moment, Vihkir stays silent. Pressing a closed fist to his lips, he looks down to the transparent table, then finally back to Maxwell. “I’m good with tech,” is his answer.

“Right.” Maxwell crosses his legs and cocks his head to the side. “Care to explain how that helps us?”

“I heard your crewmates argue. It appears you are missing your best man and that your ship is in need of repairs.”

The light above us flickers.

“Dang.” Maxwell spares me a glance. “Your new girlfriend’s good, dude.”

A flush of warmth crawls to my cheeks. “M-Max! Stop that! You know h-he’s not—"

“So,” Vihkir huffs, “do we have a deal then, human?”

“It depends, alien,” Maxwell says. “Can you fix this ship?”

“I could build you a new one with my eyes closed.”

“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Vihkir threads his fingers together and looks him dead in the eye. “Give me one day,” he says, his palms now pressed to the table as he rises and walks to Maxwell’s side. “One day,” he echoes as he leans closer to him, “and all the parts I need. And I’ll prove to you that I speak the truth.”

“Wait,” I blurt. “What if Luenos gets worse during that time?”

Vihkir waves me off. “Don’t worry, he won’t. He’ll probably have a hard time, yes, but I’m certain he can go for at least another month.”

“How can you be so sure?” I ask him, lips still parted as I meet his gaze, filled with an invisible fire, that I find myself wondering who it is it burns for. Is he like Luenos? Can he also detect the changes in me?

“When we kept prisoners of war,” Vihkir says, “I watched a couple fall to the same illness.”

My eyes go wide. “You…you kept prisoners of war?”

His palm still flat against Maxwell’s end of the table, Vihkir chuckles. “Come on, Vance. We’re enemies. Our races hate each other with a passion. Why does that even surprise you?”

At my left, laughter erupts from Maxwell’s seat. “Man, for once I agree with him. Don’t be such a baby, Vancey. Even we keep prisoners of war, but you never bitched about it back on Earth, did you?”

“I-I know! But…” I bite my lip. “This is…different.”

“How?” Vihkir asks me. “How is it different? We’re only protecting our people.”

“By doing evil deeds?” I mutter.

“By picking the better of those evils,” he tells me before turning back to Maxwell. “Now, I assure you, Luenos will be fine. I’ve seen healers deal with cases like these, and I know how to treat them.”

Before I have a chance to interject, Maxwell holds out a hand for Vihkir to shake. “It’s a deal, scorpion-boy. Now tell me, what parts do you need? And”—he snickers—“should I realize you’re just messing with us, at how many degrees must one cook you for that peculiar body of yours to roast?”