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“So Greggans are those frog guys, right?” Apollonia asked.

Two minutes ago Captain Brooks had sent out a message to the command officers – and her, apparently – stating that they have a very likely idea of the pirates’ species.

They were aliens she had heard of, but knew very little about.  They were big, ugly, and mean, if the crappy serials she’d watched were any indication.

Y’s image shifted, and he looked to her.  “I have heard the comparison of Greggans to frogs or toads, but I admit I do not see it.  I have heard them sometimes described as “Lophiiformoids”, and it is somewhat apt, though they lack the lure of Earthly anglerfish and do not live lives anything like those animals-“

“Show me?” Apollonia asked.

“Nor,” Y chided, “You are perfectly capable of searching up images yourself.”

“You’re just so much better at it,” she replied, smiling.  “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an image of a real one.  In the shit I used to watch they were a hundred percent faked.  Sometimes in cartoons they’d even be kinda cute, like mudskippers or something.”

Y paused again.  “I find it curious how you know more obscure Earth animals better than more common ones,” he noted.  “But I shall indulge you.  These are official images of the Greggan species that I keep on-record.  We have a large amount of data on their biology, though not nearly as much as we do for member species of the Sapient Union-“

“Don’t a lot of them live in Union space, though?” Apollonia asked.  The images appeared, and she studied them.  They were slightly more prosaic than the ones she’d seen in her old shows; less monstrous and more plausible.  But they were much closer to the hideous monsters than the cute mudskippers.

“There are groups of them, yes, but they do not have any centralized government.  As such we can only negotiate with individual bands.  They have become a Present Species, but not a Member Species.  This means they have full rights as citizens, of course, and they gain special rights to help protect their culture, but they cannot engage in major diplomacy and are considered specific citizens of the species whose territory they have settled in.”

“Oh,” Apollonia said distractedly, flipping through the three-dimensional images more.  “Wait, why aren’t they united?  And why are there so many kinds?  Are these just like . . . races?  Sub-species?”

So far she’d seen what seemed to be half a dozen different forms, varying hugely in size and specific shape.  They looked related, but not the same species.

“Your first question is a historical one,” Y replied.  “You see, the Greggan homeworld was destroyed in a war with the Aeena.  All of their colonies followed.  Greggans, therefore, are a diaspora people without a world.”

“Dark!” Apollonia goggled.  “Why did the Aeena do that?”

“We are unsure,” Y admitted.  “The Greggans say that it was a purely xenophobic attack, while the Aeena claim that they were attacked first and acted defensively.  Given that the Aeena have tried to exterminate other species and had an extreme technological advantage, I am inclined to believe the Greggan version of events.”

“Why haven’t the survivors settled a new world?” she asked.

“One cause of the defeat of the Greggans was the internal contradictions within their society.  To understand that, it ties into answering your second question,” Y explained.   “You see, Greggans have an interesting mode of reproduction-“

“Ew, no, I don’t want to hear about frogfish sex!” Apollonia said quickly.

“Do not worry,” Y replied, sounding amused.  “It is all extremely Nor-friendly.  I am simply saying that the Greggans have three separate sexes . . .  Oh, you know what?  I have a file here that will be far quicker to read than to have me explain it!”

A link appeared, and Apollonia considered a moment before clicking it.

File: Greggan Biology and Culture 101

As she finished it, she heard Y speak.

“Ah, and there!  My paperwork is finished.  I am now off-duty.”

“Nice,” Apollonia replied, her voice dry as she closed the file.  “I’m still on-duty.  I think I’ll be on-duty until we catch the pirates.”  She paused.  “Does you being off mean you’ll be going?”

“Of course not,” Y replied.  “Speaking to you is not a duty, Nor.  I was, strictly speaking, goofing off by talking to you  while I was on-duty.  However, our conversation did not affect my ability to perform my duties, and I feel confident you will not tell on me.”

Apollonia thought for a second that one of the lights that represented an eye winked off for a second, and she blinked, unsure.

“I’d say let’s go do something,” she said, feeling a sudden loneliness.  “But I can’t even leave the damn bridge area.  It’s like I’m a prisoner.”

“You are simply on-duty,” Y replied earnestly.

“I’m just sitting here,” she replied, her voice surly, rubbing the side of her head.  It had felt like she’d been hearing some annoying hum ever since they’d arrived here.

“Which is, in fact, your duty.  Many people have more involved jobs, it is true, but yours is invaluable.  Cerebral Readers such as yourself seem to provide a passive defense against the Reality Break Shadow effects of Leviathans – and other tenkionic matter or krahteon radiation.”

“I know,” she replied.  “But don’t I get time off?”

“Not during this time, no.  You are on duty,” Y answered, again not meanly.

“I guess I’m at least raking in the cash,” she said, caught off-guard by the bitterness in her own words.

The image of him paused, his head tilting in a thoughtful way.

“From the perspective of many your position would appear a simple and easy one, Nor.  You do clock more time of labor than most, though it is simply by being.  But I know that this view of the ease of your life does not reflect the reality.  You are uneasy sitting and doing nothing; despite your self-deprecating jokes about your own laziness, in your home system every moment of your time was spent in a struggle to simply meet the basic needs of life.  It is told in not just your person but your very genes; your stress levels are constantly elevated, your cells and body ready to react to a sudden change and threat that is not going to materialize here.  Yet you cannot simply stop these things by knowing that.  You are fighting a battle you cannot stop, and it wears on you – physically, mentally, and emotionally.”

Apollonia’s heart was beating in her chest at Y’s words.  He had seen through her with ease, seen deeper into her than she had ever even put into thought.  Her hands shook slightly, and her mouth felt dry.  She was not sure what to say.

“But you do your duty despite that,” Y continued.  “And we are all grateful for it.  My central processor is actually not far from your location, which means you are keeping me safe with your presence.  I am being quite honest when I say; I am grateful for your protection.”

Apollonia looked down, feeling ashamed now of her tantrum.  The fact that Y was a hyper-intelligent AI always seemed just a cool part of him; but it was unnerving to see how he could read her so easily.

Yet she did feel better to think that he was grateful to her.  Maybe he was just lying, but she believed that he was being honest.  His gratitude meant it was a reciprocal street, not just . . . her being the AI’s pet monkey.

Yet some of her frustration remained.

“I am glad about that, Y, I really am.  I do want to help – you and the others.  Being seen as valuable instead of a dead weight is great, but . . . I just wish my helping was more than just sitting around.  Like I could do something actively, you know?”

Y was slow to respond.  “I understand.  That time will come, however.  You are still studying for your officer candidacy test, are you not?”

“Yeah,” she replied.  “I dunno how much I’m really learning.  Kiseleva stopped having me do that ball-chasing game and has me doing a mix of exercises and reading.  But honestly?  I think she views me as too weak to be of much use . . .”

“It is best to play to your strengths,” Y said.  “So if she has you studying, then I suspect she believes you will excel more in that regard than at the physical tasks.”

“I feel like I suck at this too, not gonna lie,” she admitted.  “But . . . like going back to what you said earlier, I have to wonder; when will I actually get better?  When will my body and cells or whatever say ‘oh wait, we don’t have to be hypervigilant all the time’?  When can I feel like I actually belong in a place that doesn’t hate me?”

The words came pouring out, against her better judgment.

Y was quiet for a few moments.  “I always attempt to be honest, Nor, but I admit; I do not know.  Sometimes what the human body learns it can never unlearn.  It is a spectacular machine of evolution, capable of adapting to new environments.  But once it has been dedicated along a path, it is not always so easy to change its course.”

“So, never,” she said.

“You will change with time.  I cannot say how; but you will always be Apollonia Nor,” Y said.  “Whatever you become, that is what you are.  The quest for self-improvement is an ancient human struggle; yet perhaps at times, the best step forward is acceptance of your own qualities.  To see those you cannot change for strengths or at least to accept them.  As much as I can cure, I cannot change people – nor would I want to.”

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