I was starting to get used to the weirdness of my situation—or at least, as much as a guy could when abducted by aliens and then turned into some kind of intergalactic debt worker. It still wasn’t clear how long I’d be stuck here, but at least things had settled into something resembling a routine. If I wasn’t breaking something, I was fixing something. And if I wasn’t doing either of those, I was dealing with Vrixibalt pestering me for more "scientific observations."

  Right now, I was dealing with the latter.

  "So, let me get this straight," I said, rubbing my temples as Vrixibalt fidgeted in front of me. "You're saying that my ability to understand you guys now is because of some kind of bio-interface? And it just... kicked in?"

  "Yes, precisely!" Vrixibalt's frills twitched with excitement. "The ship’s neural field has been trying to sync with your cognitive structure since you arrived. Most species adapt within hours, but yours took significantly longer—likely due to your primitive neurology."

  "Gee, thanks," I muttered.

  Vrixibalt either didn’t pick up on my sarcasm or chose to ignore it. "The field allows you to process our language in real-time by stimulating the linguistic centers of your brain. However, written language remains a separate function. Your escape pod had no neural interface, which explains your earlier difficulties."

  That at least explained why I could suddenly understand them but couldn’t make sense of their writing. It also made me wonder—if their tech could do this much, what else could it do? But before I could press for more answers, Skrellk stomped into the room.

  "We have a problem," he growled, crossing his massive arms.

  Vrixibalt’s frills flattened. "What kind of problem?"

  "The human’s 'luck' is becoming a liability," Skrellk said, narrowing his yellow eyes at me.

  "Hey, what did I do this time?" I asked, already bracing myself for the inevitable nonsense.

  Skrellk let out a low, rumbling sigh. "You repaired the secondary coolant relay."

  "You're welcome?"

  Tzakal skittered in behind Skrellk, all four arms twitching with barely contained frustration. "The relay was failing at a predictable rate. I had compensation systems in place to manage the decline. But now, thanks to your 'repairs,' the entire balance of the system is off!"

  I frowned. "Wait, are you telling me you were just letting it break?"

  "It was controlled failure," Tzakal said. "We knew how it would degrade. Now, with your interference, new variables have been introduced!"

  Vrixibalt let out a chittering sound of intrigue. "Fascinating. This aligns with my hypothesis that John’s interactions with complex systems introduce unpredictable deviations."

  I threw up my hands. "So let me get this straight—when things go wrong, it's my fault, but when I try to fix something, it’s also my fault?"

  "Yes," Skrellk said flatly.

  Pelxith fluttered in next, his feathers puffed with nervous energy. "Maybe we should focus on the more immediate concern? The coolant relay is now running above optimal efficiency, but at this rate, it could overcompensate and lead to a full system reboot."

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "And that’s bad?" I asked.

  Tzakal's mandibles clicked in irritation. "A full reboot means the ship will temporarily shut down. That includes artificial gravity, life support, containment fields—"

  I held up a hand. "Okay, okay, I get it. How do we stop it?"

  Tzakal hesitated. "The simplest solution would be to manually regulate the relay, but the access panel is within the reactor bay."

  I waited for the part that made this a problem. "And?"

  Skrellk grunted. "And the reactor bay is a high-radiation zone. It’s shielded, but prolonged exposure is dangerous even for us."

  "Ah." That would explain why they hadn't fixed it themselves.

  Vrixibalt, however, was staring at me with a look that I didn’t like. "This presents a unique opportunity."

  "No," I said immediately.

  "You don’t even know what I was going to say!"

  "Does it involve me doing something risky?"

  "...Potentially."

  "Then no."

  Vrixibalt sighed dramatically. "Your species appears to have an anomalous resistance to radiation compared to most known sapient beings. If we outfitted you with a protective suit, you might be able to—"

  I groaned. "You just want another excuse to study me, don’t you?"

  "That is an ancillary benefit."

  Skrellk crossed his arms. "Look, human, you broke it. You fix it."

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Fine. But if I start glowing in the dark, you’re all paying for my medical bills."

  Vrixibalt clapped his hands together. "Excellent! I’ll prepare the necessary equipment!"

  Pelxith muttered something about this being a terrible idea, but at this point, I was getting used to that reaction.

  I stood in front of the reactor bay doors, wearing what I could only describe as a futuristic hazmat suit. It wasn’t bulky like the ones back on Earth—this thing was sleek, form-fitting, and had an odd gel layer inside that was supposedly "adaptive shielding." I just hoped it actually worked.

  The doors slid open with a hiss, and a wave of heat washed over me. The reactor core pulsed with a steady, rhythmic glow, and the coolant relay was humming along happily, completely unaware that it was about to wreck the whole ship.

  "Okay," I muttered, stepping inside. "Just gotta adjust the flow regulators and—"

  A warning klaxon blared.

  "Human! What did you do?!" Tzakal’s voice crackled over the comms.

  "I just walked in!"

  The ground vibrated beneath me. The reactor’s glow intensified. The relay began pulsing erratically.

  "I don’t like that," I said, backing up.

  "The system is attempting an emergency purge," Vrixibalt said. "You need to stabilize the flow before—"

  A loud clunk echoed through the chamber.

  "—before that happens," Vrixibalt finished weakly.

  I turned slowly. A panel had popped open near the relay, and a thick, pressurized cable had come loose.

  "Uh," I said.

  "Reconnect it!" Tzakal snapped.

  I grabbed the cable, gritting my teeth as it vibrated wildly in my grip. It took everything I had to wrestle it back into place, but the moment I locked it into its housing, the reactor’s glow dimmed back to normal. The klaxons cut off. The ground stopped shaking.

  Silence.

  Then, Skrellk’s voice crackled over the comm. "I cannot believe that worked."

  I leaned against the railing, breathing heavily. "Yeah, well… me neither."

  Vrixibalt sounded positively giddy. "John! You may have just saved the ship!"

  "Great," I panted. "Does that count toward my debt?"

  There was a pause.

  "I will need to calculate the precise value," Vrixibalt hedged.

  I groaned. "Of course you will."

  At least, for once, my luck had worked in my favor.