Blindy noticed her interest and practically bounced over, grinning.
He leaned in and whispered:
“Crazy, right? I mean—look at this thing—”
He pointed at the tank.
“The fact this little bastard even exists—
it just… it just fries your brain—like—
just completely nukes it.”
He straightened up, planting his hands on his hips with pride.
“Other pirate captains got—y’know—parrots…
monkeys… snakes… whatever—”
He pointed at Pete.
“But me? I got—this.
A critter that—uh—wasn’t even supposed to exist here… like—at all.
I bet others gonna look at him and be like—WHAAAT?”
He smirked, full of himself.
“You could say I’m—uh—
yeah… I mean—
I’m kinda cooler than all those Blackbeards…”
Jackie straightened and smiled.
“Yeah… that’s actually impressive.”
She asked carefully:
“Do you… talk to it often?”
Shiori snorted.
“It’s stupid to talk to food.
I’ll be at the terminal.”
She turned and walked off.
Blindy nodded.
“Yeah—yeah, Jackie—
and Old Pete—he, uh…
he actually answers back… yeah…”
He leaned toward the glass.
“Wanna see?”
Jackie’s eyes widened.
“Uh… sure…”
Blindy tapped the glass.
“Pete…
we… we really always messin’ everything up?”
Pikaia twitched in the water and released a tiny bubble.
BLUP
Blindy nodded, satisfied.
“See?—yeah—he gets it. Totally.”
He looked at Jackie.
“Y-your turn—”
She gave an awkward smile.
“Um… I think I’ll let you do it.”
The aquarium bubbled softly.
Slippery Grandpa Pete drifted inside, making slow S-shaped bends, like the entire history of life on Terra was just… a warm-up stretch to him.
Blindy leaned in again.
“Pete…”
He sighed.
“Why the hell—huh? Why did—did you guys even decide to crawl outta the water—
for f—I mean—why’d you even do that…?”
Pete just drifted along the glass, slow and unconcerned.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have, huh?”
Blindy waved a hand vaguely into space.
“Earth wasn’t enough for us. No—no… it’s never enough. Pff—”
He started counting on his fingers, already losing track halfway through.
“Climbed outta the water…
Then—then we pushed into the sky…
And now we—we’re roaming around in goddamn space.”
Pete slowly floated upward, like some ancient philosopher.
Blindy let out a heavy breath.
“You guys had it good.
Just swimmin’…
eatin’ plankton…
shittin’ wherever you want—”
He tapped the glass, a bit harder this time.
“But nooo… someone just had to be smart an’ decide to crawl onto land.
Why? I mean—WHY EVEN THINK ’BOUT THAT?!”
He sucked in a breath, like he was about to say something smarter—and failed immediately.
“And look now… the entire—the whole goddamn galaxy’s fu—
—screwed. Yeah. Screwed on a cosmic shi—scale.”
Pete released another bubble.
And calmly kept swimming.
Blindy watched him for a few seconds.
Then quietly said:
“Hey…”
He paused, squinting hard—like thinking required physical effort.
“If—if we could rewind all of it…
Like—like boom—an’ we’re back…”
He smirked.
“I’d still keep you. Swear.”
Jackie watched him, trying to figure out
whether she was witnessing brilliance—
or if it was time to run the hell out of there.
For a few seconds, there was silence.
And then Phoenix’s voice came through the speakers—dry and polite:
“Captain…
allow me to make a small correction.”
Blindy didn’t even turn around.
“What now—?”
Phoenix continued calmly:
“Evolution is not a mistake. It is statistically inevitable.”
The statement settled—clean, precise, like the end of a calculation.
“However… observing you—I am beginning to suspect that Pikaia may have taken a wrong turn approximately three to four million years ago.”
Inside the tank, Pete gave a small flick of his tail, made a slow, lazy turn, and continued his eternal circle.
Blindy looked at him…
then up at the ceiling…
and muttered:
“See—see that, Pete?
Even the AI—Rusty thinks you screwed up somewhere. Damn.”
Pete released another bubble.
BLUP
Blindy nodded.
“Sure—sure…
figures you’d admit it…”
And then Dick’s voice crackled in through the Mega RayBanned™ Gen69 smart-glasses earpiece.
“Baby… I see you already made contact with that idiot.”
He let out a loud breath.
“The stream chat’s going completely insane right now.
Memes. Petitions.”
Dick exhaled hard, like even saying it out loud made it worse.
“Even that batshit group…
People for the Ethical Treatment of Aliens.
They’re pushing to bring the worm’s case to the next hearing of the United Galactic Nations.”
His voice dipped lower—tight, uneasy.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Baby, wrap it up over there. Before it gets worse.
I got a bad feeling about this—something’s off.”
Somewhere out there, the Author let out a quiet sigh and muttered:
“Yeah, sure… ‘set it free.'”
He lazily scratched his chin.
“They’ll dump it in the ocean… where the first prehistoric shrimp knockoff eats it in twenty seconds.”
He scratched his chin again, like the thought only got worse the longer he held it.
“Or it just dies anyway, ’cause, you know… the water chemistry’s changed a bit over the last half a billion years.”
He shrugged.
“But hey. Clean conscience.”
Jackie didn’t respond—just gave a quiet huff and turned to Blindy.
“Um… Captain, let’s switch to something else. Shiori said your crew includes two more. Phoenix and Zeros, right?”
Blindy scratched his head, then suddenly barked toward the ceiling:
“Rusty!—hey—reporter lady wants a word with you too—y’hear me?!”
He paused just a fraction, like he realized he might’ve sounded a bit too loud—then waved it off.
“And Zeros… yeah—no… he ain’t much for talkin’. Like—at all.”
He shifted his weight, eyes flicking away for a second.
“And he’s not here. Took off somewhere… as usual.
Consider yourself lucky—honestly—yeah.”
Blindy led Jackie toward the navigation terminal, where Shiori was already standing.
“‘Cause—you’re better off not runnin’ into him anyway,” he muttered, a little quieter now and snorted under his breath. “He’ll ruin your whole damn mood—like—just stand there, stare at ya…
make you feel like you did somethin’ wrong just by breathin’.”
Phoenix’s voice came calmly through the speakers:
“I will be glad to answer any of your questions, Miss Jackie Rho.”
Phoenix continued smoothly:
“What would interest you the most? Would you like—”
His voice cut off abruptly. When it returned, something in it had changed—subtle, but unmistakable.
“Captain… I’ve received a message from the First Officer.”
A fraction of a second passed—too brief to notice, too sharp to ignore.
“He asked me to inform you to prepare.”
The channel held for a moment, as if something unseen was aligning.
“Something is happening in orbit.”