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His tail lashed as he frowned at her.

“Unacceptable,” he growled, and stalked out of the galley again.

This time when he returned he was carrying a small medical case, and he knelt next to the table, closer to Rory’s level.

“Every sentient being deserves access to communication,” he stated firmly. “May I provide your son with a standard translator?”

She bit her lip. “It won’t hurt him? He’s sensitive to?—”

“The procedure is quite painless,” he assured her.

She looked at Rory, who was watching Thraxar with his usual solemn intensity. The boy reached out and traced a pattern on Thraxar’s forearm, a gesture of trust that made her decision easier.

“Okay,” she nodded. “But let me explain it to him first.”

She turned to Rory, gently taking his hands. “Rory, Thraxar wants to give you something that will help you understand when people talk. It won’t hurt. Is that okay?”

Rory considered this, then reached up and touched his own ear. He looked at Thraxar, then back at her, and gave a single, definitive nod.

Thraxar gave him a solemn nod and pulled out a device that reminded her far too much of a needle—but he’d promised her it wouldn’t hurt so she took a deep breath and lifted Rory onto her lap.

“We’re ready.”

Thraxar carefully brushed Rory’s hair aside and placed the device behind his ear. There was a soft click but Rory didn’t even flinch.

“It is done.”

Another simple thing—access to language—but one that had been denied to her son out of pure cruelty and indifference.

“Thank you,” she said, the words wholly inadequate, but Thraxar shook his head.

“It is a basic right, not a gift.”

Rory reached up and touched the spot behind his ear again, then smiled—a rare, precious expression that made her heart clench.

“I know, buddy,” she whispered against his hair. “I know.”

Thraxar cleared his throat and indicated the empty bowls.

“Would you like more food?”

“No, but thank you. It was delicious.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“It is not necessary. The ship is designed to be maintained by a single person.”

“Still, I’d feel better if I had some way to help.” She bit her lip. “We’ve already been too much of a burden on you.”

He frowned. “You have been no burden. I offered my assistance.”

“But your food, your supplies?—”

“Are sufficient,” he interrupted.

She gave a reluctant nod, but couldn’t help thinking about the food and fuel that she and Rory were costing him. “I promise I’ll repay you someday.”

“If it makes you feel better to do so, I will accept,” he said, but she could see his skepticism.

“It will,” she said firmly.