Page 13 of Alien Protector's Mate

Banners hung between the containers’ roofs, fluttering softly in the breeze from the huge air vents high up on the corridor walls. The heat from so many bodies packed together was stifling, even with them.

She moved deeper into the market, the crowd thickening, and she found herself shoulder to shoulder with all manner ofbeings. A large alien with shimmering green skin brushed past her, and her heart leaped as she spotted the personal camera on his shoulder. Ducking automatically, she pulled her cap down to shield her face in case he had anything to do with station security. She couldn’t afford to stand out any more than she had to.

He walked off without any alarms being raised. She breathed a sigh of relief and kept walking.

The alleyways between the stacked container shops were full of stalls. One overflowed into the next, filled with goods ranging from shimmering trinkets to pungent spices piled high in sacks. Her eyes darted from stall to stall, taking in the vibrant colors and stalls crammed with fruit, colorful tech gadgets, and strange alien artifacts whose purpose she couldn’t begin to fathom.

It was like being in a dream. Alien merchants of all sizes and shapes hawked their wares, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. She turned the next corner, her gaze falling on a group of rugged aliens laughing between themselves as they ate roasted meat from long skewers. The aroma wafted toward her, and her stomach tightened, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since… she frowned as she tried to remember. Was it this morning or yesterday? It could have been either. She’d been saving her nutri-blocks since she’d been old enough to realize that the Morgans wouldn’t buy her more if she ran out, so the days tended to run together.

She paused at a stall, her mouth watering at the sight of the colorful fruit laid out. At least these she could identify. They were all from Earth. The vendor, a four-armed creature with bright purple skin and more eyes than she could count, didn’t pause its conversation with a customer as it rolled an eye on the side of its neck toward her.

No luck there, then.

She sighed as she turned away. She needed food but not enough to get caught and sent home. Besides, she didn’t just need food. She also needed something to keep her warm and help her blend in here. Even though it was almost too warm in the market, the thick air difficult to breathe and sweat beading under her hat, her escape from the loading bay had been the opposite. She hadn’t realized how cold space stations could be until then. One thing was for sure. Her jacket was way too thin to keep her warm, and the high-vis vest would only attract attention.

She walked along the line of stalls, idly looking from one to the next and making it seem like she was just here to kill time rather than desperately searching for something that wouldn’t draw attention to her and her mismatched appearance.

A small stall tucked between two tech stalls caught her eye. Draped in rich, flowing fabrics that shimmered under the overhead lights, it was an explosion of color in all the grey of the tech. The merchant, a large, somewhat round alien with bright orange skin and a pink feathered mohawk, showed off garments tailored for those with more limbs than she had to anyone even remotely looking his way. She edged closer, fascinated. There were also dresses with extra sleeves that caught the air like ribbons, some odd pants with extra legs, and tunics split at the back. She frowned. What use were those to anyone? Her question was answered as two aliens walked up to the stall. Her eyes widened. Of course, they had wings. That was what the splits were for!

Shaking her head, she continued, pausing at a stall further on. This one had no fancy silks or ribbons. Instead, armor and rugged tactical gear lined the shelves. Each piece looked far too heavy, bulky, or downright alien for her. She brushed her fingers over a shimmering breastplate, trying to figure out theproportions. It had way more abs than it should have, and she wondered what kind of alien would wear it.

She fought her rising frustration as she pushed on, keeping her head down. She avoided eye contact, aware of how different she was from everyone else. Even her clothes, threadbare and ill-fitting, did nothing to help her blend in. They all but screamed “human.” The only good thing they did was hide the fact she was female.

Then something caught her eye. Another clothes stall sat at the edge of the crowd, and she slowed her pace, taking a step closer to the vibrant display. Though most of the garments were as bizarre as the first stall, a single rack at the back was different from the others.

Clothes of various sizes were draped haphazardly on it, some stained and discolored but still unmistakably human. A faded denim jacket caught her eye, its fabric worn, and a memory surfaced. Jared had once had a denim jacket like that. He’d been wearing it the last time she’d seen him alive, the day Mr. Morgan had taken him to the doctor. She’d never seen him again. He hadn’t even been ill.

She glanced around quickly. No one was watching. The aliens in the crowd flowing around her were too absorbed in their business. She stepped forward and reached out to stroke the fabric of the jacket, feeling the texture beneath her fingertips.

But then she hesitated for a second, looking around. What if it was a trap? But the vendor wasn’t paying any attention to her, leaning on a nearby stall as he chatted with the alien woman behind it. From the looks of it, he was flirting.

She bit her lip, looking at the jacket again. It was fleece-lined and looked warm. But what if the seller saw her take it… chased after her? What if they called the authorities? Where would she be?

Shoving the thought from her mind, she glanced over her shoulder again at the vendor. Still not looking. In one swift motion, she yanked the jacket off the hanger and tucked it under her arm, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

“Raaf!” a gravelly voice called from behind her. “Ilk tem sazniz! Nath tiv tol!”

She didn’t wait to see if the shouting was about her. Instead, she ran, dodging between bodies and stalls, the stolen jacket clutched tightly to her chest. She didn’t stop until she was well clear of the marketplace, her lungs burning and her legs trembling with exertion as she slowed down. She tried to look normal and like she wasn’t running from anything.

She unfolded the jacket and wrapped it around herself. The next step was to find a place to hide and figure out what she was going to do next.

A group of Lathar strode down the corridor, their heavy boots echoing on the metal floor, and she ducked behind some nearby crates. The noise of their conversation washed over her, and she quickly stifled her breath, pressing her back against the cold metal of the crate. The guards passed by without a glance in her direction, but the near miss sent a fresh surge of fear through her veins.

She had to find somewhere to hide.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she squeezed between the crates to peer into the wider corridor, her eyes darting as she weighed her options. To her left was the corridor back to the marketplace. Yeah, she couldn’t go that way. She looked the other way. The corridor branched out into a series of dimly lit alleyways.

A loud shout pierced the air somewhere behind her, and she stiffened. Shit. They’d found her. Panic clawed at her as she stepped back and ducked around the corner of the crates, her heart thundering as she looked around wildly.

She had to get away, but how?

Her eyes landed on a narrow hatch set into the wall, partially hidden behind some crates. The sign above it was in an alien script, but a symbol in the shape of a spanner above it was clear enough—a maintenance hatch.

Racing toward it, she yanked it open and squeezed inside. The space beyond was cramped and dimly lit, filled with pipes and conduits that snaked overhead like a maze. She didn’t care, curling herself into a small ball to reach back and close the hatch behind her.

The sounds of pursuit—shouts along with the thud of heavy boots on metal—cut in half. An angry voice shouted something, but she couldn’t understand it. She held her breath, every instinct screaming at her to keep quiet, to stay hidden.

Clenching her fists, she squeezed her eyes shut. If they found her…

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