Page 3 of Stalker

I walk past without breaking stride. His whispered offers fade into the crowd's chatter.

More signs of decay peek through Silver Gateway's perfect facade. A Vakutan argues with a pawnbroker, all six arms gesturing frantically. Two security officers rough up a Fratvoyan in a side corridor, their voices low and threatening.

The same story plays out on every station, every colony. The rich get richer, the poor get desperate, and those in power - those like Daniels - profit from it all.

A massive holoscreen dominates the far wall, showing Captain Daniels giving some speech about security and prosperity. His gray beard and kind eyes hide the monster beneath. Just like they did twenty years ago.

I keep walking. The revenge I've planned won't help the legless Kiphian or the desperate Death Stick dealer. But it will help me sleep at night.

Or so I hope.

A scream pierces the station's white noise. My steps falter, but I force myself forward. Not my problem. Not my fight. The revenge I've planned needs precision. Stealth. A clear head.

Another scream echoes off the metal walls. The sound strikes something deep in my chest, awakening memories I've spent decades trying to bury.

"No! Please!" The voice carries the same desperate edge my mother's had.

My feet stop moving. Sweat beads on my forehead as I war with myself. The smart play is to walk away. To stick to the shadows until I can reach Daniels.

"Someone help!"

The words hit like physical blows. My mother had begged for help too. Had screamed until plasma fire silenced her forever.

"Damn it." The curse slips through clenched teeth as I spin on my heel.

The alley mouth gapes between two towering structures, swallowing the artificial sunlight. My bone spurs scrape against my shirt as I slip into the darkness. The scent of rotting food and stale air fills my nostrils.

Just this once, I tell myself. One small act of decency before I embrace the monster I need to become. Before I paint these pristine walls with Daniels' blood.

The alley curves ahead, shadows deepening. Another scream guides me forward, closer to the sound that's dragging me back through time. Back to when I was helpless. When I could only watch as others suffered.

Not this time.

CHAPTER 2

MARYSE

My boots slap against the grimy durasteel as I sprint through the narrow alley. The recycled station air burns in my lungs. Behind me, the heavy thud of Grolgath feet grows closer.

"Fresh meat runs fast," one growls in broken Standard.

The sound of their claws scraping metal sends ice down my spine. Dad always said I had more curiosity than sense. Should have listened to him instead of taking this "shortcut."

My compad chirps another useless direction.

"Turn left in twenty meters to reach-"

I hurl it behind me. The satisfying crunch of electronics tells me it hit one of my pursuers.

"Little thief breaks toys!"

The alley branches ahead - left or right? The dim emergency lighting casts everything in blood-red shadows. Both paths look equally dark and terrifying.

"Split up. Corner the meat," the deeper voice commands.

The socket wrench definitely wasn't worth this. What I wouldn't give for station security right now. Or better yet, one of Dad's pulse rifles.

My side cramps as I dodge around a stack of empty cargo containers. The metal walls press in closer, barely wide enough for my shoulders. If the Grolgath are twice as wide as humans...

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