Page 23 of Alien's Love Child

Jesse materializes from the shadows, pressing her blaster under his chin. "Where's Xander?"

The kid's eyes go wide. "Oh shit."

"Wrong answer." I increase the pressure on his throat. "Try again."

"I can't-- they'll kill me--"

"We'll kill you faster," Jesse says, her voice ice cold. "And unlike them, we're right here."

The kid thrashes in my grip, his voice cracking. "Look, I didn't sign up for this! It was supposed to be a simple grab job!"

"Who do you work for?" Jesse presses the blaster harder under his chin.

"The Lightyear crew, alright? They pay better than the bars--"

A laugh bursts from my throat before I can stop it. "The Lightyear crew? What, did they name themselves after watching old Earth cartoons?"

His face flushes red. "Hey! They're legit! They control half the--"

"Half the playground, maybe."

"You don't know shit about--"

Heavy footsteps echo across the landing pad. Port authority. Their boots splash through puddles, getting closer.

The kid's eyes light up. He takes a deep breath and screams, "Help! They're gonna kill me! Help!"

"Shit." My grip loosens just enough for him to writhe free. He bolts toward the authorities, still yelling his head off.

I grab Jesse's wrist. Her skin burns hot against my palm. "Time to go."

"But--"

"Now." I pull her into the shadows between the ships.

The sound of boots hitting pavement grows louder. A beam of light cuts through the darkness behind us. "Stop! Port Authority!"

Jesse matches my pace as we weave through the maze of ships and cargo containers. Her breath comes in short gasps, butshe doesn't slow down. The rain makes the walkways slick under our feet.

"Over there!" Someone shouts.

A blast of energy sizzles past my ear, leaving an acrid smell in its wake. Jesse stumbles, but I keep her upright, dragging her around another corner.

We burst out of the port and into the neon-lit streets. The rain drums against metal awnings, creating a chaotic symphony with our footsteps. Jesse's hand stays locked in mine as we weave through the evening crowd.

"Move!" I shoulder past a group of Vakutans, their scales gleaming under the street lights.

"This way." Jesse tugs me toward a dingy bar, its holographic sign flickering in and out. The Sweet Spot. Real creative.

Inside, the air reeks of cheap alcohol and sweat. Music pounds through ancient speakers, the bass making my teeth rattle. We dodge around a server carrying a tray of something fluorescent green.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry, coming through!" Jesse shouts over her shoulder.

The kitchen door slams open under my palm. A cook drops his knife, cursing in three different languages as we dash past. The back door gives way to a narrow alley slick with rain and whatever else coats these streets.

We press against the wall, our breaths coming in sharp gasps. The distant shouts of authority fade into the city's ambient noise. My heart pounds against my ribs, but not from the running.

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