Page 27 of Alien's Love Child

"And we can make it worth your while," I add, pulling out my PerComm.

The old woman glances between us, then at the door. "They have a warehouse. Three blocks east, behind the Lucky Hand. That's where they take... things they don't want found."

"See? That wasn't so hard." I send her over payment for a sizable purchase, one I don't plan on coming back to get. "Buy yourself something nice."

"And maybe take a vacation," Jesse suggests. "Just until this blows over."

The old woman doesn't need to be told twice. The moment we leave, she closes and locks the door behind us.

"That was…really easy," Jesse says, almost in disbelief her plan worked.

"Gangs on Glimner are dangerous, but they're also sloppy. They get away with so much down here, they start getting inflated egos and start acting in predictable ways."

Jesse nods. "Lucky for us."

"Lucky for Xander."

The warehouse looms ahead, a hulking mass of corroded metal and broken dreams. Jesse points to a window about eight feet up, its glass already partially shattered.

"That's our way in."

I cup my hands to give her a boost. "Ladies first."

"Such a gentleman." She steps into my palms, and I lift her with ease. She's lighter than expected, graceful as she maneuvers through the window frame.

A few seconds later, her hand appears. "Your turn, big guy."

I grab her wrist, using my free hand to find purchase on the wall. My boots scrape against metal as I pull myself up. The remaining glass crunches under my weight.

"Careful," Jesse whispers. "Don't need you bleeding out on me."

Inside, the air hangs thick with dust and mildew. Moonlight filters through holes in the roof, casting strange shadows across stacked crates and forgotten machinery.

We freeze as footsteps echo from somewhere ahead. Two guards pass by, their conversation drifting our way.

"...just another hour till shift change..."

"...better than last week's nightshift..."

Jesse tugs my sleeve, pointing to a metal catwalk above. We climb, staying low and moving slow. The rusty grating threatens to creak with each step.

More voices ahead - different ones. A light spills from beneath a door at the end of the hallway below.

"Keep your voice down," someone inside says. "These walls aren't soundproof."

Jesse and I exchange glances. We creep forward until we're directly above the door, pressing ourselves flat against the catwalk.

"I think it's time you started being honest with us, Dr. Xander," another voice says.

Jesse's fingers brush against mine in the darkness. I squeeze back, both of us holding our breath as we strain to listen.

Through the gaps in the catwalk grating, I watch Xander squirm in his chair. He looks spooked but unharmed. Three men surround him - standard gang muscle in expensive suits trying to look important.

"A bioweapon?" Xander's voice cracks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The tallest thug laughs. "Come on, doc. Alliance security isn't what it used to be. Their systems practically opened the door and invited us in."

"Selective extinction," another adds, circling Xander's chair. "Target any species you want - mammal, plant, whatever. That's worth more than whatever pittance your friends in the Spacers were gonna pay you."

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