Page 31 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

The Plumevian’s compound eyes glittered. “A dangerous topic, Captain. May I ask why?—”

He broke off as Kara and Rory entered the shop. Thraxar suppressed a sigh—he’d intended to negotiate alone first.

“Guests?” Wren’s voice rose in pitch. “You never bring guests!”

“They are under my protection,” he said, the same words he’d used at the parts shop, but with more steel behind them. “The information, Wren. I know you have it.”

The Plumevian’s gaze darted between them. “Perhaps. For the right price.”

“Name it.”

As they began negotiating, he kept Kara and Rory in his peripheral vision. The boy seemed calmer in the quiet shop, moving slowly along the shelves, examining the eclectic collection of items without touching them.

“The Vedeckians have become more cautious since the Patrol increased inspections in the Cygnus sector,” Wren was saying. “They’ve established new routes through?—”

A soft tinkling sound interrupted him. Thraxar turned to see Rory had discovered a beaded curtain separating the main shop from a back room. The boy was running his fingers down the strands, creating delicate musical notes as the beads clicked together.

“That area is private,” Wren said sharply.

“He’s not causing any harm,” Kara snapped, but she was already moving towards her son.

Before she could reach him, Rory suddenly darted through the curtain, disappearing into the back room.

“Rory!” She rushed after her son. He swore under his breath and immediately followed them. “Stay here, Wren.”

“No! You can’t go back there!” The Plumevian scrambled after them, all six limbs flailing in agitation. “Captain, please! It’s nothing to concern yourself with!”

Ignoring the agitated merchant, he pushed through the beaded curtain, his senses instantly alert. The back room was dimmer than the shop, illuminated only by a single overhead light. Shelves lined the walls, holding objects that appeared more valuable than those in the main shop.

Kara stood frozen in the center of the room. Rory was crouched before something in the corner—something he couldn’t immediately see from his angle.

“What is it?” he asked, moving forward.

“Captain, this is a misunderstanding,” Wren babbled behind him. “Just inventory I’m holding for another trader. Nothing illegal, I assure you!”

He reached Kara’s side and finally saw what had captured Rory’s attention.

A cage.

And inside it, a small figure huddled against the back bars—a child, female, with pale blue skin and large, frightened eyes. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old.

The temperature in his body plummeted, then surged as rage flooded his system. He turned slowly to face Wren, who had backed up against the beaded curtain.

“Explain,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.

“As I said, just holding her for another trader,” Wren’s words tumbled out. “Not my usual business at all. A debt repayment, nothing more. I was going to contact the proper authorities, of course?—”

“Liar.” He took a step towards the Plumevian, and Wren shrank back. “You’re trafficking children now?”

“No! Well, not regularly. This was a special circumstance. All I know about her is that her name is Talia. I was merely facilitating?—”

“You’re selling her,” Kara said, her voice shaking with fury. “A child.”

Rory had seated himself cross-legged before the cage and was humming quietly. The girl watched him with wary curiosity.

“I want her out of that cage,” he told Wren. “Now.”

“Captain, be reasonable. She’s worth a considerable sum?—”

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