The aliens drag him to a hovering vehicle, its sleek design a stark contrast to the crude architecture of the city. It floats with an eerie grace, waiting to carry my space pirate away from me. As they load Behtu into the vehicle, he clumsily fights back but is easily overpowered by the scaled beast’s rough handling of him.
The door slams shut, cutting him off from my view. Urgency grips me as I watch the car levitate higher, its engines purring softly before propelling forward, carrying Behtu toward the city's heart.
"Damn it," I curse under my breath, frustration sharpening each syllable.
With the car disappearing into the snaking alleyways and towering structures, every second counts. There are scaly aliens milling about everywhere and I don’t exactly blend in with the natives. Armed or not, I need a disguise if I’m going to tail Behtu undetected through the maze-like streets of the city.
I sag onto the floor as the image of that departing car burns into my mind. With every heartbeat reverberating within me, a single purpose resounds; I have to come up with a plan to go after Behtu that doesn’t involve blasting my way through the city. Stealth is the best choice if I don’t want to get us both killed.
One scaly alien saunters toward Behtu’s ship with a robed figure following in his wake. I quickly slip into a narrow compartment near the floor, contorting my body to fit into the cramped space. Afraid to even breathe, I peer through the small vent holes in the door, heart pounding in my chest as the alienand his robed companion board Behtu’s craft and roam the command deck, praying they won't discover me.
The robed figure moves with an eerie grace, its movements fluid beneath the folds of fabric. Beside it, the scaly alien's scales glisten like oil on water, reflecting the soft lighting of the ship. They seem oblivious to my presence, their attention fixed on the consoles and screens that flicker with alien script.
"Wait here," the alien commands, its voice a guttural hiss that cuts through the hum of machinery. With a swish of its tail, it leaves the command deck.
As I study the robed figure, I note it’s about the same height as me. An idea blooms but I must act quickly if I’m gonna pull this off.
Now's my chance!
The robed figure stands alone with its back to me, and head bowed. Silent as a ghost, I slip from my hiding place, heart hammering against my ribs, every sense heightened. My hands tremble, not from fear, but from the electric surge of adrenaline that floods my system.
I unholster my blaster gun and bash the robed figure over the head with the butt of my weapon with a force borne of desperation. The gun’s butt connects with a sickening thud, the force reverberating up my arm. My stomach recoils over my actions. Violence is not in my nature, but these are not natural circumstances.
“Sorry,” I whisper as the figure crumbles. I catch it before it hits the ground, easing it to the floor as gently as possible.
Hastily, I strip the creature of its robe, recoiling at the sight of the gangly, pallid creature beneath the fabric. Its eyes, too large and unblinking, stare up at me, a grotesque portrait of alien life. Repulsion churns in my stomach, but I suppress it as I hoist the unconscious body to my hiding spot and cram it inside before shutting the compartment door.
Donning the robe, the fabric falls heavy around me, concealing my humanity. Clad in this ill-fitting garment, I feel a rush of triumph tinged with revulsion as the stench of the robe invades my sinuses. A blend of oil and decay clings to the fabric like a persistent shadow. The urge to gag is instantaneous, but I force it down.
I squeeze my eyes shut, take shallow breaths through my mouth, and try to imagine the sterile scent of the ER back on Earth. It's a futile attempt, the alien odor is relentless, an assault against my senses. My lungs burn with the effort to hold my breath, battling against the acrid stench of the robe that billows around me. I clench my teeth, swallowing back the bile that rises in my throat.
As I stand there cloaked in my stinky disguise, it’s Behtu's face that flickers behind my eyelids—his glossy blue skin, his snow-white hair, his cocky smirk that never fails to send a lick of heat between my thighs. The thought of him, possibly injured or worse, reignites the fire in my chest. I can't allow my discomfort to hinder me now.
The command deck door swishes open with a hiss and I hear the alien's return. I open my eyes to scales glinting in the artificial light, oblivious to my true nature lurking beneath the stolen robe. I remain statue still.
He clutches a bulging sack, its contents clinking with every step. "Follow," he rasps, and I obey without hesitation. Thankful for the translator plugged into my ear, I can understand his command.
We make our way off the ship as my mind races through scenarios, plotting to find Behtu, to save him from whatever fate awaits. The alien orders me to take the seat in the back of a hovering vehicle waiting nearby. I do as I’m told and we speed toward the metropolis.
The alien city sprawls before me, a labyrinth of shadows cast by towering structures that pierce the sky, a grotesque parody of the glittering spires back home. Floating signs flicker in a script I can't decipher, casting an eerie glow on the slick streets. The air is thick, laced with the scent of overripe fruit and something... charred.
“Carry this and follow,” the alien demands, shoving the bulging sack at me he pilfered from Behtu’s ship. I don’t have any idea what it contains, but it’s light and feels like a bag of poker chips. Whatever’s in here, it belongs to Behtu and if this scaled fuck thinks he’s getting it back, he’s in for a surprise.
I peer through the weave of fabric covering my face and fall in behind the alien as we navigate the darkened alleys. Born and raised in Manhattan, I have a great sense of direction, accustomed to living in a monolithic concrete jungle. I keep my head bowed but my eyes are up and taking note of the skyline, mentally mapping the city.
There are scaly aliens and robed servants everywhere, the city choked with their presence. I couldn’t have lucked into a better disguise. As a servant, no one pays me any mind, and the robe hides my humanity perfectly.
"Did you hear about the Star Maverick, Jurt?" A passing alien stops to chat with the one I follow, his voice tinged with excitement.
“Have I?” Jurt grunts. “I just came from searching the marauder’s ship.”
"General Kragar can barely contain his glee. An execution in the city center—it'll be quite the spectacle."
My heart clenches as I learn they’re planning to kill Behtu. Not if I have anything to say about it. I think about the blaster gun holstered across my chest. It’s so tempting to drop my disguise and blast every one of these scaled fucks to dust, but I cool my jets knowing I must find Behtu first.
"Kaul scum, locked away in the dungeon under the palace," the alien sneers and spits on the ground. "That's where he belongs."
“I am headed there now to meet with General Kragar.” Jurt’s announcement lights me up with a surge of adrenaline. My search for Behtu is over. The enemy is gonna lead me right to him. “Found a sack of rillium on the space pirate’s ship.”
