“I’m good. Thanks.”
I don’t want to shoot this guy in the bar. That’s going to draw attention, obviously. So instead, I turn and I walk away. Or Iat least try to. Before I can get a step in, the creature grabs me with a hand that emerges from his fluffy yellow exterior. When I look down, I am being held by a bony, gnarled, surprisingly large appendage with six fingers and a thumb on each side. When I look back up again, the friendly mouth has parted to reveal a maw of razor-sharp teeth that would make any shark or crocodile feel inadequate. I am instantly terrified with the kind of old fear that comes from the rear of the brain, from a time when humans did not inhabit floating cities, but dwelled in caves and had to contend with unknown predators emerging from the dark.
I freeze.
I couldn’t pull my weapon if I wanted to. In the face of true malevolence and predatory hunger, I find myself helpless in a way I’ve never been before. The last higher functioning part of my brain is screaming at me to run, to fight, to do anything, but those old animal regions are exerting full control, telling me that if I stay completely still I might be spared consumption.
“Unhand the lady.”
A shadow falls over the both of us. I can’t see this new alien, because I am still transfixed by the furry bastard.
“She’s mine,” the creature says. “I bought her from the shipment. So you can mind your own business and get back to your friends.”
He’s all fluffy smiles now, and the sounds of the bar are fading back into my consciousness. I didn’t even notice the way they seemed to fade when he held me in his thrall.
“Show me the receipt for her, and I’ll walk away right now,” the newcomer says.
“What are you? Store security? I don’t have to show you shit.”
A blade appears under the creature’s chin. It is held by a scaled hand. A chunk of yellow fur falls away with the mere pressure of its existence there. It’s sharp, probably more than razor sharp.
“Let her go, or I will cut your head off and sell your hide to the tannery to be made into toys for infants of various species,” the newcomer says. His voice has just a hint of menace in it, but for the most part it is chillingly conversational. He makes these threats as if they would just be part of his day.
I feel the grip on my arm loosen and fall away.
“Now leave,” the voice says. “Before I decide to do it anyway.”
The creature has a jumpy sort of gait, I discover, a sideways rocking horse gallop that takes him out of the bar with his head bobbling around on his shoulders, still somehow intact.
“You shouldn’t talk to strangers,” the stranger says to me with no trace of irony whatsoever.
“Thank you,” I reply.
I look up at him for the first time, and see a tall, severe-looking alien man with penetrating eyes and dark hair tied back behind his head. He has scales along the lines of his nose and his hair and his features are much closer to human than whatever I just encountered.
“If you’re looking to sell yourself, there’s an auction tomorrow night,” he says. “But if you are captured before then, that will be the end of it. Humans have no rights here.”
“Why would I sell myself?”
“Have you not come to the stars to breed?”
“No!” I laugh at the notion. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’m here to survive.”
“Oh,” he says, deadpan. “You’re doing a very good job.”
I laugh because I know he’s teasing me.
“Do you have a place to stay? Do you have any money?”
“I’m okay,” I say.
“I saw you come off the ship,” he says. “You were a stowaway. You’ve got what you have on you, and nothing else. Good luck with that. Zeta Station is a harsh, transitory place. Nobody really lives here, and nothing good has ever happened here. Females of most species wouldn’t come here for all the gold in the Illidian Belt.”
I don’t know how much gold is in the Illidian Belt, but I’m guessing it is a lot.
“I guess I’ll hitch another ride,” I say. “You know what would be useful right now?”
“What’s that?” He speaks with the calm indulgence of a man dealing with an irrational little creature. Now I know how my puppy used to feel at the vet.
