Alien Protector’s Mate (Latharian Mate Program #4)

Chapter 6

6

J ade groaned as her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted into the half-light of the maintenance shaft. Every muscle in her body protested as she uncurled from the cramped position she’d fallen asleep in. Stretching was an exercise in pain, and she winced as her joints popped.

Then memories of yesterday hit, and she froze. Shit, what had she done? But then a grin spread over her face. She was hundreds of thousands of miles from Earth and, more importantly, from the Morgans. They couldn’t reach her, and no one here knew who she was. She could start a new life as someone else. Get a job, find somewhere to live. She’d seen enough humans aboard the station since yesterday, so it had to be possible. Right?

Carefully, she eased the hatch of her hiding place open and peered out into the corridor. It sounded like the station was coming to life, the silence that had reigned overnight giving way to the sounds of people going about their business. The corridor was empty so she slipped out, adjusting her cap and hunching her shoulders to maintain her masculine disguise.

Her senses were on high alert as she made her way back to the market. As she walked, the corridors steadily filled up, and she made sure to tuck herself into the throng of people. Where would be the best place to look for work? Her gut instinct was the market. The docking bay would probably want some kind of identification, given the fact they handled cargo, and she couldn’t provide that.

Rounding a corner, her steps faltered. A group of Latharian guards stood at the end of the corridor, their towering forms and leather uniforms impossible to miss. She’d seen them enough on the newsfeeds to know these were imperial warriors.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to start walking again rather than stand there like a rabbit in the headlights and draw attention to herself.

One of the guards glanced in her direction, and she almost lost her nerve. His gaze didn’t settle on her, though, and swept past instead. She let go of the breath she’d been holding and merged, as casually as she could manage, into the flow of foot traffic heading past the guards into the market.

Just another face in the crowd, she thought over and over to keep the panic at bay as she followed the crowd. Nothing to see here. Definitely nothing to see here.

She didn’t stop until she’d put distance between herself and the guards. Looking around, she found herself in a new area she hadn’t seen before. The market was long behind her, and the crowded corridors had given way to wider promenades lined with proper shops and restaurants.

Her eyes widened as she looked up and up, but the ceiling was so far away she couldn’t see it properly. On her left were what looked like hundreds of stories, their balconies looking out through the glass of the opposite wall into space itself.

She’d grown up in the urban sprawl on the edge of the city, so she’d thought she knew what “big” meant, but this… this was something else entirely.

She rounded a corner and gasped softly. The entire bottom floor of… whatever this place was… was a huge open area filled with a series of fountains. She’d never seen anything like it before.

Water danced and swirled, defying gravity and forming intricate shapes in midair. Lights within the fountains shifted through a rainbow of colors, turning the water into liquid jewels. The effect was so mesmerizing that she just stood there, watching it.

Until her stomach growled, reminding her that the single ration bar she’d found in the stolen jacket last night wasn’t enough to keep her going. And she needed to find something to drink as well. Her mouth was dry, her tongue sticking to the roof, and she knew from long experience that while she could go days without food, she definitely needed water. Perhaps she could find a drinking water tap in a bathroom somewhere? This looked like a shopping center, and most of them had bathroom facilities. Didn’t they? She’d never been to one herself, but all the holo-dramas she’d watched definitely had them… or was that high schools? She bit her lip, worrying at the cracked and dry skin there. Yeah, she could be wrong. It could be high schools that had toilets. Perhaps she could sneak into one of the restaurants instead?

But as she watched, a group of feathered aliens approached one of the smaller fountains, and a small stream of water looped through the air to land in a sculpture that looked like a metal leaf. One of them leaned forward to take a drink and she looked around quickly for another leaf. Another was only a few steps away, but she stopped before she reached it. What if it was only meant for the feathered aliens, and using it gave her away somehow?

But as she watched, she saw all sorts of beings use the fountains. Not just the feathered aliens but all types and even, over on the other side of a purple and pink fountain, a Latharian. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and copied the movements she’d seen the others make.

Cool, clear water flowed into her cupped hands. She almost moaned as she brought her hand to her mouth, still looking around to make sure no one was going to tell her off for drinking. The first sip made her gasp. It was sweet and pure, nothing at all like the tepid, chemical-tasting water she was used to. It was delicious. Was this what water was supposed to taste like?

She drank until her stomach ached, and it felt like she was sloshing with water. As she straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, reality reasserted itself. The water might have filled her stomach for now, but that wouldn’t last long. She would be hungry again soon.

Leaving the fountains behind, she made her way back toward the market. The pretty shopping area was nice, but she’d have the same problem finding work there as she would in the docking bay. Someone was bound to want ID that she didn’t have.

She didn’t have to search far for the market. The smells hit her first—meat cooking on hot plates and something achingly sweet that made her mouth water. Her stomach rumbled again.

She found a spot partially hidden behind a decorative column by one stall as she watched the comings and goings of the market. She was going to have to steal again, the guilt settling heavily in her stomach. She didn’t like it, but she was going to have to. It was that or starve.

Then movement caught her eye. A group of Latharian youths made their way through the crowd. At least she thought they were Latharian teens. They were almost as big as the imperial warriors she’d seen, but their gangly limbs and slightly uncoordinated movements spoke of adolescence.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched them. Their clothes were worn and ill-fitting, like hers, which would indicate they were street rats as well. Unlike her, they didn’t cling to the shadows but moved with a purpose, weaving through the throng of shoppers with practiced ease.

She frowned. They didn’t seem to be going anywhere other than in circles around each other and the other shoppers. Then one of them bumped into a well-dressed alien, apologizing profusely. As he stepped away, she caught the flash of something being pocketed. Another youth casually reached out as the first passed a food stall, whatever he’d snagged passed quickly between them.

They were stealing, picking pockets, right there in plain sight.

She’d have been horrified at their audacity if she hadn’t been so fascinated. She watched as they worked their way around the market. They didn’t stick with the same technique twice in a row, switching it and who was involved all the time. Sometimes they worked alone, other times in pairs with one creating a distraction while the other made the grab. Sometimes the mark was a market-goer, sometimes a vendor on a stall. She blinked. They were good, very good. Most of their marks walked away without realizing they’d been robbed.

She studied their movements and the way they carried themselves. It was more than just stealing. It was the way they blended in after the act and became part of the general hustle and bustle of the market. In the shadows, she mimicked their postures, practicing the way they moved their hands and pocketed their loot. She didn’t feel anywhere near confident enough to pick a pocket, so it would have to be a stall.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind her column. Her eyes scanned the market, looking for a suitable target. Then she smiled. Near the edge of the market was a food stall, and the vendor was currently distracted by a heated argument with a customer.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached, convinced that someone would notice her with every step she took closer. But no one paid her any attention. She was just another person in the crowd. No more, no less.

As she drew near the stall, her hand clenched tightly at her side. This was it. Now or never. She took one more step, ready to make her move…

S’aad’s muscles burned as he stepped out of the training hall, sweat cooling on his skin in the station’s recycled air. Pulling his hair down from the tie at the nape of his neck, he shook it out, the honor beads woven into the braids clicking with the movement.

His comm chirped before he was halfway back to his quarters. S’aad tapped it, and his cousin Vaarn’s voice filled his ear.

“S’aad! Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

S’aad snorted. “Nope, just finished beating the trall out of some dummies in training. What’s up?”

Vaarn chuckled. “Really? That’s no way to talk about your training group. But anyway, Sadie and I want you over for dinner to catch up. It’s been too long since we’ve seen your ugly mug.”

The mention of Vaarn’s human mate twisted something in S’aad’s gut. He’d been there when Vaarn had rescued Sadie from pirates and had seen the deep bond that had formed between them. It reminded him of everything he didn’t have, but he pushed the feeling aside. “Of course, I’ll be there. Want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Vaarn paused and then added, “Though Sadie’s got a thing for those Terran pastries lately. If you’re passing the market in the civilian sector, of course.”

“I can do that,” S’aad replied as he checked the location marker painted on the wall of the nearest intersection. “I’m not far from there now. See you tonight.”

The comm disengaged with a click, and he headed toward the station’s market. It didn’t take him long to reach, and he steeled himself as he walked in. He was used to the peace and quiet of the LMP offices and his lab… the market, though, was the complete opposite.

The place was a sensory overload of smells, sounds, and sights. Alien spices burned his nostrils, competing with the stench of unwashed bodies of workers from the docks and the sweet rot of overripe fruit the vendors were desperately trying to get rid of before they were unsellable.

He moved through the crowd quickly, his height giving him an advantage as he scanned the stalls. Pausing at a stall displaying an array of intricate metal sculptures, he admired a piece that resembled a Latharian war cruiser. Made from scraps of metal, the ingenuity of the design and the resourcefulness of the creator impressed him. Looking up, he caught the eye of the vendor, a kalaxian, but before he could ask about the piece, the sounds of commotion behind him caught his attention.

Turning, he found a group of young Lathar males surrounding a small, bird-like alien vendor. The vendor’s feathers quivered, crest erect in fear. Beady eyes darted between the Lathar youths.

They towered over the creature, arm muscles bulging beneath their sleeveless jackets. Leather jackets, but not those of the imperial warriors they were trying to emulate. Sneers twisted their faces, and their eyes glinted with cruel amusement.

“You call this merchandise?” One of them sneered, waving a piece of jewelry. “It’s worth trall. Not even worth selling.”

The vendor’s beak clicked rapidly, its translator struggling to keep up with the stream of panicked chirps and whistles. “Please, honored customers, it’s a rare piece?—”

“I’ll show you rare?—”

“Problem here, boys?” S’aad’s voice cut through the noise, sharp as ice, as he came to stand behind the group.

They turned, their surprise morphing into defiance. The leader, a stocky youth with dark hair, stepped forward.

“Draanth off, old man,” he snarled. “This ain’t your business.”

S’aad’s lips quirked up at the corners. He’d been called worse. “Harassment of station vendors is a serious offense. I suggest you move along before this escalates further.”

The youth’s face twisted with rage. “Who do you think you are? You can’t tell us what to do!” he snarled, reaching for something on his belt.

“Reav, wait!” One of his friends grabbed his arm, stopping his movement as he nodded at the braids in S’aad’s hair. “He ain’t a civilian.”

Reav’s eyes narrowed as S’aad shrugged. He folded his arms over his chest as he waited for the lad to make a decision that could ruin his day. The movement pulled his jacket, revealing the scars across his chest and abdomen.

The group’s demeanor changed immediately. Bravado gave way to uncertainty and then to poorly concealed fear. Reav’s hand dropped away from his belt, and he stepped back.

“We… we was just leaving,” Reav muttered, looking away and not meeting S’aad’s eyes. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The group melted into the crowd, casting wary glances over their shoulders. S’aad watched them go with a shake of his head. Lathar youths acting like common thugs already on the station… what the draanth had things come to?

A grateful chirping drew his attention back to the vendor. “Thank you, honored sir,” it said, trying to bow and keep eye contact with him at the same time. “Those younglings have been causing trouble for many of us for a while now.”

“No problem at all,” S’aad said with a smile. “But be careful. They might be back looking for some payback after being run off.”

“You must be careful too, sir healer!” the vendor chirped, concern in its dark eyes. “They may come after you next.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to shove a knife between my ribs.” He chuckled. “Usually, my patients make the attempt.”

The vendor let out a surprised trill. “Very funny, sir healer! But truly, sir, take care. And thank you again.”

S’aad inclined his head and kept walking through the market. A frown creased his brow as he walked, searching down the pastry stall. A gang operating so boldly on the station already was a real cause for concern—one he couldn’t ignore.

He tapped his comm. “LMP Medical Technician V’Renn to station security chief, please.”

The device chirped, and then a gruff voice answered. “Z’yan here. What can I do for you, Technician V’Renn?”

“Chief,” S’aad paused by a stall to talk. “I’ve just had a run-in with some punk kids in the market. Led by a kid called Reav. I don’t know his clan name, if he or any of them have one. I think they might become trouble if left unchecked.”

Z’yan sighed heavily. “Yeah, Reav and his merry band of draanthic. We’re aware of them.”

S’aad frowned. “If you know about them, why the draanth haven’t you dealt with them? The safety of the station?—”

“Is our top priority,” Z’yan cut him off. “But it’s not that simple, Technician. These boys are orphans from the outer colonies. When they don’t have a home, the damn colonies just ship them off here. They’ve been arriving on every ship. We’re trying to rehabilitate them, not just throw them in the brig.”

S’aad’s jaw clenched. Great, just draanthing great. As if they didn’t have enough trouble keeping the human females safe, now they had hordes of hormonal teens running around the place.

“I get wanting to help, Chief, but we can’t let this slide. What about the human females in the mating program? Their safety comes first, and we can’t just keep them locked up in the LMP sector all the time.”

Silence stretched on the comm, and then Z’yan sighed. “You’re right. We’ll step up patrols in the market and keep a closer eye on Reav’s gang.”

“Thank you,” S’aad said. “The vendors here would appreciate it. V’Renn out.”

He cut the comm and, spotting the pastry stall, headed that way. Standing in front of it, he looked at the assortment and tried to figure out which ones Sadie liked. As he deliberated, movement caught his eye.

For a moment, he thought one of Reav’s gang had come back as a small figure darted between stalls. But then he realized whoever it was, they were too small. It was a human boy, barely in his teens, his clothes hanging off his frame. S’aad watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy approached the pastry stand, his movements casual.

In one smooth motion, the kid’s hand darted out, snagging a pastry and hiding it in his oversized jacket as he turned.

S’aad froze, torn between the healer who recognized desperation and the warrior who knew the law. The boy’s eyes met his before he could decide what to do.

Time slowed. Fear filled the boy’s eyes, and S’aad realized this wasn’t malice like with Reav and his gang. It was survival.

Turning back to the vendor, S’aad reached into his pocket and placed a credit chit on the counter.

“For the boy’s purchase,” he said quietly, tilting his head at the young human as he made his escape. “And a little extra for your trouble.”

The vendor, a portly thrakren with a bushy mustache, looked confused before he spotted the fleeing human. “Right you are, healer.”

S’aad’s jaw tightened as he turned around, but the boy had already vanished into the crowd.

“How long’s he been coming here?” he asked.

The vendor shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. First time I’ve noticed him. But human boys on their own… they don’t stick around. Either they fall in with Reav’s crowd, or they disappear. You understand my meaning?”

S’aad nodded grimly.

“If you see the kid again or others like him, contact me directly.” He transmitted his comm code from his bracer comp with a quick gesture. “Now, how much for a mixed selection of the pastries?”