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I started to pack.
I’d used my stipend from the Zabrian Empire to purchase a bag to fit my new clothes and some toiletries inside. I tossed everything I owned in all willy nilly, not worrying about wrinkles or folding. The only thing I placed with any real care was my Zabrian landing papers, trying not to crease or tear the document in my haste.
Last came the pan, recently scrubbed clean of any lingering traces of blood. I shoved it in, gritting my teeth as I closed the bag’s zipper. The pan really wasn’t meant to fit in here. But I wasn’t about to leave it behind and I certainly wasn’t going to traipse around the station swinging it with a big smile on my face. With my luck I’d run right into the guy whose nose I’d crushed with it. Might as well put a holographic sign with an arrow above my head flashing, Here she is – the girl who smashed your fucking face in!
Hoisting my bag, made heavy by the pan and strained at its seams, I settled the strap over my shoulder. At the last second, I yanked the zipper open a tiny bit, reaching into the small opening with my forefinger and thumb to fish out a scarf I’d been using to wrap around my hair during sleep. I’d bought it on the station, and it had been a spontaneous decision at the time. With my meager stipend it was a bit of luxury I couldn’t actually afford, the long ribbon of it made from fine Hadorian silk, but I hadn’t been able to refuse it when I’d seen the colour. Cherry red, Mama would have called it. I’d never actually seen a real cherry on Terratribe I. I’d meant to seek out cherries, or at least something cherry-flavoured on Elora Station, but I’d been a little busy with the whole marry-an-alien-to-avoid-getting-murdered thing.
Oh well. I had the scarf, at least. Although I was now starting to regret that beautiful, eye-catching red as I covered my hair and the lower half of my face with it.
I went to the door of my apartment, cast one last look around the place that had been my temporary safe haven here, then left.
My bag bounced heavily against my side, the straps digging into my shoulder, but I barely noticed as I jogged out of the block of apartments and into the main ring of this floor. My eyes snapped back and forth, scanning the crowds for humans who looked like they were on a kill-Cherry mission. There were a lot of humans, though. No chance to actually look at all of them. So I prioritized speed over caution, running to grab one of the shiny round lifts. I took it back to the docking bay floor, theorizing that if the Black Hole Bitch had docked then the human occupants would have already deboarded and would currently be going through Elora Station’s decontamination procedures. That would buy me a little time.
On the docking bay floor, I couldn’t actually see most of the vessels aboard the station, because the majority of them were behind complicated sets of airlocks, closer to the cold bite of outer space than they were to the interior of Elora Station. Most people had to journey to and from their shuttles through sealed tunnels and then inner hallways before they reached the decontamination zone. Here, in this inner area accessible to the main interior of Elora Station, only the smallest vessels were visible. None of them appeared human-made in design, but a glance at the board with its bright letters confirmed that the Black Hole Bitch had indeed docked.
They were here.
Which meant I needed to not be here.
I gripped the straps of my bag with sweaty hands, hot and panting and dying to rip the scarf away from my face but too afraid to actually do it.
Now what?
Now fucking what?
Trying to keep myself from falling into entirely mindless panic, I let my gaze run over the announcement board again. I had no idea what I was searching for – I don’t think I even was looking for something specific – but when I saw Zabria Prinar One in bold, bright letters beside the name of a Zabrian shuttle I knew I’d found it.
There was a small supply shuttle leaving for the Zabrian outpost planet. In six minutes.
It must have been a small vessel, because it was listed as docked in this main bay. I sprinted to the nearest set of stairs, hustling down to the bay floor, all the while wishing furiously inside my own head that they’d have the room – and the willingness – to take me.
My boots slapped against the shining metal of the docking bay floor. There weren’t too many people, human or alien, down here now. Just a few mechanics and pilots here and there, tools and scanners and lasers gripped in appendages of various colours and shapes. I ran past them all, hoping that nobody found my behaviour suspicious enough to warrant a call to station security.
I barely noticed the small, bullet-shaped Zabrian vessel, already loaded onto its dolly bot in preparation for its rolling journey through the airlock mechanisms. It was only when an absolutely massive bipedal alien unfolded itself from some hidden place beside the ship and straightened up almost directly in my path did I come to a shaky stop to take a breath and a better look.
No, not unfolded itself. Himself.
The male absolutely towered at well over seven feet, his broad shoulders taut beneath a silver uniform the same colour as my Zabrian landing papers. The Zabrian seal was outlined in white on his chest, and again on a metal badge on a wide-brimmed white hat. The shape of the hat reminded me of something, but I couldn’t figure out what, and really, did that matter right now?
“You’re-! This is-!” I ripped the scarf away from my mouth and took ragged breaths. My tongue tasted of metal and dust, sticking to the roof of my mouth. “You’re going to Zabria Prinar One?”
The massive male, who hadn’t noticed me until this moment, tensed and turned my way. I jolted and swallowed hard, coming face-to-face for the first time with a male like the one I was supposed to marry.
As far as faces went, it was an intimidating one. Striking, Tasha had called Warden Tenn. Well, I certainly found myself struck by this one. Maybe even stricken.
His face was cut in all hard planes and harsh angles, his jaw wide and firm. His smooth hide was the colour of fresh human blood. For a second, I would have sworn that his eyes were a bright, furious white, but I blinked and then they were dark, narrowed beneath heavy brows. Long black hair did nothing to soften the appearance of that rugged alien face set in its stony expression.
He didn’t greet me or answer my question.
Oh God. Well, he’s not the one I’m marrying, right? Maybe Silar will be friendlier…
I steadied myself and lifted my chin. If I couldn’t even converse with a Zabrian pilot, what hope did I have of winning over my Zabrian husband?
“Zabria Prinar One?” I said, putting on what I hoped was a winsome and not completely desperate-looking smile. “You’re going there? I’d like you to take me with you, please.”
His eyes narrowed even further.
“No outsiders on Prinar One,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “And no females.”
