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I joined the elite intel division of the Wanderstar Fleet with high hopes. I expected thrilling investigations, unravelling the mysteries of the cosmos, and tracking down cunning alien criminals. Instead, my round of assignments landed me right back in the familiar territory of surveilling outdoor supermarkets, basically the same grunt work reminiscent of my days as a detective on Earth. It was as if the males of the universe kept insisting I prove myself, despite my existing track record of getting the bad guys locked up.
I released another sigh, my mind drifting into thoughts of boredom. Was this what I had signed up for? A seemingly endless stream of mundane cases, rather than the interstellar intrigue other humans wrote home about? Eh, maybe I should’ve blamed my high expectations on all those sci-fi novels I used to read as a quirky kid.
I had to cut it out. I knew I should have a better attitude than this. How many humans, particularly women, had the opportunity to leave the planet and take a job in another galaxy? Hundreds of other people applied for a position within this new agency division and didn’t make the cut. Even if this wasn’t exactly how I imagined, I wanted this opportunity and could make the most of it.
Besides, I knew I had to give it a chance. After all, it was my last shot at redemption, having left a trail of burned bridges on the force back home in Chicago.
My attention rocketed back to the bustling alien marketplace. I stood amidst the sea of diverse alien people groups. Their differences varied from multiple limbs to flesh tones in shades of bright primary colors. Now where were those thieves?
My com link buzzed, jolting me out of my concentration. "Email alert."
"I told you to be quiet." I made the words into fierce Javorian whispers.
"Switching language setting to Javorian."
"You ridiculous thing." I shook the device on my wrist and glanced at the email alert flashing on the screen. It was from my former boss on Earth, the retired police chief. My heart sank as I glanced at the single sentence in the subject line:Klinn Ustrar escaped.
Crap.
A surge of frustration coursed through me as my eyes fixed on the three little words. Klinn Ustrar was the cunning con artist I spent months pursuing on Earth. With his six-foot-two stature and a physique straight from Mt. Olympus, one would think he’d have trouble hiding. But no, not Klinn.
My old unit invested countless hours and resources into ensuring his capture, and now it all seemed to unravel in an instant. How could this happen?
As soon as the words formed in my mind, I shook my head. I knew exactly how it could happen. That Ventivorian male could sweet talk the savviest of people. Who did he con this time, some sweet old lady who baked a nail file in a loaf of bread? Or one of these younger influencers who needed a big blue alien to help them chase that internet clout?
Not blue. Klinn was teal, and a rather nice tranquil shade of it. Too bad his actions could make anyone’s blood pressure skyrocket.
So did this leave someone else? I made sure Klinn got put into a high security facility on Earth. If he slipped out of there, he had help. My mind bloomed with questions. Who aided his escape? Was he still on Earth? Were people looking to return him to custody?
The email answered none of my questions. The body of it was left blank. My old boss had nothing else to say to me.
At least I got the news of Klinn’s escape before it reached Xaxos’s mainstream media. Images of his smirking teal lips and white teeth went through my head. That cocky con would get a kick out of the trouble he was causing me again, light years away from my home planet, this time.
I hit a button on the com link to temporarily disable the alert feature. As irritating as this news was, I couldn’t afford to let it mess with my current task. I had to compartmentalize. Catch the current thieves now. Gripe and process this news about Klinn later.
I stepped forward, searching for signs of suspicious activity or anyone who appeared out of place. The market's labyrinthine layout presented a challenge. I pushed through the bustling crowds. Klinn's escape added fuel to my determination. If it wasn’t already on intel’s radar back at Wanderstar HQ, I’d inform the Fleet about it. No telling where he was in the universe, but if we could get a lead on his trail, I’d ask for clearance to bring him in. It wasn’t just for my own satisfaction, but to ensure the integrity of the galaxy I’d sworn to protect.
Different beings passed me by. Tall and slender grey Nurtarians brushed shoulders with robust Lorgans, while diminutive Velniks walked about, their expressive large eyes scanning the surroundings.
Soon I identified a Lorgan with furtive glances and concealed hands. His scaled skin blended seamlessly with the vibrant hues of the marketplace. His shifting gaze betrayed his nervousness. His eyes darted when people looked his way. What made him so anxious?
I checked his body language. His movements were sharp and hurried as he shoved past shoppers. I trailed behind him as I pushed deeper into the marketplace. I caught whiffs of Zlarian spice, known for its fiery kick, and the sweet fragrance of Yxtian flowers, reminiscent of earthly jasmine. While the sights and sounds went through my eyes and nose, my eyes roamed the marketplace, taking note of every detail.
Soon I spotted a lone Velnik male in drab tunic and pants staring at the sky. His hands were splayed in his pants pockets, stretching the fabric of his clothes. The Lorgan I was trailing joined up with him. My com link buzzed on my wrist as I stopped behind a stack of crates to hide.
"Status, detective." Agent Nash’s voice sounded in my ear.
"I’m tracking two males." I peeked around the crates to see the two males huddled like a galactic pregame. "Stand by."
I watched as the Lorgan did a cursory glance left and right before withdrawing a small bronze metallic orb from his vest pocket.
I ducked back behind the crates. "They have the orb from the museum."
"We’re tracking your location. Stand by for reinforcements."
"Understood." I kept my position, pretending to be interested in a basket filled with strings of beads. While there, I listened in on their conversation, using my com link to help me translate.
"...ship is clear on the north side..."
