Chapter 3
Cristox
The market sprawled across the central plaza, all color and motion and noise. The sun cast dancing shadows between the stalls, highlighting the mingled scents of a dozen different cuisines and the cheerful chaos of bartering in a babel of languages.
I wove through the crowd, nodding to the familiar faces of those I remembered from previous visits to the planet.
Ida Simpkins sat in her usual spot near the eastern edge, her gnarled hands clicking away with knitting needles as she added to her growing pile of scarves, hats, and even a few sweaters despite the perpetual warmth of Tau Ceti's climate.
I'd bought three scarves from her already—none of which I needed.
The scents wafting from Max Dooley's smoked meat stand made my mouth water.
He'd set up shop near the center of the plaza, and the line at his stall never seemed to shrink.
Max had been something called a pitmaster back on Earth, and he'd adapted his craft to the local livestock with impressive results.
The rich, savory smoke curled through the air, mixing with the sweeter aromas from the fruit vendors and the sharp tang of fermented vegetables.
Dozens of citizens set up shops, each with their specialized wares or food to sell.
Tau Ceti was mostly agricultural. The soil here was rich, the growing season nearly year-round, so the market overflowed with produce.
Humans were a creative sort. Yuki's pottery, Martinez's hand-tooled leather goods, the Bullard family's honey and preserves.
It was a functioning economy, small but growing, built by beings, both human and others, who'd been given a second chance.
Near the fountain, I spotted Craig helping a man stack vegetables at his stall and raised a hand in greeting. Craig grinned and waved back, his face crinkling with good humor.
"Cristox!"
I turned to see Mei threading toward me through the press of bodies, Bartholomeus trailing behind with their two children clinging to his hands.
Little Lingse had her mother's dark eyes and her father's serious expression, while Cuietsu craned his long neck to stare at everything with unabashed wonder.
"Mei, Bartholomeus." I clasped hands with them both, then crouched to eye level with the kids. "And how are my favorite troublemakers?"
Lingse giggled. Cuietsu hid behind his father's leg.
"How are the humans settling in?" I asked as I straightened. I'd seen a couple of faces I recognized this morning, though not many.
"Better than I expected, honestly," Mei said as I fell into step beside her.
She moved toward a fabric stall while Bartholomeus steered the children toward a toy vendor nearby.
"It's only been a few days, but they're adapting.
A couple have already found work. One's apprenticing with a mechanic, another's helping out at the school. "
"That's wonderful." I meant it.
I thought of the holding cell where we'd found them.
The stench of unwashed bodies and waste, the dim emergency lighting barely cutting through the darkness, the way they'd huddled together like frightened animals.
Some had been there for weeks. Others, months.
The slavers had kept them starved and beaten—the psychological scars ran deep.
And there had been others who hadn't made it at all, who we'd found too late.
Mei's smile was genuine, warm, and a little sad. She fingered a bolt of deep blue cloth, testing its weight. "It's always hardest the first few weeks. Everything is so strange and new."
"I remember." I’d never been abducted or enslaved like humans, but I did remember the way I'd felt coming out of the gladiator pits.
It had taken weeks before I could eat a meal without feeling sick.
Months before I stopped checking exits in every room, longer before I could sleep through the night without nightmares.
I still had bad days. Still woke up sometimes with my heart racing, convinced I could hear the arena gates opening.
Thankfully though, mostly I just dreamed of her.
Mei glanced at me sidelong, and something in her expression made me wary. "Speaking of new arrivals... Charlene has been asking about you."
I groaned, long and heartfelt. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I was." Mei's lips twitched with barely suppressed amusement. "She cornered me yesterday at the community center. Wanted to know how long you were staying."
"Ancestors preserve me." I dragged my hand down my face.
"She's determined, I'll give her that." Mei selected the blue fabric and moved on to examine some ceramic bowls. "Don't worry, I'll keep her occupied until you leave."
"You're a saint. I owe you."
"Yes, you do." Mei grinned at me. "Now go enjoy your market day before she spots you. I saw her near the spice vendors about ten minutes ago."
I didn't need to be told twice. I clasped Mei's shoulder in thanks, waved to Bartholomeus and the kids, and melted back into the crowd, angling away from the spice vendors and toward the eastern edge of the market.
I'd made it maybe thirty meters when I spotted Lula's stand—a cheerful setup draped in colorful cloth, displaying an array of vegetables, fruit, jams, eggs, meats, and what looked like hand-carved wooden toys.
Lula herself stood behind the table, her face breaking into a wide smile when she caught sight of me.
A tall, dark-haired man stood beside her, arranging jars with methodical care.
"Cristox!" Lula called out, waving me over. "There you are! I was hoping you'd come by."
I couldn't help but smile. "Lula. Good to see you."
She poked the man at her side in the ribs. "This is my husband, Buck. Buck, meet Cristox. He's with the Alliance and brought the new arrivals."
"Nice to meet you, Cristox." He stuck out his hand in the Earth gesture of greeting.
"You as well." I clasped his hand and gave it a firm shake.
"Still in one piece, I see." Lula's eyes sparkled with mischief.
I winced. "So far, so good."
Lula chuckled, a musical sound. "Charlene's not exactly subtle."
"She's relentless," I admitted. "Thank you again for the rescue the other day. I owe you."
Lula waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. That woman needs to learn that no means no, not try harder. Besides, watching you try to politely extract yourself was the most entertainment I've had all week."
"Glad I could provide amusement," I said dryly.
"Oh, don't be like that." Lula reached across the table and patted my arm. "You handled it well. Most men would've been rude about it. You've got manners, even when you're terrified."
"I wasn't terrified," I protested weakly.
Lula snorted. "You looked like a man facing down a firing squad."
Before I could defend myself further, a tall, thin figure darted out from behind the stand. A youngling, maybe in his teen years, with distinctive lavender skin and ridge patterned markings. He skidded to a stop beside Lula, eyeing me warily.
Lula's expression softened as she looked down at him. "Cristox, this is our son, Fred."
Fred. A decidedly human name for a child who was plainly Ardesian, from the delicate ridges along his temples to the faint iridescence in his dark eyes. He looked up at me with the kind of open curiosity only the young possess.
"Hi," Fred said, then stuck out his hand.
"Nice to meet you." I reciprocated the handshake.
"We adopted Fred almost two years ago," Lula explained, her voice taking on a quieter tone. "He was rescued from a Gliese mining moon."
My chest tightened. I knew about Gliese mining operations. Brutal, exploitative, using whatever labor they could get their hands on—including children. "I'm glad you found each other."
"We are too." Buck's hand settled on Fred's shoulder, protective and gentle. "Best thing that ever happened to us."
Fred looked up at me with sudden intensity. "Are you really from a spaceship? A big one?"
"I am," I confirmed. "The Historia. She's an Alliance vessel."
His eyes went wide. "An Alliance ship?"
"Yes." I smiled despite myself.
"I want to be an Alliance guard when I grow up," Fred announced with the absolute certainty of youthful dreams. "I want to travel on a spaceship and see all the different worlds and protect people."
Something warm unfurled in my chest. "That's a good dream to have."
"Will you tell me about it?" Fred asked eagerly. "About the Historia and what it's like to travel in space?"
I glanced up at Lula and Buck, who were watching with matching expressions of hope and affection. "I'd be happy to," I said. "If your parents don't mind."
"Mind?" Lula laughed. "We'd be delighted. Why don't you come to dinner at the farm next week? Fred would love to hear your stories, and I make a mean roasted root vegetable stew."
"The best in the settlement," Buck added. "And I've got a new batch of amber ale."
The invitation settled over me like a warm blanket.
This was what I'd been fighting for, wasn't it?
All those years working for Asad intelligence and my time on the Historia was for this.
Families like this. Younglings like Fred who could dream about futures instead of just surviving. "I'd love to come. Thank you."
"Excellent!" Lula clapped her hands together. "I'll comm you next week. We're just past the northern fields, the farmhouse with the blue shutters."
"I'll be there," I promised, then looked back at Fred. "And I'll tell you all about life on the Historia. Deal?"
"Deal!" Fred practically vibrated with excitement.
I straightened, feeling lighter than I had in days.
As I said my goodbyes and moved back into the market crowd, I felt a sudden prickling at the back of my neck.
Not the warning sensation I'd learned to associate with danger—or Charlene—but something different.
Something that made me pause and glance around.