Chapter 4 #2
After moving to the table, she placed the blaster atop it and picked up her tactical utility belt.
Its weight was a comfort. Shay secured the belt around her waist and holstered the blaster.
It wasn’t the only weapon she possessed.
The belt—the same one she’d stolen from the azhera—held a wealth of surprises, including an extendable stun baton, a knife hilt that formed a hardlight blade when activated, a small but well stocked first-aid kit, and two sets of deceptively thin but strong automatically activated restraints.
She never left the apartment without it.
She grabbed her oversized hooded jacket and swung it on before opening the door and making her way out into the Undercity.
The Undercity was a place of stark contrasts—deep, inky darkness clashing with bright neon lights and pulsing holograms; the silent, still alleys that flowed off every street like roots from a tree juxtaposed against the bustling cacophony of the crowded walkways; cool air flowing from ventilation systems fighting against the heat of the crowds, locked in perpetual stalemate.
There were more alien species, languages, and scents than Shay could count, more than she could’ve imagined possible—and many of those scents made her wish pregnancy hadn’t sharpened her sense of smell.
But she’d dealt with nonhuman species on Earth, and even though she hadn’t seen a single human face since she’d been kidnapped and sold, this city seemed to share the same attitude prevalent in most large cities she’d visited.
Most of these people were indifferent as they hurried past, acting as though the relatively small terran offering them floppy holographic flyers didn’t exist.
Assholes, the whole bunch of them.
Shay dropped her arm to her side and clutched the stack of flyers to her chest. Her shoulders sagged.
Loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail and fallen from beneath her hood tickled her nose, and she blew them aside with a huff.
After hours of walking up and down this block, her ankles were swollen, her feet were killing her, and her voice was hoarse, but her attempts to be seen and heard had failed miserably.
Why was it harder to get someone to look at a damn flyer than it was to bypass the security system of a high-end store and rob it blind?
Don’t these people understand that I’m trying to do things the legitimate way this time? Give me a break!
If she returned to her boss, Yorgaz, with all these flyers still in her possession at the end of her shift, he’d accuse her of laziness again.
Then he’d launch into a rant about how her only job was to get asses into seats for the show, and if terrans were too stupid to do that, maybe he’d just ban them from his theater.
And Shay would bite her tongue and refrain from telling him that no one, no matter how alien, wanted to go watch trained skrudges—which were scary-looking, rat like animals—do tricks.
Because she needed this job, she needed this fresh, legitimate start.
She needed routine and stability. This was all she had for now.
Once the baby came… Well, she’d figure out which branch to take when she reached that fork in the road.
Squaring her shoulders and setting her features in determination, Shay held a flyer out to the passing aliens. “Come see the Spectacular Skrudge Show!”
A tall, lean, four-armed dacrethian with pale pink skin glanced at her, snatched the flyer from her hand, and tossed it aside, walking on without even looking at it.
“Dick,” Shay said as she retrieved the flyer from the street. She backed away from the thicker foot traffic. “Come see the best trained skrudges in this galactic sector perform the most awe-inspiring tricks!”
The cycle continued on and on. Shay’s feet hurt more with each passing minute, her voice grew hoarser, her stomach was soon growling in hunger, and her frustration climbed to new heights.
When another tall, powerfully built being passed her, Shay decided she’d had enough.
Clearly her tactics weren’t working. She’d have to make them look at her.
Without thinking, Shay reached out, caught the being by his arm—an arm encased in some sort of segmented armor—and gave him a tug. “Hey, check out—”
Her eyes widened as the male turned to face her and she looked up into his intense green eyes. He was an azhera, his dun fur run through with darker patches of brown, and his broad shoulders were at least twice as wide as hers. He was huge—and he was terrifyingly familiar.
His nostrils flared, and his dark lips peeled back to reveal his fangs. His brows fell low. “You.”
This was the azhera who’d taken her from Murgen. Who’d purchased her.
Who she’d robbed.
“Fuck,” Shay breathed.
For what couldn’t have been more than a second or two—but in her mind felt like forever—they stared at each other. Violent criminals had been a part of her life for longer than she cared to admit, but she couldn’t recall having ever seen anyone look as angry and dangerous as this azhera right now.
Angry, dangerous, and kinda hot.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
The azhera eased closer to her. “I’ve been looking for—”
Shay released his arm and threw the stack of flyers in his face. The wobbly plastic pieces broke apart from each other the instant they were free, turning into a cloud of shimmering holographic advertisements that sent the azhera reeling.
Wheeling around, Shay ran. She had no destination, no plan, she just needed to escape.
Even though this was one of the city sectors that seemed to have a very limited presence of peacekeepers, there were too many bystanders here, too many witnesses, for her to draw her blaster and start shooting.
And even though Shay had done some shady stuff in her life, had broken a lot of laws, she’d never killed anyone—and she’d never hurt anyone that didn’t have it coming.
A bestial roar boomed behind her; it was the sort of sound that would’ve made a lion bow its head and scurry for a hiding place. Shay glanced over her shoulder to see the azhera swipe away the last few fluttering flyers. His fur was bristling, and the look of rage on his face had only intensified.
He charged toward her, plowing through the pedestrians in his path like a wrecking ball crashing through a wall.
Her eyes rounded, and her eyebrows rose. “Thaaaaat’s not good.”
Despite her soreness, her weariness, her awkwardness, Shay pushed herself forward with everything she had. The surprise advantage she’d gained with the flyers wouldn’t be enough to save her—she’d have to utilize anything she could to escape him.
And all she really had going for her right now was being a little terran.
Cradling her belly with one hand, she turned toward the center of the street, where the crowd was at its thickest, and plunged directly into the press of bodies.
For once, her size was a boon—being smaller than many of the aliens allowed her to slip through the crowd with relative ease, using them to shield her from the azhera’s view.
She could only hope it’d be enough.
Shay forced her way deeper into the ever-flowing river of alien pedestrians, twisting and turning as best she could to squeeze through the gaps.
Her heart pounded, and her breath was ragged, but she didn’t let herself slow.
If she stopped, that’d be it. Exhaustion would take hold and ensure she didn’t run anymore.
She couldn’t let that happen. Saving her own skin was a great motivation, but it wasn’t her primary drive—not like it had been several months ago. She needed to keep her baby safe. She refused to birth her child into slavery.
The awkwardness of running through a thick crowd resulted in more bumps and touches than she cared for, but she shielded her belly, sparing it from the impacts.
The exasperated words spoken by the aliens she hurried past—sometimes uttered in languages her implanted translator had trouble deciphering—flowed over her like a hot breeze, uncomfortable but ultimately harmless.
She didn’t have the breath to spare for snarky retorts.
A series of near-simultaneous cries and shouts rose from the crowd behind her.
Shay’s heart skipped a beat when those cries were answered by a guttural snarl—a snarl that was much too close. How long would this crowd hold back a very large, very determined, very angry azhera?
Not long enough.
More cries erupted from the pedestrians, drawing steadily closer to Shay.
For an instant, she pictured a slow-burning trail of gunpowder behind her, just like from an old cartoon, the little spark drawing nearer and nearer.
Bad things happened when those sparks reached the character at the end of the line.
Her mind raced as she squeezed between a pair of tall, lanky aliens who were walking side-by-side; the aliens lifted their intertwined hands to glance down at her, opening a path for her to stumble forward.
If only her legs could move as fast as her thoughts.
“Out of the way,” the azhera yelled. He was perhaps as close as ten or fifteen meters, by the sound of it.
There was no question in Shay’s mind—even were she in peak physical condition, she couldn’t outrun him, especially not in the mazelike tunnels and alleyways of the Undercity. Her only hope was to outmaneuver him.
The trams!
She’d used Arthos’s public transportation—which the city provided as a free service—almost every day over the last few weeks. Without a private vehicle at her disposal, the trams were likely her only chance of escaping her pursuer.
Shay turned sharply toward the edge of the street; there was usually more room to maneuver near the shops and vendor stalls along the sides of the road.
When she emerged from the thickest part of the crowd, she paused for only an instant—just long enough to lift her gaze and spot a glowing sign ahead.
The largest letters on it were written in Universal Speech.