Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Stop!”
Someone yells the word in modern Earth language. I ignore it, naturally.
I still have a gun. Several guns, actually. I’m trying not to use them. I don’t want to draw that kind of attention right away.
We’re on a big station, or a planet, or maybe an asteroid. Actually I can’t tell because when you land in a port anywhere in the universe, all you can really see is the port. There’s got to be an atmosphere, because I can see a sky. And there’s got to be enough oxygen, because I haven’t passed out and died without noticing.
I rush through crowds of aliens. This is the first time I’ve ever seen so many non-human persons. They come in a range of shapes, sizes, and textures. They do, however, all seem to share a similar attitude to chaos that happens around them—they ignore it.
I am so relieved to realize that nobody seems to be actively chasing me. The traders have the cargo they thought they did. They’re not out any real product. They are down a few bananas and whatnot, but it’s not worth hunting me down for.
I find a place to hide for a bit, in a narrow alley between two shops. This place has a lot of commerce going on. It also has a lot of aliens who are doing a lot of things they shouldn’t do. Back on Earth, in the floating territories, there are places where the corporates have complete control and there are other nooks and crannies, sometimes a few blocks wide, sometimes independent floating islands owned by the mega-rich or the mega-criminal. They’re not safe, but they are the only places to get away from the ever present surveillance.
This port reminds me of those places. I frequented them often back on Earth. I know what the rules are. Nobody wants trouble, but everybody is looking for it. Everyone is faintly guilty and rebelling against various authorities.
There won’t be any help for me here. I’ll be seen as a commodity to be snatched up sooner or later. If I present myself as weak, they’ll treat me like it. I need to get some money, and I need to align myself with some entities who can help me orient myself to this new reality.
I’m going to have to get a new job. Corporate espionage paid well until I was burned. My employer hung me out to dry with no warning whatsoever. My mind flashes back to my fancy apartment where I lived for months with a white rug that actually stayed white. You need to have a very particular lifestyle to be able to maintain white furnishings. It was definitely a flex, and I was proud of it. I lived like a fucking queen on Earth, and I want to keep doing so here.
When a good hour passes, and I am actually satisfied nobody is coming for me, I start to look for opportunities. There’s a bar across the street from me, thronging with all kinds of aliens. I decide to go there and try to keep my ears open and eyes peeled.
I slip into the bar as quietly as possible. There’s a trick when it comes to espionage. You want to fit in. You want to be the averagest average person that ever averaged. I got really good at that on Earth. It was easier there, because I didn’t stand out among other people. I always made sure my hair was dyed a nondescript dirty blonde so dark it looked brown. I didn’t wear makeup, an act that on its own made me fade into the wallpaper in a lot of men’s eyes.
When I step into this bar, I make sure to do so in the wake of a much larger alien. I know I might stand out just by being a human female, so I just try to keep out of sight. The lights are a lot lower in the bar, and I make for the shadows immediately.
If anybody has noticed me, I haven’t noticed them noticing me. A lot of the languages being spoken here are completely unintelligible to me. That could be a problem. Humans who live on the floating cities all speak the same language, but it’s not galactic.
Fortunately, during the course of my espionage training I was taught a smattering of galactic language, and there are some aliens who are speaking that here. So I just need to listen in for the ones who are clearly interested in conversing outside their species.
I overhear some very strange conversations. They can’t be real. They have to be fucking with me. Or with each other.
“Unicorn infestations are getting out of hand. They’re going to do another cull.” An ethereal-looking alien man with a crown on his head is talking in a slightly slurred tone.
“What do you mean?” His companion responds with an exclamation of absolute shock that pretty much mimics my own response.