Chapter 7 — by M_A_Hartman 

Talált Station was a mess, Hana thought as she and Phili passed through customs. Or, maybe that was because they were forced to go through the tourist section. She'd seen how much cleaner the VIP section was on a vid-screen as they approached customs.

Still, did this section have to be such a dingy, dirty mess for an area that saw such traffic? The creatures and humanoids she saw walking or slithering around were the definition of "rogue"—from their worn clothes in shades of beige or brown, to the weapons' holsters that they openly carried. Thankfully, none of these beings appeared to pay her and Phili any mind as they stepped up to an information kiosk.

A hologram slowly rotated in front of them, displaying the many layers of the station. Hana crossed her arms and tapped her chin as she studied the layout. Most of the board was written in Standard, but there were a few areas tagged in an unfamiliar script. Next to her, Phili let loose a little squeak as a massive alien passed too close to him, its thick brown-green tail swaying as it walked.

"Looking for something specific?" a low, feminine voice with a touch of a purr asked.

Hana flinched and looked up. A female Vraizat, a tall, tawny-colored felinoid, stood next to the information kiosk, a knowing smirk on her muzzle. The Vraizat wore a dark green jumpsuit stained with grease and soot, a heavy silver utility belt hung low on her hips. While her hands were clawed and furred, her feet were covered by heavy boots that at one point in their life may have been bright white, but were now aged and stained. A short, but expressive tufted tail swung behind her.

"Not fluent in Standard, eh?" the Vraizat continued before switching to another language.

Shaking off her surprise, Hana said, "No, I speak Standard."

The Vraizat grinned, showing off an impressive array of sharp fangs. "Good, because my Malosh is terrible." She turned and studied the kiosk. "So, what are we looking for?"

"A ship!" Phili exclaimed proudly, puffing out his chest.

The Vraizat's brow ridges drew together. "Well, that's going to be a problem," she told them, studying the map. "I'd recommend going to Venture or Jlathos if it's a ship you're after. Best thing you can get around here is parts." She patted the utility belt around her waist for emphasis.

Hana and Phili exchanged a look. The Black Widow was long gone and every remaining ooblet between them was precious.

The felinoid laughed, a deep, throaty sound. "Well, it looks as if you're squakked, aren't you?"

Hana frowned, trying not to let the annoyance that was building inside of her to show. The Vraizat might be friendly towards them now, but she had no idea how the female would react if she suddenly became upset.

"Hm," the Vraizat rumbled thoughtfully, turning back toward the kiosk. "I suppose you could try one of the pawn shops, but I doubt you'll find anything larger than a hopper there. Nothing deep-space worthy." She shrugged powerful shoulders, tail-tip swaying idly. "But who knows? You might be surprised. All sorts of crazy things come through Talált." She extended a long black claw and pointed out three areas of the station—two on the level they were currently on and one at the very base of the station. "Might want to stick your pad in there and download the locations."

Hana pursed her lips, not wanting to reveal that they didn't have a pad, but Phili piped up and said, "No worries. I have the locations memorized."

The Vraizat's tufted ears flicked forward and she cocked her head to the side. "Ah, so that's what you are—Shozien. Or half, I should say. It took me a while to figure it out."

Phili beamed.

A communicator crackled to life in the Vraizat's belt. She opened a flap and studied the readout on her device. "Well, you two, it's been a pleasure. Good luck." Nodding her big, furry head, the Vraizat wandered off, disappearing into the crowd.

Hana turned to look at Phili. "Might as well get started with these two," she said, pointing at the map.

Kaktech's Emporium and Llosintho's Pawn Shop did not have what they were looking for. Both shops had products on the shelves, but Hana and Phili were quick to learn that the majority of items were practically brand new—and way out of their budget. That left Cralxaks's Pawn Shop on the lowest level of Talált.

Traipsing through the scum of the station was not something Hana was looking forward to. At least on the upper decks, the inhabitants and consumers of Talált generally avoided them; but as the doors to the elevator opened on the lowest deck, they were instantly met with a group of four thin, scarred aliens who studied them very intently, blocking them from leaving.

Phili sucked in a sharp breath and Hana's heart beat a strong tattoo against her ribs. It was at that moment that a wave of nausea rippled through her and she swallowed suddenly and hard.

The lead thug, a knobby creature with sickly yellowed skin and pale, watery green eyes, placed his three-fingered hand on the door to the elevator and leaned in. Hana winced as a sulfuric odor washed over and clamped a hand over her mouth as bile rose in the back of her throat.

"She don't like the way you smell, Slortak," a shorter alien commented, the lower portion of his jaw splitting open as he talked. A white forked tongue flickered in his black maw.

The lead alien pursed hard lips and glanced over his shoulder. A thin membrane unfurled from the sides of his neck, framing his face. "Seems so," he agreed, turning slowly back around to face Hana and Phili. "Do I smell bad, sloapa?"

Hana swallowed again, fists curling into tight balls at her sides. Phili edged next to her, reaching up to lay a protective hand on the back of her shoulder.

All four aliens broke into raucous laughter. The lead alien reached into the elevator and grabbed Hana by the upper arm, dragging her out. He tossed her against the other wall and reached in to do the same with Phili.

Hana yelped, throwing her arms up to protect her baby bulge. Her forearms hit the cold, rusted metal of the wall, tears springing to her eyes as pain radiated up through her bones to the tips of her fingers. She managed to spin out of the way as Phili crashed up against the wall next to her. Rubbing her aching arms, Hana watched as the thugs laughed and got into the elevator. The short green one made some sort of hand gesture at her as the door closed.

Next to her, Phili sighed, passing a hand through his hair. Hana glanced at him, flexing her fingers to make sure they still worked. "That was ..."

"Scary," the Shozien breathed, using the cuff of one sleeve to wipe his forehead. He glanced down at her midsection. "Did they hit the baby?"

Hana sighed and tipped her head back against the cold metal. Her hands curled around her belly. "No," she replied, relief coating the word. The nausea passed, but her heart still hammered in her chest.

Phili tugged at his sleeves and peered down the filthy hallway. "We better get going."

Hana shook her head, taking slow, deep breaths. "Just give me a moment."

The Shozien watched her until her heart rate returned to normal, concern etched on his grey-blue face. "This is getting dangerous," he remarked as Hana pushed herself off the wall, smoothing back her hair.

She looked at the young Shozien. "I know." Hana tried not to let dark thoughts dominate her consciousness, but the encounter with those aliens had shaken her resolve. All she wanted to do was procure a ship and get off this stupid station. "Let's get going."

Phili nodded reluctantly.

Fittingly enough, the lights in this part of the station were dim, allowing for plenty of shadows to gather in dubious corners. They met few people on the way to the pawn shop; those who did cross their path quickly moved to the opposite side of the hallway, clutching whatever bundles they carried close to their chests, or shoving them beneath long trench coats. A few creatures eyed them with deep suspicion, but Hana kept her gaze locked straight ahead.

Cralxaks's Pawn Shop was marked by a tattered blue and black awning that hung over the entrance. The door hung open, giving Hana and Phili a glimpse into the chaos that lay within. This, Hana thought, was a true pawn shop: dozens of shelves were wedged into the small shop with piles of junk jammed onto the cracked steel boards. Her heart sank as she realized that there was no way a ship of any size—even a small, personal hopper—could fit in here.

Maybe it's docked outside, she thought, gesturing for Phili to follow her inside. The Shozien's white eyes widened, but he trudged in after her.

The shelves were not spaced out equally, so there were some lanes Hana could walk through normally, but when she got to the the next area, she had to turn sideways. Her brain was on overload as she scanned the shelves for anything resembling a command key, but so far, it was all junk: ancient data pads, pipes, comm devices a hundred years out of date. She stopped by one shelf and picked up a faded green object with a rusty dial on its front; some sort of handle sat on top, connected to the base by a curled, frayed cord.

"Huh," Hana muttered, removing what she assumed to be the speaking piece and holding it up to her ear. The cord brushed against the top of her head and slapped her on the shoulder. "So strange." She put it back down next to a flat black sphere with broken, colored lights on its face and a gold-colored globe the size of a ball.

"I'm not seeing any command keys," Phili called out, several shelves down.

"Command keys?" boomed out a voice from the back. Hana started, then eased herself around a series of shelves to see the proprietor emerge from a backroom and pull up to a dented steel desk.

"Yer lookin' for a ship, I take it?" the alien Hana believed to be Cralxaks asked.

Cralxaks, if this was truly him, was a portly, hairless being, whose dark brown skin formed into interlocking plates on his topside and a smooth underbelly. He had a wide, flat face with fleshy pink lips and two stalks that extended from where eye cavities would be on a humanoid. The eyeballs themselves sat atop the stalks and moved independently of each other, one looking at Hana and the other at Phili as the Shozien emerged from the other side of the shop. Rising from the creature's back was a thick, hard spiral shell covered in dents and cracks. Thin black tattoos lined his muscular, but stubby forearms. If he had legs beneath the shell and the worn denim overalls he wore, Hana couldn't see them.

"Like this?" he asked as Hana nodded, pulling out a toy replica of a Curator Mark V Ultra-Speed from beneath his desk.

Hana and Phili looked at each other, at the toy, then up to Cralxaks's wide, flat face. The twin stalks wiggled as the proprietor laughed. "Yer be wantin' a real one, then, aye?"

"Do you have any?" Hana asked, interlocking her fingers in front of her expanding stomach.

The big eyes atop those skinny stalks widened, then hooded. "I just might," Cralxaks said slowly, reaching into the pocket of his overalls to pull out a tablet. He tapped on the pad, then slid it onto the desk. A small hologram shot up from the top projector.

Hana leaned forward. "What is that?"

"Strawberry Mollusk," Cralxaks announced, tapping the pad again, enlarging the image. "Ex-cargo hauler I won off a Jurix in a game of ..." He made a series of clicking sounds that Hana struggled to interpret. Cralxaks shrugged. "Joke was on me, I suppose. Had it for three rotations and no one wants to buy it."

Hana took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. "Is it because it's ..."

"Pink?" Cralxaks's laugh echoed throughout the pawn shop. "You bet yer sweet Human ass, missy." He slapped a stubby hand against the data pad. "No self-respectin' hauler wants any piece of it."

"You could paint it," Phili suggested helpfully.

Cralxaks snorted, although the sound came from a series of vents in his neck rather than where a nose would be on a humanoid. "I want it gone, boy, not waste more ooblets on it."

Hana studied the ship. It had an unorthodox design: a long, missile-like center with a large outer ring running length-wise through the ship, not around it. "Does it still work?" she asked hesitantly, looking up at Cralxaks.

"Engine's good, reliable gravity and oxygen systems," the proprietor replied, folding his stubby arms. "If you want to know if it'll hit deep-space, the answer is yes."

They had no choice, Hana realized. It was either take the ship now or be stuck on this accursed station. She glanced at Phili. As if sensing her intentions, the Shozien lay his right hand on his pocket. Cralxaks's left-facing stalk dipped down, the eyelid narrowing shrewdly.

"How much?" Phili asked.

Cralxaks rattled off a number that caused Hana to grit her teeth. It was far more than the Shozien had on his card. Phili frowned, crossed his arms and shook his head. He came back with a lower number and said, "You want it gone."

The owner blinked one eye, then the other. "I do, but do you know how much it's cost me in docking fees?" He threw back another number, which Phili deftly countered.

Hana watched the two of them go back and forth, tossing numbers and dancing around each other. It was strangely intriguing, this bargaining. At last Cralxaks threw up his hands and said, "Fine." He tapped out a transaction on the pad and reached for the command key beneath his desk as Phili perused the bill of sale.

"What the hell?" Cralxaks muttered, pulling out a small gold-colored sphere. He looked at it and then tossed it behind him, where it landed in a pile of bolts and wires. "Sign here and tap your card there. No refunds," he added sternly, wagging his eye-stalks as Phili's hand hovered over the tablet. "There!" Cralxaks declared, handing over the command key to Hana. "Enjoy yer pink monstrosity. Docking Bay 12, Berth 42." He clapped his hands together. "By Fenja, I'm glad to be rid of it."

"Ownership code?" Hana prompted firmly.

"On his card," Cralxaks replied promptly. "See?" He reached down to pull out something from behind the desk, but came up with the same gold sphere. "Didn't I just ...? Argh." Shaking his head, Cralxaks tossed the sphere behind him, more violently this time. The sphere landed with a heavy crash, sending pipes and wires spilling onto the countertop. "Authorization for Strawberry Mollusk," he said into a small data pad. A stream of code, followed by Phili's name and planet of origin popped up. "See?"

That was enough for Hana. "Thank you," she told the proprietor. Reaching out, she grabbed Phili's hand. "Let's go."

As they left the shop, she heard Cralxaks curse. "Now where did that stupid ball roll to ...?"

This chapter is dedicated to my father.

Semper Fi, Dad.