It only took a few dobasches for Zethrid to get hopelessly lost. The muffling heat combined with the chaotic swirl of the marketplace to create a spinning suffocating maze. For awhile she didn't think about it. There was enough to look at without worrying about where she was. She still had at least 3 vargas left to return to the ship. 

And in the meantime there was plenty to see. 

Tinkling chimes swung high above the vendors, their music combining with the strange chirping songs of the flying creatures hiding in the greenery. Wafts of cooking meat and vegetables floated through the humid air. A thousand different languages and dialects were being jabbered back and forth between vendors and customers. Zethrid caught enough to gather that haggling was the primary pastime of Plygar natives. 

She pressed on through the crowd, eyes roving the passing aliens and nose working to distinguish a mixed Galra scent. But the sheer size of the crowd was overwhelming. She caught snatches of Galra only to turn and find a pure blood reclining against their balcony. Regular Galra civilians were common enough here that it was hard to distinguish between racial variations. And looking at the passing aliens was little help either. A hybrid could look like anything! 

Her frustration grew as the novelty of the marketplace faded. It was hot and muggy and crowded. People shoved past her on all sides, apparently not intimidated by her size or race here. Bugs continued to swarm over the crowd, buzzing annoyingly.

She snarled in annoyance, finally ducking into a side alley for some privacy. 

"There's too many people here," she growled into her communicator, swatting a bug as it landed on her. "I can't find anything in this mess."

There was no response from Lotor. 

"Lotor? Are you there?" 

A faint crackle of static was the only reply. 

"Whatever," she muttered, lowering her hand and trying to wipe off some of the sweat. She would just have to make her way back to the ship and they could try again another time. And really, she thought, stepping  back out of the alley, what were the odds of just running into another half breed?

..................................................................................

Half a varga left. 

Zethrid was starting to get skittish as the time dwindled away. She had headed back down the path but couldn't even see the compound walls anymore. The thick trees were blocking everything that wasn't immediately in front of her. Surely the ship wouldn't leave without her. Would they?

Her stomach clenched at the thought of being left on this hot unfamiliar planet. Lotor had gone to the effort to save her from the arena; he wouldn't leave her behind. But the crew would. Without hesitation. 

A small feeling of panic began to blossom as she quickened her pace. She had to get back. 

The communicator crackled uselessly on her wrist. 

The aliens she asked for directions were no help either. One would tell her one direction, but the next would be completely different. She got the distinct feeling she was going in circles, getting further away from the ship with every moment. Her eyes stung from the bright sun and she felt deafened by the constant flood of chatter. This was a mistake! 

A light tap fell on her arm.

Zethrid looked down, annoyed at being touched. 

A colorful, smooth skinned girl met her eyes. A single long tendril stretched over her head and down her back. It almost looked like a ponytail. 

"Hi there! Are you lost?" she asked sweetly. 

"Yes," Zethrid admitted. "Do you know where I can find the refueling outpost for ships?"

"Sure do!" she grinned, flashing a pair of white fangs. 

"Where?"

"I can take you there if you want," she offered. "I know a shortcut."

Zethrid nodded and the girl beamed. 

"Follow me!" 

She darted away through the crowd. Zethrid hurried to keep up with the nimble alien. Luckily her bright orangey-pink skin and colorful markings made her easy to see. They raced down the packed street, her guide slipping easily through gaps in the crowd, Zethrid simply pushing obstacles aside. 

"This way!" she chimed, sliding down a side alley. 

Zethrid followed her. It was quieter and darker here, with cloth awnings filtering out the harsh sunlight overhead. Zethrid slowed as she entered the space, trying to catch her breath. She looked around for her guide in the narrow alley. Nothing. 

"Are you here?" she called, a creeping feeling of unease starting to build. 

An invisible force suddenly hooked one of her feet. Too startled to defend herself, Zethrid fell flat on her back, head knocking into the dirty ground. She blinked away the pain and tried to push herself up again. 

But a weight descended on her chest, blocking her attempts to sit up in the small alley. A moment later the colorful alien materialized out of thin air, her blue and yellow eyes sly and playful.

"Whoopsie," she giggled. "You need to be more careful about following strangers. Didn't anyone tell you that?"

"Get off me," Zethrid growled through clenched teeth. 

"But I want payment for my hard work," she pouted, hands swooping down to Zethrid's belt. She pulled out her long dagger, eyes sparkling. 

"Oooo! This is pretty," she admired. "Might be worth taking you the rest of the way to the outpost."

"Give it back," Zethrid hissed, a dangerous rage building inside of her. 

"Or what?" the girl teased, holding the knife up to her face to admire her reflection. 

"I'll-"

She stopped abruptly, nose twitching. It was unmistakable now that they were away from the crowd. This girl had a Galra scent to her. Zethrid thought fast. She still needed to get to the ship, and this girl seemed to know the way. She could knock her out now... but might end up stranded on this planet. Thinking fast Zethrid said,

"If you get me to my ship I can pay you 5,000 gac."

This did not seem to be what the half Galra was expecting. Her mouth dropped open slightly in surprise and her eyes widened. But a moment later she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

"Wait a minute. How do I know you can pay that much? Whose ship are you with?"

Not being able to think of a good lie, she replied, "Prince Lotor's cruiser."

"Hm... No way. No one has seen him here in years. But I did hear there was a Galra cruiser coming in for maintenance today."

"That's him!"

"Sure it is. You know what, I'm going to keep this knife, but I'll take you to the outpost anyway. If nothing else I want to see this cruiser everyone's been talking about."

She got off of Zethrid, allowing her to pull herself to her feet. 

"Come on then. Let this be a lesson to you to be more careful in the future fluffy."

She darted out of the alley, followed by a fuming and revenge minded Zethrid. A few dobasches later the outpost walls emerged over the trees. Zethrid checked her watch nervously. Not long left before the ship was supposed to leave. She followed her colorful guide all the way to the edge of the landing pad. There they stopped huddled by the treeline.

"So where's this prince of yours?" she asked, eyes scanning the ships. 

"His ship is right over... there," Zethrid snarled, grabbing hold of the smaller girl. She began writhing like an angry eel. Zethrid gripped harder, fighting her old gladiator instincts to grab the head and yank. Instead she maneuvered the girl into a choke hold, strong arms pressed tight against her throat. She struggled fiercely, clawed hands raking at Zethrid's arms and hands. her breaths were shallow and choked. It was long time before she finally went limp, eyes half open. 

Zethrid slung the girl over her shoulder and hurried toward the cruiser, desperately hoping no one was watching. They flew inside and she raced to her room. The crew couldn't know about the newcomer until they were back into space.

She dumped the limp alien unceremoniously onto her bed and shut the door, panting in the cool clean air of the ship. 

Lotor is not going to be happy about this she thought wryly, eyes on the unconscious hybrid.