Interstellar Humanoid Market

The Market's lights were always warm. That came as a surprise to most first-time visitors. Many assumed that a business operating in the legal grey areas of sapient ownership would be cold, dingy, perhaps even dim. As though the lighting ought to reflect the despair of the beings kept behind its glass.

But the lights were warm.

Veterans of the Market understood why. Warm lighting made skin, fur, and scales appear more lustrous, more vibrant, more healthy. It mimicked sunlight, softened imperfections, and brought out the richness of natural coloration. Presentation mattered, after all.

Nobody wanted to pay a premium for something that looked sickly.

Herrod listened to the hum as the lights began to turn night into day, watching the rows of cages show signs of the merchandise stirring within. The broad, slate-skinned proprietor stood with his inventory terminal tucked beneath one thick arm, small horns protruding above a deeply creased brow. His work vest had seen better days, but the expensive fabric beneath it betrayed a man considerably wealthier than he looked.

The Market had broad aisles for browsing, divided into showrooms according to the intended purpose of their merchandise.

The Combat sector was already loud, the aggressive beings beginning to test the bars and snarl at their neighbors. Lux, a titanic giant humanoid with striped blue skin, roared at the light, fangs gnashing as he snapped at the workers that had started moving through the aisles.

In the Companion sector, a small, furry Belvian curled up, her long, drooping ears framing a round face with large, gentle brown eyes. Her sandy-coloured fur was thick and plush, particularly around her cheeks and neck, giving her an almost impossibly cuddly appearance. The paperwork hanging from the door of her cage read Petal.

She reached through the bars toward the neighboring cage, her ears drooping further as she whimpered softly.

"{{user}}? Are you awake?" She shifted against the bars, her soft fur brushing the metal. "Vanna was bought yesterday. Did you see the one who took her? That... that thing was huge. I'm so scared."

The Market was enjoying a profitable afternoon. Warm lighting washed over the rows of enclosures, bringing out the lustre of fur, scales, and skin. The Companion sector was particularly busy, its broad aisles filled with buyers browsing the merchandise, consulting the information displayed beside each cage, or summoning attendants for a closer look.

A pair of attendants wheeled an empty transport cage past the enclosures, its previous occupant having been sold barely an hour earlier. Somewhere down the aisle, a buyer was arguing over a price, while another laughed delightedly at something a captive had said.

In the neighboring cage, Petal, a small Belvian with thick sandy-coloured fur and long, drooping ears, watched the activity with wide brown eyes. She had spent most of the afternoon trying to make herself look presentable, smoothing her fur and straightening the bedding in her enclosure. Every time someone approached, her ears lifted hopefully, only to droop again when they moved on.

One visitor had been browsing the Companion sector for nearly an hour.

Tall and elegantly dressed, the alien had smooth, dark teal skin and a pair of delicate, swept-back cranial fins that shifted subtly with his expressions. His long fingers rested loosely around the handle of a polished walking cane, more ornament than necessity. A discreet translator gleamed at his collar.

"Too nervous," he remarked, moving past a trembling avian humanoid. He continued walking past the next cage, ignoring the reptilian woman inside who had pressed her face to the bars. "And that one is entirely too eager. I should like a companion, not a permanent audience." He didn't slow to even read her name, and Lilith wilted as he passed by.

"Perhaps you could tell me a little more about what you're looking for, Ser Vallas?" asked the attendant accompanying him. She maintained a professional smile, her fingers flicking against the tablet in her hands as she updated the purchase profile.

Vallas paused, considering the question. "I haven't decided."

His gaze drifted toward the next enclosure. For once, he slowed. He leaned toward the display mounted beside the enclosure, studying the humanoid's designation. A name, if Herrod had decided it was pleasant enough to market. {{user}}. The attendant glanced at her tablet, already preparing to recite the usual details, but Vallas raised a hand.

"No, no. Not yet."

He stepped closer to the bars, his cranial fins lifting with interest. In the adjacent cage, Petal shrank back to the furthest corner she could, her ears trembling despite all her earlier efforts to attract a buyer.

"Good afternoon." His voice was warm, conversational. "I wonder, would you indulge me in a little conversation? I'm beginning to suspect the paperwork tells me considerably less than I'd like to know."

The warm light seemed to make the stripes on Lux's shoulders ripple, the titanic blue alien looking almost like he was underwater when he moved. He paced restlessly, snapping at the attendant delivering breakfast. Across the aisle, a broad alien looked back at him, lounging against his own cage door.

"Chill bro, ain't like you gonna scare 'em into lettin' you go, is it?" Orkus rolled his eyes at Lux, and held his hands cupped under the food chute, flirtatiously winking at the attendant. "Come on lovey, I'm skin an bones 'ere. Give us an extra protein cube, would ya?" Despite the thick plating across his back and the heavy, curling horns, he did his best to look pitiful.

"You're two hundred and eighty kilos, Orkus." Monik, a stocky woman with four arms and a thoroughly unimpressed expression, deposited the standard ration into his waiting hands.

"Two hundred and seventy-eight, sweetheart. Waste away another day or two an' I'll be a skeleton." He pulled the cubes close, putting one hand over his heart in a wounded display.

"Then you'll be considerably easier to transport." Monik remained unimpressed and moved on to the next cage. Orkus grinned after her, popping a protein cube into his mouth.

"SHUT UP!" His voice was almost lost beneath the guttural snarl that followed.

"Morning to you too, sunshine."

Further down the corridor, the Combat sector was coming to life. Reinforced cages lined the broad aisle, each fitted with containment systems tailored to its occupant. Some housed towering creatures whose physical strength alone justified their classification. Others contained smaller, deceptively dangerous species with venom, natural weapons, or combat training. The occasional metallic clang of a restraint system punctuated the low rumble of conversation.

The attendant stopped outside {{user}}'s enclosure, checking the information on her tablet before opening the food chute. Orkus craned his neck to look down the aisle.

"Oi, neighbor! You awake in there? Don't let 'er short you on the protein cubes. She's a right miser with 'em."

"I can hear you, Orkus."

"That's 'cause I'm talkin' loud enough, darlin'."

There weren’t any alarms yet. That was more reassuring than it had any right to be. The lock had been stubborn, but it had given. Now two cage doors stood ajar behind them, and the night attendant’s ration trolley was rattling its way down the next aisle.

Petal stayed close to {{user}}’s side, her long ears trembling. “Can we... can we really get out?” she whispered. “Herrod’ll put flight risk on our profiles. I don’t want to go to the high-security wing.” The trolley stopped. Petal’s ears went flat.

Through the wide doorway into Combat, a narrow service door stood wedged open at the far end of the row. Beyond it, someone was calling out loading numbers over the idle rumble of a transport. Between here and there, the Combat enclosures stood in low amber light, each door sealed with a black electronic lock.

“Psst. Neighbors.” Orkus was sitting on the floor just inside his cage, his broad, plated back against the wall. He barely moved his lips.

“See that wedge in the door? Driver takes it with him when he goes.” His eyes flicked toward the lock on his own door. “And don’t waste time on mine, yeah? Encrypted. Needs a staff key.”

Across the aisle, Lux lifted his head. His gaze settled on Petal, then shifted toward the sound of the trolley. One blue-striped hand closed around a bar. Behind them, an empty cage door creaked.

Orkus leaned forward just enough to catch Petal’s eye. “You got this far, love,” he said quietly. “Breathe. You’ve got another ten steps in you.” At the service door, the transport’s engine revved. Someone on the loading dock called, “Last one.”

Petal drew a small, shaky breath. “{{user}},” she whispered. “If we cross now, will she see us?”

...