Page 51 of Alien Attachment
A soft chime from the comm system interrupts our conversation—a message from Vex confirming our meeting time and location. I read it quickly, noting the typical paranoid precautions that mark all communications in places like Obsidian Haven.
“They want to meet in three hours, Sector 12, Level 4,” I report. “The Blue Nova cantina.”
“Public location, multiple exits, civilian traffic for cover,” Jhorn observes approvingly. “Your contact is prudent.”
“Vex is a lot of things, but careless isn’t one of them.” I check my appearance in the small mirror beside the airlock, noting how much I’ve changed in just a few weeks. The stress has sharpened my features, and my eyes carry a wariness that wasn’t there before. “Do I look like someone planning to disappear into the criminal underworld?”
Jhorn studies me with that intense focus he brings to everything, his alien gaze cataloging details I can’t even imagine. “You look like someone who has survived impossible odds and emerged stronger for it,” he says finally. “You look dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” I repeat, testing how the word feels. A month ago, I would have laughed at the description. Now... now it might actually be accurate.
“Dangerous and beautiful,” he adds, his voice dropping to that rougher register that makes my knees weak. “A combination that will serve us well in our new profession.”
The compliment sends heat through me, but it’s the certainty in his voice that really affects me. He sees me as dangerous, as capable, as someone who can handle whatever comes next. After years of feeling like I was barely keeping my head above water, that confidence is intoxicating.
“Alright then,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s go buy ourselves a future.”
We make our way through the station’s corridors, Jhorn’s hooded cloak concealing most of his distinctive features while I navigate the familiar chaos of Obsidian Haven. The place hasn’t changed much—still a maze of shops, cantinas, and questionable businesses catering to the sort of people who prefer to conduct their affairs away from official oversight.
The Blue Nova cantina occupies a corner space in one of the station’s more respectable sectors, though “respectable” is a relative term on Obsidian Haven. The interior is dimly lit and filled with the low murmur of conversations that stop abruptly if anyone gets too close. Perfect for the sort of meeting we’re about to have.
Vex is waiting for us in a corner booth, exactly as I expected. They’re human—or close enough—with the sort of ageless appearance that suggests either good genetics or expensive modifications. Their pale eyes miss nothing as we approach, cataloging Jhorn’s concealed form with professional interest.
“Kaylee,” they greet me with a slight nod. “You look remarkably healthy for someone who’s supposed to be dead.”
“Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated,” I reply, sliding into the booth across from them. Jhorn settles beside me, his presence a solid comfort even through the cloak.
“And this is your... companion?” Vex’s gaze lingers on Jhorn with curiosity rather than concern.
“Partner,” I correct. “And yes, he’s the reason we need to disappear.”
Vex nods as if this explains everything, which it probably does in their line of work. “I have what you requested. Clean identities, employment histories that will stand up to casual scrutiny, credit accounts with enough funding to get you started.”
They slide a data pad across the table, the screen showing two identity profiles. I study them quickly—Karly Dorian and Bastian Vale, freelance logistics specialists with five years of verified employment history and clean legal records.
“Nice work,” I admit, impressed by the thoroughness of the documentation. “What’s the damage?”
“Fifty thousand credits,” Vex replies calmly.
I nearly choke on my drink. “Fifty thousand? That’s highway robbery!”
“It’s the price of disappearing completely from corporate databases,” they correct. “Besides, I understand you recently came into some... unexpected assets.”
My blood runs cold. If Vex knows about our encounter with the bounty hunter, how many other people have figured out we’re not actually dead?
“Don’t look so worried,” Vex continues with what might be amusement. “Your secret is safe. I make it my business to know these things, but I also make it my business to keep quiet about them. Bad for repeat customers if word gets around that I’m indiscreet.”
Relief floods through me, followed quickly by calculation. Fifty thousand credits is a significant portion of what we recovered from the bounty hunter’s accounts, but if it buys us genuine safety...
“Deal,” I say, authorizing the transfer from our secured account.
Vex nods approvingly as the transaction completes. “Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Dorian. Try not to get these identities killed too quickly.”
“We’ll do our best,” I assure them, pocketing the data pad with our new lives encoded on it.
As we leave the cantina, I can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and terror. In the span of an hour, I’ve gone from Kaylee the OOPS courier to Karly Dorian, freelance logistics specialist. It should feel liberating.
Instead, it feels like I’ve just taken the first step off a very high cliff.
