I keep at a sprint, my heart pounding as I nearly upend a fruit stall, ducking left and right whenever the opportunity presents itself.
Then, ahead, I finally spot three separate opportunities for escape. I chose one at random.
Next, it’s time to go crashing through one more set of alleyways and shops, and then finally I’m out. I stagger into the now-quiet streets, and there’s no trace of the ship however overhead.
I’ve done it!
Now I’m no longer Mia, the new addition to the Aurelian harem, with all that entails…
…I’m back to being Mia the thief.
But, more important, nobody knows what I’ve stolen. The Aurelians will be getting the news by now – a report from the white shuttle that something is wrong. They’d have heard from the shuttle’s AI that I’d disappeared, and perhaps even that I’d deliberately ducked out of surveillance.
But it’s too late for them to stop me now.
How long will it be before the three Aurelians figure out the truth? That I’ve betrayed and robbed them? It could be hours, or they might never even do so. Maybe Gallus will notice the missing watches. Maybe he’ll review footage from the manor, if they have the entire house monitored - as I believe they might.
But equally, he might not notice for months, or years, or ever.
Those priceless watches and the piles of credits simply grains of sand in the massive mound of wealth the Aurelians possess.
They’ll find out I’m a thief eventually, though – perhaps when they ask the Deemak authorities to search for me, and my record and past comes to light. I’ve never been caught, but I’ve been identified. Records of my criminal nature exist, even if I can’t be pinned down for anything specific enough to be arrested on sight.
Then, whatever those three amazing, gorgeous aliens had ever felt for me will sour in their righteous Aurelian wrath.
I move from Sector 1 to Sector 2. No one watches you as you’re leaving, though guards will question you as you enter. I’m in the neighborhoods of the upper middle class, where families can afford maids and cooks from the cheap labor force of Deemak. This is where I’ve been earning my keep. I know every street and hideaway. Soon the homes turn into apartment buildings, as I move from the upper crust of the Sector into the middle class residences.
From Sector 2 I cross over into Sector 3, the lower middle-class and working class part of the capital city, and I start to feel more at home. When I make the jump from Sector 2 to 3 I’m back in my familiar grounds. You can see the desperation all around you as people struggle to survive. I’m just glad I chose such a plain dress to make my escape in, because if I was wearing outward signs of wealth – like that sapphire necklace I’d removed when I’d ditched Sarah – I could have been mugged.
Still, I don’t make any eye contact with people as I pass them – although I don’t look away, either. Even shady-looking men can tell I’m not an easy mark by my body language and bold stare. The farther I get away from Sector 2, the worse the homes are.
The slums of Sector 4 soon welcome me, and I slip into their midst as if I’m an abandoned house on the edge of the desert, and this teeming neighborhood are the sands that quickly swallow me up.
It feels almost inevitable, coming back.
I clench my jaw thrice more. It hums, and I know Darr will now be able to see my location temporarily. Fifteen minutes later, I’m ducking down a dirty alleyway, then stepping down cracked, dusty stairs, and finally pushing open the creaking doors to The Stag.
It feels like home – but only because it’s the only home I’ve ever known.
Darr is sitting in the corner, alone. He grins as I enter.
“There you are!” Darr bellows out. “The best fucking thief in this Gods-be-damned bar. You all wouldn’t believe the heist she just pulled off, and if you guess it I’d have to slit your fucking throats!”
The cutthroats and petty thieves turn their heads to look at me, but after a second they turn back to their drinks. I sit down at the table across from Darr, reach into my pockets, and dump the heavy wristwatches into the table.
I push them across the beer-soaked wood towards him.
Darr’s a big man, but he moves like the thief he is - instantly palming the watches and making them disappear into the hidden pockets of his coat like a magician.
“This is our best fucking score yet, kid. You’re going to make a fat cut - a fat cut indeed. We’re going places, kid.”
We’re not going anywhere, except The Stag, if we’re lucky. More likely a jail cell if we’re not.
I don’t say a word, though. Darr’s in a good mood, and that’s a good thing for me. When he’s in a bad mood…
“That was quick,” he looks up at me. “Faster than expected. My fence will be thrilled. Did those bastards give you any trouble?”
I shake my head. “No. No trouble.”
“Good, Good. Even if they had, I knew you could handle it.” He takes a long drink of his beer, then narrows his eyes. “They didn’t touch you, did they? You’re still a virgin?”
I look down, ashamed. I don’t know why, but I feel so powerless around Darr. Maybe it’s because he saved me from a life of starvation and certain imprisonment. Maybe because in a sick, twisted way, he’s the only father I’ve ever known, and it feels disgusting to talk about these things with him. He taught me everything I needed to know – not just to survive, but
