The Kithari are notoriously tight-lipped about their personal biology, and even after three decades spent in their company we humans aren’t quite sure how long they live, how long it takes the young to mature, or how they reproduce.

And since it’s none of our business, that’s perfectly fine, but I do have one relevant tidbit to share. While I’m not sure how long it takes a Kithari to mature, I have it from a reliable source that their children begin learning to cook when they’re as young as three years old, and I met a Kithari who remembered spying as humans killed each other during the American Civil War.

...The first one, that is, not the unofficial three-week rebellion that sprang up in Texas over high fuel prices in the summer of 2032.

Just imagine! That’s a long time to spend wielding a cleaver and doing dishes. One wonders if they ever get tired of being in the kitchen, but one thing is obvious – the act of eating itself never seems to get old.

-the Interstellar Love of Cooking, Volume One

* * *

The door to the Darking Bog jingled merrily shut behind Dove and I, and my curiosity raged as I wondered what Ahn McConnell had dared to lecture my usually stoic bodyguard about before we left the bar.

“What did she say to you?” I asked as we headed back to the hotel to drop off the pastries Ahn had given us so we could explore the market unencumbered. I was determined to replace the lentils and cumin I’d sacrificed to the group meal on the Diamond Kiss, and I wanted to look for souvenirs. I'd caught a glimpse of a snow globe version of Octavia's dome in a shop window that practically screamed my mom's name.

Dove glanced at me sidelong, a tiny furrow forming between her brows that gave the lie to the determinedly calm expression she'd pasted on her face. “She said if I’m so worried about you I should teach you how to protect yourself.”

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued and more than a little intimidated at the thought. I've never liked conflict and if I had to be honest, I’d rather someone else protect me than have to do it myself, even though I knew it wasn't a good look to say so. It was hard to deny, though, that it would be a useful thing to know. Or it would be if I could overcome my usual reflex to freeze when things went wrong since knowing five ways to incapacitate an enemy wouldn’t help if I was too overwhelmed to use them.

“And? What did you say?”

“That it’s not my job to teach you, it’s my job to protect you. And she – disagreed,” Dove finished, cutting her thought obviously short.

I grabbed her sleeve and pulled her to one side of the empty tunnel that led back to our hotel. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The mood went from playful to deadly in a moment.

“Quiet,” she said curtly, and I was drawing a breath to protest when I heard shouting and a clattering noise coming from the direction of the hotel quarter ahead of us.

I tensed next to Dove, still holding her sleeve as she pressed me against the wall of the tunnel with one hand and reached for her stunner with the other. There was a sound of slapping feet and then a short, skinny pinkish-gray alien rounded the corner and skittered past us, followed moments later by the feathered blue creature I’d seen drinking beer the day before. It moved slowly and had a hitch in its step. The many-legged alien disappeared into the commercial district after casting a glance backward but the feathered person moved with painful slowness.

It stumbled and made a squeaking noise, and without thinking I shoved Dove’s arm aside and stepped forward to steady it with my hand. And that was when the source of the other footsteps entered my view.

It was a group of humans, several clutching signs and others, strangely modified crosses. Some were screaming, and they all looked like the sort of person I’d usually cross the street to avoid. I stared, the pieces of the equation refusing to fit together, while Dove swore and reached uselessly for me, then stepped in front of us and held her stunner straight up, shooting a ray to light the tunnel with an unearthly blue glow.

“Back up,” she shouted in a voice I’d never heard from her before, commanding and so loud it was hard to believe she wasn’t using a mic. “Or I stun every single one of you. What’s the problem?”

The feathered alien had taken my hand gladly enough to save itself from falling but at the sight of its pursuers it struggled to pull away. I looked down and saw dark liquid seeping from a long, deep gash in its leg, then back up at the group of humans and in a flash, everything came together with a painful jolt of clarity.

Their signs read Humans First and Free Space for Exies, and a crude banner reminiscent of the one that had rippled behind my grandmother in her broadcast was draped over a tall man’s chest. For one horrifying moment I froze as my mind ran over the things I could do, should do, and then the unfamiliar feel of the alien’s long-fingered hand in mine broke through it all and I knew that none of those things mattered.

I growled at the crowd, then reached for the alien – who was only a few inches shorter than me, but luckily much thinner and lighter – and hoisted it over my shoulder, ignoring terrified kicks and feathery blows. I turned around toward the commercial district and ran, praying that Dove was as good at her job as her references had promised.

I heard another blast and shouting behind me, and then we were out of the tunnel, my feet a pounding drumbeat as I turned into the broad avenue with its clusters of food stalls down the middle and neat store fronts lining the edges.

It was still early, and most of them were closed. I glanced at the shuttered windows and locked doors as I ran, desperate for a place to hide. I’d run this direction intuitively, expecting to find safety in a crowd of shoppers, but I’d forgotten how quiet the avenue was when Dove and I left the Bog scant minutes before.

Dove, I thought with a feeling like a boulder dropping straight through me as I remembered her standing between us and the mob. I heard a scream behind me and it took all my willpower not to turn, to run back and make sure she was okay. Instead I clutched the alien more firmly – the kicking had stopped but its ragged squeaks were a counterpoint to my short, harsh breaths as I pushed myself forward.

I could make it to the Bog, I told myself as I struggled for breath, but then I heard voices behind me. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw a group of men running toward me, holding their signs in reverse so the handles stuck out like weapons.

I wouldn’t make it to Ahn’s pub, I knew with sudden dread, and I looked frantically around for anything that might serve as a refuge. My eyes skated past a shuttered bookstore, a street sign, a silvery spire poking up over the other buildings. And suddenly I knew where I was, heard Emiliano’s voice telling me to come to the mosque if I needed help.

And boy, did I need help.

I heard footsteps behind me and the angry shouts of my pursuers, and my heart seemed to rise up in my throat as I veered to the left and ran straight for the blue mosque that stood a few buildings away. There was a fountain out front, a pile of shoes, benches where two veiled women sat talking while a toddler played at their feet. And abruptly I knew I’d made a terrible mistake, bringing an angry cultish mob down on a peaceful place of worship.

“Shit shit shit,” I gasped in time with the alien’s panicked squeaks as I bolted straight past the mosque’s tempting doors, then veered down the first alley I saw. Other narrow passageways branched off at intervals and I realized Octavia was a rabbit’s warren once you left the carefully planned wheel of roads that made up the main access routes. I could use that, if only I could keep breathing long enough to avoid keeling over.

A whining alarm blared to life far above as I turned another corner, finding myself in a shadowy passage full of what looked like trash and recycling containers. A service alley? There was an ironwork door set into a tall fence at the end, and I gasped with relief at the thought that if I could just get through it then I could close it behind us and try to hold it shut until help arrived.

Someone called out behind me and I nearly stumbled on an empty soda can as I lunged for the doorknob. I fumbled at it, cursing my sweaty fingers as it refused to turn. Then the truth hit me and I almost wept at the realization that it was locked, that I’d walked right into the worst possible situation, cornered in a hidden alley with no one to see what happened.

I turned and saw movement behind me, knew our pursuers were almost here. The courtyard wall was too high for me to climb, and besides, what would I do with the alien? I winced, all too aware of how fragile their body felt in my arms.

I might survive this, but I doubted they would.

I shook the feathery person urgently, then braced myself next to the wall and clasped my hands under their feet to lift. I might not be able to make it over the wall myself, but with my help they should be able to pull themselves to safety.

“Go,” I begged, “Pull yourself over, you’ve got to go,” not knowing if it could understand me. I felt fumbling at my shoulders and the pressure on my hands increased as they pulled themselves upright, using the wall to brace themselves. Then my burden was abruptly gone and I turned to see the feathered blue form dangling on the other side of the iron bars, then dropping to the ground in a heap.

I turned back to the alley and saw a cluster of men advancing, their steps slowing as they saw that they had me. They still held their protest signs like weapons, and their chests heaved for breath at least as urgently as my own.

“Devil’s gone,” one said in a disgusted tone, and I hoped that the alien had the wits to crawl out of view. I reached into my pockets, feeling around fruitlessly for anything that I might be able to defend myself with, and wished with all my might for Robert and his trusty can of mace.

A tall man in a stained blue jumpsuit spit a gob of saliva at my feet and stepped so close that I could smell his sour breath. “Nasty little alien lover. What’d you do with him, bitch?” he asked while the others formed a semi-circle, blocking my escape.

Too many thoughts flashed through my mind in that moment. Should I pretend to give them what they wanted, act like I didn’t know what was going on, fight back, beg? Would those kids at church have let me go all those years ago if I’d just apologized enough, or would they have enjoyed beating me up all the more once they had that validation? I heard Dove’s voice telling me that sometimes you have to fight, and sometimes – no matter what you do – you get hurt.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and backed into the farthest corner of the alley, my heart racing with the certainty that this was going to be one of those times.