Planet Zar: Nexus

Shit, shit, SHIT. This mess was exactly why Cytana avoided meeting contacts in person. They'd seen her face. Cytana didn't want to be in anyone's pocket and now she was skirting Wish Quigley's inescapable net. Teleportation dampeners! Who brings stars-be-damned teleportation dampeners to a brokerage meeting? For kicks, Cytana tried to draw on her psionics, spreading her wings as if that might help her zip between, but the power fizzled into mist. She wasn't out of range yet.

Footsteps thundered behind her. Cytana cursed and swept around a corridor, damning her bobbing luminescent antennae making her a glimmery bright target around all this dull grey. She eyed ducts and doors, hoping to spot somewhere better to hide. They weren't tracking her, right? They wouldn't bring a damn tracer bug, would they?

She had no way to know and no time to figure it out.

"LOADING DOCK" glared blinking green at her as she rounded a corner.

Cytana skittered to a halt, cursing again. Beyond the sign she could already spot the bustle, hundreds of patrons swarming around like termites. Running in there with these assholes on her tail wouldn't be suspicious at all. Years spent keeping her face out of public trouble gone because of one insistent, foolish client.

Voices jumbled down the walkway behind her. Getting closer.

Cytana steeled herself with a gulping breath and skittered into the loading dock. Maybe the myriad hoi palloi would cover her. She was small for a dragon and hunkered beneath the rise of bipedal aliens around her. Her heart hammered, screaming at her to run, but she kept her pace neutral and tried to seem like she had a destination in mind. She needed cover or somewhere bright enough that her own glowing dangles wouldn't give her away.

Cytana chanced a peek over her shoulder, searching for her pursuers, and-

Thud. Pain rankled up her shoulders as she smacked into something solid.

"Woah!" Exclaimed an unfamiliar, masculine voice. The thing - a shipping crate - shifted away easily and Cytana whirled back around to see a strange cycloptic, glowing dragon. "You alright?"

"I'm so sorry!" Cytana replied, dripping politeness. She needed to get out of here, fast. "I'm okay, nothing for it, just-"

An idea flashed into Cytana's mind. This dragon was bright, just as glowy as she herself, and quite a bit larger than her. Much more eye-catching. Maybe...

"Actually I'm not alright at all, but it's nothing you've done." She ducked her head, glancing cautiously over her shoulder, more overt now that she had an audience. "There's some people looking for me, they think I owe them money and they're really not very friendly."

Lies, lots of lies, but ones just messy enough to add credibility.

The cyclops strained his neck to peer over the crowds. His vantage was much better than Cytana's and he must have spotted something, his feathers bristled and his glows brightened just a little. In alarm? Curiosity? He ducked back down and ushered Cytana toward a stack of shipping crates.

"You're little enough you could hide in one of these." He pried open a massive crate brimming with fragile packing peanuts. "It won't be great but you can get it open yourself and I'll let you know when the coast is clear. Do you trust me?"

Absolutely not, and he shouldn't trust her, either.

"Of course!" she clambered into the crate, huddling low in the ocean of peanuts. "What's your name?"

"Quirinus." the cyclops replied with a cheery grin. "You've got telepathy?"

Cytana nodded.

"Just let me know if you've got to get out quick, then." And he lowered the lid to the crate.

Darkness and silence oppressed Cytana, but Quirinus wasn't wrong. The crate was enormous and Cytana fit comfortably as long as her tail and wings were clutched tight to her body. The space between the packing peanuts lit up warm orange from her own glows but she shut her eyes against this and just breathed. She couldn't hear much outside the crate but the steady, ever-present hum of Mwari Station's engines reverberated soothingly even here.

Quiggley's people wouldn't make a scene in front of a big crowd and the loading dock workers would find out real fast if teleportation dampeners were in the area.

Voices mumbled just above Cytana's head. She held her breath and counted her heartbeats. How long had she been in here now? Seconds? Minutes? Time turned into a grey slurry of peanuts and stale air.

The crate creaked open, pouring warm white light across Cytana's face. Quirinus' face popped into view, smiling.

"I think it's safe now," he said. "Some grumpy looking humanoids beelined right toward me but I don't think I was was they were expecting."

Cytana crawled out of the crate, shaking peanuts from her fur.

Quirinus chuckled, bobbing his angler. "Think they thought they'd found you when they saw all my glowies but we've got a few obvious differences." He pointed at his singular eye.

"They're gone?"

"Think so. Huffed off toward the shipyard."

"Thank-you! You're so kind, I don't know how many people would help out a stranger like that."

"Ah, anyone half decent would've. Not a worry."

"Well, you're very kind." Cytana beamed at him. She drew at the pull of  her psionics and felt them crackle back in answer.

Quirinus' cheeks colored a little and her looked away, grinning sheepishly. "Nothing to it. Maybe we'll run into each other again?"

"Under better circumstances," she replied with a tinny laugh. "I've got to go now, before they head back this way."

Quirinus ushered her off with a nod and a flap of his wings. Cytana prowled unhurriedly toward the exit and let the embrace of between snatch her as she reached the corridor. Time for home, safety, and clearing out her contact books of anyone that had ever hinted a need for face-to-face meeting.