Risdaverse Tales (Four Novellas In One)

She gives me a brilliant smile, so full of appreciation for a keffing piece of scum like me that I feel unworthy. “I’ll go to the general store and pick up a few supplies while you do that.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if it’s safe for her to go about alone. For all that this is a farming planet, this port is just like any other port on the fringes of the universe—filled with seedy lowlifes and dangerous types. It’s a stupid question, though. She got around on Risda without me in the past. She’ll get around without me in the future.

I hate how much that thought bothers me, though.

I watch her until she goes into the store, and head toward the tavern. Port here on Risda isn’t more than a few private shipping yards, one general shipping lane open to the public, and a long row of shops that cater to the few people that live out here. There’s only one tavern, which means it sees a lot of the local sticks games and every male that’s looking for shady work passes through. I’ve been here several times myself in the last few months, and I mentally go through the list of the regulars. None of them are right for someone as delicate-yet-strong as Piper. She needs someone with a gentle hand but a fierce demeanor. She needs someone that will support her and care for her. That will take the time to touch her in the way that makes those dark eyes go soft—

I growl as I stand in front of the automated door. The barkeep looks at me oddly and then goes back to wiping down the counter. There’s a familiar male at one of the few tables, but he’s not right for her. From what I know of his species, females are not equal. I don’t want anyone taking a single bit of Piper’s freedom away from her. The barkeep will know more, though. Maybe he’ll know someone that fits the bill and is willing to marry a human in a hurry. Even so, I can’t bring myself to go inside and ask. Not yet.

I turn and glance down the winding one-lane street of the port as an air-sled with a loud fan rumbles past. It blocks my view of the general store, but when it finally moves past, I see there’s a big, all-too-familiar form lurking outside the store. A praxiian, judging by the cheek tufts, pointed ears, and the enormous, slightly hunched shoulders. His tail flicks back and forth in a predatory way, and he stares inside at…something.

I know it’s Piper.

My Piper.

I growl again, louder, and even though I’m not close nearby, the praxiian looks up and glances in my direction. He walks away down the street, as if he’s just window-shopping, but I know he was watching her. I absolutely keffing know it and it makes my senses prickle. As I storm toward the store, he walks away, heading into a drone repair shop nearby. I pause in front of the store, cross my arms and glare menacingly, doing my best to look protective and fierce. Didn’t Piper say a praxiian was bothering her?

I glance inside the store. It’s got a few random customers inside, and Piper waits at one end of the counter as the shopkeeper talks to a mesakkah farmer. They both laugh as if sharing a joke, and then the farmer heads out. The shopkeeper looks over at Piper, who’s waiting patiently, and his lip curls. He avoids her and goes over to another customer instead, striking up a conversation.

I bristle. Does everyone on this planet treat her like garbage? It hits me then—she won’t leave because it’s not just this planet. It’s absolutely everywhere in the universe. No one respects humans. They’re playthings. Illegal playthings. I shouldn’t be surprised that he treats her like a stray beast, because in his eyes, she’s nothing. A nuisance.

I glare through the window as the shopkeeper checks in with all his other customers before heading toward Piper. He gives her a dismissive look, and when she speaks, his face is hard and unforgiving. He puts goods on the counter, but he practically slams them down as if he hates serving her.

His attitude goes all over me. I casually head inside, moving closer to where Piper stands near the counter. She gestures at the items she’s purchasing, her face obscured by her hood. “I think this is everything for me. What is my total?”

The shopkeeper doesn’t even glance up. He just packs things into a container. “Three hundred twenty standard credits.”

I look at the small pile of goods as Piper pulls out a credit chip, and I know suddenly that she’s being overcharged. She’s got noodles and a few other kitchen goods. Nothing that should be that expensive. I put my hand over hers before she can hand it over. “You want to tally that again, friend?” I say in a dangerous voice.