Scattered Stardust

Plygar

A few days later they docked at Plygar outpost, a forest moon. The cruiser's powerful thrusters rippled the swaying plants like water as they landed. Strange flying creatures took to the sky in fright, swirling away from the settling ship. 

The captain sought Lotor out as preparations for ship maintenance and refueling began. He found the prince sitting in his room sharpening his dueling sword. 

"Sir, I've been asked to inform you that you will not be permitted outside the ship at this outpost."

Lotor waved him aside carelessly.

"Yes yes I understand."

"I will be posting sentries outside your door to confirm your whereabouts," the captain continued, slightly taken aback at the lack of resistance.

"Is that everything captain?"

"Yes."

"Well then off with you. Enjoy the break. Do we have an estimated time of departure?"

"We should be ready to leave within 4 vargas."

Lotor nodded his understanding and the captain left. And sure enough, he heard the distinctive metal footfalls of a pair of sentries position themselves outside his door. He sighed, stowing his sword in its sheath. 

This was not unexpected, but not helpful either. Tapping the small communicator on his wrist Lotor muttered,

"Seems like I'm going to have to sit this one out. The captain's posted a pair of bodyguards on me and told me not to leave the ship. You've got 4 vargas to scout out the area."

"By myself?" Zethrid's indignant voice responded. 

"You'll do fine. This is a colonial moon. They should be used to travelers of all sorts. Just act like you belong here and no one will question you."

She growled in annoyance. 

"How do you know I'll even be able to find another half breed here?"

"I don't. But we have to start somewhere. Now get going! I don't know how long the crew is going to be gone."

.....................................................................

Zethrid was not made for hot weather. She decided that immediately after stepping out of the ship's cool dry shell and into the thick humidity of the moon Plygar. Her fur felt damp and soggy and she could already feel sweat gathering in her palms. Insects swarmed through the air, their buzzing almost deafening to her sensitive ears. 

Gritting her teeth, she soldiered through the hot thick air. 

The outpost landing pad was buzzing with activity. Mechanics of many different species flitted around the Galra ships, repairing, replacing, and refueling. Officers strode back and forth from ships and buildings, barely deigning to look at those who serviced their ships. Zethrid hoped she was blending in as she headed for the edge of the military outpost. If Lotor was right, there should be a huge marketplace just beyond.

Her wrist communicator buzzed. 

"Any problems?" Lotor's voice asked. 

"Just this heat," Zethrid complained, tugging at the collar of her outfit as she went. "Why would any Galra, even a half breed, want to live here?"

"It's not a question of what they want. Where they end up is where they end up. I'd wager that a few hybrids have been through this moon. It's a cultural hub."

"Yeah well I hope I find one soon. The sooner we leave the better."

She trudged onward, sun pelting down relentlessly. It seemed to take ages, but she finally reached the edge of the compound. Pausing to catch her breath in the thick warm air, she looked beyond the outer wall. 

Sure enough. A bustling marketplace stretched for miles among the thick trees. Shops, booths, tents and houses lay nestled in thick tangles of forest. Splotches of color from the wood and fabric stood out against the shades of green. Aliens of all shapes and sizes wove between structures like a living river. 

Suddenly the possibility of meeting another half breed didn't seem as remote. 

"Well? Do you see anything?" Lotor's impatient voice chimed in.

"Yeah. A market, just like you said. There's thousands of aliens though."

"Just get started. We've already used up half a varga."