Scattered Stardust

Lost Time

It only took a few dobasches for Zethrid to get hopelessly lost. The muffling heat combined with the chaotic swirl of the marketplace to create a spinning suffocating maze. For awhile she didn't think about it. There was enough to look at without worrying about where she was. She still had at least 3 vargas left to return to the ship. 

And in the meantime there was plenty to see. 

Tinkling chimes swung high above the vendors, their music combining with the strange chirping songs of the flying creatures hiding in the greenery. Wafts of cooking meat and vegetables floated through the humid air. A thousand different languages and dialects were being jabbered back and forth between vendors and customers. Zethrid caught enough to gather that haggling was the primary pastime of Plygar natives. 

She pressed on through the crowd, eyes roving the passing aliens and nose working to distinguish a mixed Galra scent. But the sheer size of the crowd was overwhelming. She caught snatches of Galra only to turn and find a pure blood reclining against their balcony. Regular Galra civilians were common enough here that it was hard to distinguish between racial variations. And looking at the passing aliens was little help either. A hybrid could look like anything! 

Her frustration grew as the novelty of the marketplace faded. It was hot and muggy and crowded. People shoved past her on all sides, apparently not intimidated by her size or race here. Bugs continued to swarm over the crowd, buzzing annoyingly.

She snarled in annoyance, finally ducking into a side alley for some privacy. 

"There's too many people here," she growled into her communicator, swatting a bug as it landed on her. "I can't find anything in this mess."

There was no response from Lotor. 

"Lotor? Are you there?" 

A faint crackle of static was the only reply. 

"Whatever," she muttered, lowering her hand and trying to wipe off some of the sweat. She would just have to make her way back to the ship and they could try again another time. And really, she thought, stepping  back out of the alley, what were the odds of just running into another half breed?

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

Half a varga left. 

Zethrid was starting to get skittish as the time dwindled away. She had headed back down the path but couldn't even see the compound walls anymore. The thick trees were blocking everything that wasn't immediately in front of her. Surely the ship wouldn't leave without her. Would they?

Her stomach clenched at the thought of being left on this hot unfamiliar planet. Lotor had gone to the effort to save her from the arena; he wouldn't leave her behind. But the crew would. Without hesitation. 

A small feeling of panic began to blossom as she quickened her pace. She had to get back. 

The communicator crackled uselessly on her wrist. 

The aliens she asked for directions were no help either. One would tell her one direction, but the next would be completely different. She got the distinct feeling she was going in circles, getting further away from the ship with every moment. Her eyes stung from the bright sun and she felt deafened by the constant flood of chatter. This was a mistake! 

A light tap fell on her arm.

Zethrid looked down, annoyed at being touched. 

A colorful, smooth skinned girl met her eyes. A single long tendril stretched over her head and down her back. It almost looked like a ponytail.