Page 12 of Space Daddy’s Guide to the Galaxy (Villains in Space #2)

12

MICAH

How the hell are we going to figure this out?

It had been a while since Ziggy first took me to the Muonova’s market district—and even then, we’d only visited the more adult -focused stalls—so I hadn’t realized how vast of an area it was.

Aaaaand I’m already confused…

Besides the glaring lack of signage, there didn’t seem to be what one would call a kid’s section—or a universal idea of what that even meant among such a wide variety of species.

“I’ll be right back…” I murmured to Zig after spotting a blob-shaped creature herding mini-blobs through the crowded aisle. “Gonna ask that one a few questions.”

My man tore his gaze from the selection of high-tech weapons he was perusing— because of course he was —to squint at my target, no doubt assessing the threat to my wellbeing.

What does he think they're gonna do?

Absorb me into their blobness?

As soon as he nodded in approval, I approached the blob as non-threateningly as possible before addressing them in the trade language. “Excuse me? I couldn’t help noticing you have offspring?—”

“They are not for sale,” the blob curtly interrupted before reaching out with blobby arms to gather their children close.

Before absorbing them into their blobness.

Well, okay then.

“Oh! I wasn’t interested in…” I stammered before gesturing at Ziggy. “We have, uh, offspring of our own but are unfamiliar with where to shop for them. Could you please direct me where to find supplies for offspring… things…?”

I don’t even know what I’m asking for!

The blob-parent peered around me to assess my family situation. When I followed their gaze— I think? Where are the eyes? —I sighed.

I’d asked Ziggy not to wear his Stellarian armor today, for a better chance of inspiring goodwill among our fellow shoppers, but he was apparently incapable of appearing like anything other than a bad bitch.

Usually, I can’t complain, but…

The current issue was that he was holding the sci-fi version of an AK-47 directly above where Pedro was bundled up in their homemade baby sling. A furry paw appeared from the folds of the sweatshirt, and I could only watch in resignation as Zig lowered the gun so “our offspring” could wrap their pangolin claws around the trigger in the correct way.

Space Dad of the Year…

I turned to face the blob again, expecting to find whatever their version of side-eye was. Instead, they were animatedly gesturing for me to follow them to a worn metallic panel barely hanging on to a nearby wall.

“We… are… here,” they haltingly spoke whilepointing at a hieroglyph that looked like a minimalist skull. “The death sector.”

That tracks.

It was no shock that one of the only areas of the market Ziggy was familiar with was Ye Olde Death Sector, but I staunchly focused on the pleasant surprise of there being an actual map.

“You go here,” the blob concluded, stabbing a blobby finger at a section marked with what was possibly an egg.

Or a bomb.

Unclear.

“Thank you.” I pressed my palms together and bowed my head, assuming that was the universal gesture for gratitude.

“Most welcome,” my savior replied with a blobby bow of their own. “Good luck with your Trol!”

Trol?

My translation device didn’t recognize the word, but before I could get clarification, the alien released their offspring from blob time-out and continued on their way.

Ziggy appeared at my side, brow furrowing as he squinted at the map he should have goddamn knew about.

“You were… asking for directions?” he murmured in wonder, as if the concept was as foreign to him as expressing emotions.

No wonder he identifies as a man…

“Well, yeah!” I exclaimed. “And the very nice blob told me this,” I pointed at our destination on the map, “is where to find offspring things.”

At least, I hope it is…

Ziggy nodded once before grabbing my wrist and abruptly star hopping us to the bomb-egg sector.

“I thought we were keeping a low profile,” I hissed under my breath, even if I was secretly glad we’d skipped what looked like a forty minute walk.

My ass is still a little sore from rooftop tendril tango.

That bratty Stellarian chuckled. “There are a few alien species who can fade in and out of invisibility, so our sudden disappearance and reappearance will not result in undue attention. Not to mention, any of the creatures here could be a Stellarian.”

I instinctively looked around, interested to see if I could spot a hint of tendrils glimmering above anyone. Unfortunately, this area of the market had adopted the same futuristic design choices as the death sector. Every visible surface was sleek, shiny metal, creating a dizzying funhouse mirror effect while reflecting the overhead glow that fluctuated between purple, blue, and pink.

Gotta make that merchandise look fancy with the bi-lighting!

Even offspring things…

My gaze snagged on a stall with rows of carved wooden objects, reminding me of the all-natural teething toys my sister Rose insisted on for all her kids.

I led the way, grabbing an item vaguely shaped like a baby rattle before experimentally holding it out for Pedro. A clawed paw appeared to accept the toy before disappearing into the depths of Ziggy’s kangaroo pouch once again. A moment later, the toy was loudly spat onto the counter with the wooden ball at the end missing a jagged chunk.

Oops.

“Try this one.” The unbothered vendor handed me a metal version with a ridged surface that reminded me of a meat tenderizer.

“Uhhh…” I grimaced. “I’m not sure that’s safe for?—”

Pedro snatched it directly from the vendor, and the enrichment must have hit, as all that emerged this time was the sound of grinding metal and contented cooing.

“It cleans the teeth,” the vendor sagely explained while accepting payment from Ziggy. “And maintains incisor sharpness.”

Bitey enrichment.

I nodded in thanks before we moved on to the next stall. By the time we’d visited every vendor in the first row, I’d taken over baby sling duties, and Zig had star hopped three loads of purchases back to the ship.

What baby Pedro wants, baby Pedro gets.

While waiting for my man to return from his latest door dash, I stumbled upon a corner lot filled with robots of all shapes and sizes, fenced in by shelves of accessories and mods.

Is this a freakin’ droid shop?!

I had no idea why something like this was being offered in the bomb-egg sector, but I couldn’t seem to locate anyone in charge to ask what their purpose was.

Let’s be real, Imma want one anyway.

Some of the droids were basic, little more than geometric trash cans on wheels, but most were humanoid shaped. I was relieved none were covered in skin—since I was alone in this creepy back alley full of lifeless automatons—but I couldn’t stop my nerdy little engineering heart from beating a little faster at the sight of so much tech.

And I know someone else who’ll appreciate this…

Digging out my phone, I snapped a few photos of a bright gold, blinged-out model and immediately texted them to Gabe.

I’m thinking ‘bout recruiting a new crew member.

To no surprise—probably thanks to him being an actual psychic—Gabe replied almost instantaneously.

Earth Angel

Bruh, did you make that?! Is there anything you can’t do?

I smiled down at my phone, my cheeks heating at the thought of someone as impressive as Gabriel Suarez thinking I was cool.

I’m such a dork.

Pedro made a little trilling sound from within their nest, and I peeked inside, finding their enormous yellow eyes rhythmically blinking up at me, like a cat showing they were happy.

Gah! So cute!

Earth Angel

Dre wants me to ask if it’s a sex bot

I could clearly picture Gabe’s twin lurking over his shoulder, reading his texts while inserting himself into everyone else’s business, as usual.

He should know by now that I clap back.

It is. Now, Dre has someone to play with the next time you come visit.

Unless he wants to take Ziggy up on his offer…

Earth Angel

Dude just star hopped away like a skerred little bitch!

I cackled, pleased I’d knocked the more intimidating twin off his game.

Prolly gonna go jerk off while thinking about Space Daddy.

Earth Angel

Fair. I know I would.

Wait, what?

Before I could make my slutty bestie spill, a hissing voice speaking the trade language had my hair standing on end.

“You are searching for a nanny bot, yes?”

Nanny bot?

I turned to face who I assumed was the robot vendor, hustling for a sale, only to come face to… faces with a Hydrassian.

Eek.

With Zion’s supe form being a giant lizard—an alien lizard—you’d think encountering extraterrestrial reptiles wouldn’t faze me. But it was one thing to observe a creature with multiple snakeheads from afar, and an entirely different experience to have a multitude of unblinking reptilian eyes fixed on you.

Pedro must have felt equally unnerved, because they were burrowed deep in their pouch, unmoving and quiet as death.

It’s okay, P—I’ve got this.

Realizing the Hydrassian had caught me in the corner of the lot farthest from the main drag, I flashed my most charming smile. “Why would I require a nanny bot?”

All six snakeheads zeroed in on the baby sling. “Because you have offspring. May we see it?”

How ‘bout no?

“My offspring is sleeping,” I replied in a light tone even as I discreetly raised my shields around both of us. “And my mate will be back any moment.”

I retreated, only to have the Hydrassian advance, backing me into a corner. While I felt fairly confident I could escape—or hold my own in a fight—I did not appreciate having my personal space disrespected.

Read the room, dude.

The… creepy robot abandoned lot…

Releasing a slow breath, I sent as many DANGER vibes to Ziggy as I could without alerting the alien in front of me that I was anything other than completely calm.

“You do not appear to be mated.” The Hydrassian judgmentally looked me over, and I bristled.

What the fuck does that mean?

“Well, he is.” Ziggy suddenly appeared behind my opponent, making all twelve reptilian eyes widen in alarm. “To me.”