‘There is little effort involved in destroying everything you cherish. The gap between happiness and sorrow is only a few atoms wide, smaller than the depth of a daydream.’

Hanga couldn’t believe that his brain spouted philosophical nonsense while he was being chased by merciless security droids. His heart threatened to grow legs and run faster than him. He used to stay in his workroom, not sprint like an athlete.

On Valeria, there was a saying: “What a man does with his own two hands, not even the devil can undo.”

An idea flickered inside his mind. Every evening, an event took place in the main corridor. One of the luckiest and wealthiest shopkeepers had the honor of showing the visitors some of the customs in the barbaric worlds and explaining them through science. Of course, in the end, he would invite the crowd to visit his shop and browse his wares. Everything was business on Erchpri.

Along the way, Hanga managed to get away from the droid tailing him. But the Market Hub had several more, and they were all on his trail. He had frozen in the corridor, trying to blend in with the wall as he squinted around the corner.

The right time arrived as a flame eater hoisted a torch in front of the audience, the heat from it warming cheeks and singeing brows. As they waited for the entertainment, the audience shouted and clapped.

He could sneak through the main hallway undetected, blending in with the crowd. His only option might be the vertical tubes with pads for transporting between floors on the other side of the corridor. For the time being, at least.

He stepped forward, but retracted his leg immediately and glued himself to the same wall as before. Breathing heavily, he peeked up and down the main corridor. Two security droids approached, one from each end of the corridor, using their anti-gravity systems to see above the crowd. Hanga had to cross this plan off his list. What list? Who was he kidding? He had no list. He was done for.

The Valerian closed his eyes and smacked the back of his head on the wall many times. When he opened his eyes again, the blue, starry shopfront with the words "Warren's Star Materials" flashing in a light display drew his attention.

Hanga barged inside, slamming shut the door. A round human face with an open mouth had its wide eyes pinned on him.

“You are Warren, I suppose,” the Valerian said between two erratic breaths.

“Y-yes,” the human stammered, nodding and shaking.

Stolen story; please report.

Warren had a large, flat expanse between his nose and mouth. Hanga found himself looking at it, unsure if his nose sat too high or his mouth dropped too low. Realizing he was wasting precious seconds, the Valerian clicked a switch to lock the front door and placed a “Closed” sign.

Hanga had struggled with politeness all his life since it could take on more shapes than a nebula and masked a lot more malice. Valerians weren't typically like this. But he didn't have time for that anyway, so he just blurted out everything.

“Warren, I don’t have time to explain. I need your help.”

Hanga peered into the man's eyes. Fear and distrust lurked behind a look that screamed, 'I'll run the first chance I have.' It was a disaster. The situation demanded drastic measures.

"I am aware of your unlawful activities." Warren's right hand grasped the edge of a shelf in response to Hanga's comments. "You have a private shaft that leads directly into the cargo hold. You're smuggling things in and out of the Market Hub, and if this comes out, you'll lose this business and maybe all your wealth."

The shop owner’s eyes unwillingly shifted to the left side, looking at the wall, before darting back at Hanga. The Valerian smiled, satisfied. "So, where do you keep the lifting gear controls? Behind a wall panel? Ingenious and in plain sight. No one would expect that."

Moving next to that particular wall, Hanga’s hands went up and down over each panel.

"I've recently assumed ownership of this store. If there is anything like you describe, it is not mine," Warren explained in a trembling voice.

Hanga yanked open a panel after a click in the wall. According to the Valerian's information, the shaft led down to the cargo hold. He just had a few steps to get to the docking area from there. Surely, he would find a nice ship to get inside as a stowaway.

"Warren, please be a good human and seal this panel when I go," Hanga pleaded as he passed through the wall breach. "We don't want the security droids to locate this hole. Best wishes!"

Hanga descended into the pit. After the wall panel closed with a muted thump, everything went dark. When he got down to the bottom, his hands came upon another hatch, this one firmly locked. But what kind of mechanical engineer would go anywhere without a mighty screwdriver? He pulled one from his jacket's inside pocket, and within seconds, all the bolts were free.

Looking across the cargo hold, he perceived no movement. The light barely reached his escape route. So far, so good. Hanga spent some time examining the room and any recesses, but he found nothing suspicious. He decided to make a run for it.

A cold grip on his shoulder stopped him. Hanga heard an artificial voice behind him. “Target acquired, Awaiting orders.”

Hanga resisted and attempted to strike his pursuer. He couldn't because the hold was too tight.

“Orders received. Eliminate the trash. Proceeding to operation purge.”

A swift motion turned Hanga to face his attacker. As the hand holding his shoulder loosened its grip, the security droid’s other hand wrapped around his neck.

Icy, steely fingers encircled Hanga's neck. As his feet swung back and forth over the floor, his lungs burned for more air. Attempting to move the fingers or, at the very least, relax their grasp proved useless.

Hanga thought he was about to pass out. The droid's dark eyes glowed brilliant yellow. It remained motionless for several seconds as the Valerian gasped for air. Its fingers withdrew, allowing Hanga to fall to the ground.

"Tejeda claims you owe him twice. I believe you owe me threefold since I have missed the corn festival for this."