Free Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One by Deborah Chester

flowing through him. He picked up his mother’s payment card, which had maybe one credit on it. He put on his coat. He switched the data screen to vid signal so the lits would have something to do when they came scrounging in for the breakfast they wouldn’t get. And he walked out.
    Just like that. He wasn’t going back. Ever.
    “Here, then, is all I will pay you!” declared the Viis cook to the shopkeeper. Flicking out his tongue, he fitted his purchases into his basket and left. Another customer came up.
    Exasperation welled up inside Elrabin. He couldn’t wait here much longer. Good thieving involved a quick dart, grab, and run. Lingering meant being seen. Being seen meant getting caught.
    If luck rode on his shoulder, the patrollers would be kind, understanding individuals who would haul him home, strung up by the heels for all the neighbors to see. They would force his mother to leave work and make his bail. She’d lose pay. Elrabin would get an arrest mark on his record sheet. After that, if he got caught again, it was loss of a hand or sale to hard labor. That was the lucky scenario.
    The unlucky one meant the patrollers would skip ahead past warnings and reform efforts and just cut off his hand on the spot for a first offense.
    Not a good start to his first day as a thief.
    But Elrabin had no intention of being a failure.
    The shopkeeper turned his back to rearrange the scarlet pomas into a small pyramid, and Elrabin seized his chance.
    He sprang forward, running right under the shopkeeper’s coattails, and grabbed as many of the meat globes as he could. Stuffing them into his pockets, he wheeled toward the back of the stall.
    But the customer saw him. “A thief! A thief!” she shouted, pointing.
    The shopkeeper whirled around, banging the edge of his torso shell against the counter. “Thief! Stop! Robber!” He slapped a button, and a portable alarm blared.
    Cursing them both, Elrabin flung himself through the slit he had cut in the back of the tent stall. Cloth ripped as he forced himself through the hole. The shopkeeper, hard on his heels, gripped his coat and dragged him back.
    Fear burst in Elrabin’s chest. He squirmed desperately and pulled free, only to trip flat. Several of the meat globes squished in his pockets, soaking him with juice and filling his nostrils with their aroma. The shopkeeper grabbed him by his left ankle now and held on, shrieking for assistance.
    Elrabin twisted in the shopkeeper’s hold and kicked free. He scrambled backward, scooting right under the Gorlican, then stood up. The move toppled the Gorlican off-balance. Staggering to one side, the Gorlican snapped with his beaked mouth, but Elrabin was already scrambling through the tent slit on all fours.
    The alarm was still blaring. Gaining his feet in the filthy alley behind the food stall, Elrabin heard the sound of running footsteps. The shopkeeper’s shouts for help grew louder. At any moment the patrollers would arrive.
    Elrabin gulped in air, flattened his ears, and ran for his life. If he was lucky, he could reach the end of the alley and make the corner before anyone spotted him. All he needed was a head start and he could lose the patrollers.
    “You!” an amplified Viis voice boomed behind him. “Small Kelth in the brown coat. You will stop and submit to arrest!”
    Elrabin glanced over his shoulder and saw black-suited patrollers coming after him. He couldn’t count how many. One or twenty, it didn’t matter. In moments they would have a sniffer locked onto him, and then his chances would pretty much be over.
    Panting for breath, fear running hot weakness through his pumping legs, he ran in a zigzag pattern, trying to elude the sniffer and knowing he had scant chance of success in the narrow alley.
    It was stupid to head for the corner. They expected that. He could hear them talking into their comms behind him. Probably they were calling up more patrollers to block his path.
    Abruptly, Elrabin turned left and