The hum vibrated in Lila’s chest three seconds before she saw the ship.
It wasn’t a mechanical drone, but a resonant frequency, like the sound of wind chimes made from frozen moonlight. Lila had been huddled at her backyard telescope, trying to find her place in a universe that usually made her feel small and insignificant. When the noise rattled her teeth, she pulled back just as a chrome sphere descended through the oak tree’s branches without disturbing a single leaf.
The alien who emerged was approximately her height, with skin that shimmered like oil on water and far too many fingers. In those fingers rested a simple mason jar containing what looked like a marble of pure, trapped sunlight.
"Excellent specimen," the alien muttered, holding the jar up to Lila’s porch light to compare the lumens. "G-type main-sequence. Moderate luminosity. Jar forty-seven."
Lila’s voice came out steadier than her shaking knees suggested. "Is that... a star?"
The alien’s head swiveled in her direction—all the way around, a maneuver that made Lila’s stomach flip. "Observant for a local. Yes. I’m Qix, professional star collector. Five thousand specimens across twelve systems." Qix gestured toward the sphere, where the open hatch revealed floor-to-ceiling shelves glowing with captured constellations. "Quite the inventory."
"You collect stars." Lila’s brain scrambled to process the impossible geometry before her. "Like... you just take them?"
"Miniaturize and preserve them, technically. For sale to collectors, museums, and beings who desire unique ambient lighting." Qix tapped a holographic tablet hovering above a six-fingered hand. "This one is already sold, actually. A buyer from the Andromeda sector. Closing the deal in four of your Earth hours."
A cold dread, deeper than the winter air, slithered down Lila’s spine. She glanced up at the sky. The moon was gone. Without the sun to reflect, the night sky was an abyss of absolute darkness.
