He Fed Alien Children — Unaware Their Mother Was the Most Powerful Woman in the Galaxy…

The rain never really stopped on Station Orin-7 — it just cycled through densities. Right now, it was the kind of steady mist that painted the steel corridors in a sheen of gray and made even artificial light look tired.

Marcus wiped down the counter again, more out of habit than need. Third time in an hour. Earth Home Cooking, his half-forgotten diner at the far end of Level 7, didn’t exactly draw crowds these days.

Once, the place had a waitlist — engineers, traders, and weary diplomats lined up for black coffee and something fried. But traffic had moved to higher decks, closer to the shuttle hubs and security checkpoints. These days, if he got five paying customers, he considered it a rush.

The hiss of the entry door cut through the silence, followed by the soft patter of wet feet.

Marcus looked up, his practiced smile already forming — the one that said welcome, yes, we’re still open, no, you’re not interrupting anything important.

It froze halfway to completion.

Two children stood at the threshold. Their skin shimmered with a soft, iridescent blue, rain clinging to their arms in droplets too round to be water. Large amber eyes blinked at him — not with fear, exactly, but something close to it.

They couldn’t have been older than seven or eight by human reckoning, but Marcus had worked enough alien ports to know better than to guess. Species aged differently.

Still. They were alone.

No guardians.
No identification tags.
Just two silent figures tracking rain across his floor.

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They wore simple brown tunics that were too thin for the station’s cold corridors, and they hugged themselves against the chill. “We’re hungry,” the taller one said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, sir, we haven’t eaten in 2 days.” Marcus felt his heart clench. He’d seen plenty of refugees pass through the station, but children always got to him.

He glanced past them into the corridor, looking for parents or guardians. “No one. Where are your folks?” he asked gently. The smaller child, a boy, looked down at his bare feet. Mama had to go away. She said she’d come back, but it’s been 3 days. Three days. Marcus felt anger rise in his chest.

What kind of parent abandons their children on a space station? but he pushed it down. Whatever the story was, these kids needed help. Now ome gesturing to a booth. Sit down. I’ll make you something. Their faces lit up with such pure relief that Marcus had to turn away quickly, busying himself at the stove. He prepared his specialty, real chicken soup with noodles, fresh bread, and apple pie.

He learned long ago that most species could digest Earth food, and the ones who couldn’t would know it. The children ate like they were starving, which they probably were. Marcus sat across from them, nursing a cup of coffee and learned their names, Kira and John. They were Nexury from a world he’d never heard of.

And they spoke with a careful precision of kids who’d learned galactic standard from language chips rather than conversation. Our mama is very important, Kira said between bites, her voice filled with pride. She has to do important work. That’s why she had to leave. Important work? Marcus repeated, trying to keep the skepticism from his voice.

What kind of work? Jon shrugged, focused entirely on his soup. Kira looked uncomfortable. She doesn’t tell us. But everyone respects her. Everyone bows. Marcus nodded slowly. Probably some mid-level bureaucrat, he thought, who cared more about her career than her kids. He’d seen it before. Well, you two can come here whenever you’re hungry.

All right. No charge. For the next week, Kira and John became fixtures in his diner. They arrived every morning when he opened, did homework at the corner booth, and helped him clean in exchange for meals. Marcus found himself looking forward to their arrival, their laughter filling the empty spaces of his restaurant.

He taught them to make pancakes. They taught him nexery counting games. He asked around the station about them carefully, not wanting to draw the wrong attention. No one knew anything. No missing children reports, no worried guardian searching. It was like they’d simply appeared out of nowhere. On the eighth day, Marcus made his decision.

He’d contact social services, get these kids into proper care. Whatever their mother’s excuse, 3 days had turned into more than a week. They deserved better. He never made the call. The diner’s door opened that evening, and Marcus knew immediately that everything was about to change. The woman who entered moved like gravity itself bent to her will.

She was tall with the same blue skin and amber eyes as the children, but her presence filled the room like a physical force. She wore black armor that seemed to absorb light, and her long dark hair was threaded with silver that might have been premature gray or might have been something else entirely.

Behind her, two figures in military uniform stood at attention in the corridor. Through the viewport, Marcus could see a battle cruiser that definitely hadn’t been there an hour ago, its size dwarfing the station. Kira and John looked up from their homework. Mama, they cried in unison, scrambling from the booth. The woman’s severe expression melted as she dropped to her knees, pulling them into a fierce embrace.

“My stars,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “My little stars. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Marcus stood frozen behind the counter, his mind trying to process what he was seeing. the way the children clung to her, the genuine anguish in her voice. This wasn’t some neglectful bureaucrat. After a long moment, she stood, keeping one hand on each child’s shoulder.

Her eyes met Marcus’, and he felt the weight of that gaze like a physical thing. “You fed my children,” she said. “It wasn’t a question. They were hungry,” Marcus replied, finding his voice. She walked toward him slowly, the children trailing at her sides. Up close, he could see the exhaustion in her face, the faint scars that marked her skin, the weight she carried.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked. Marcus shook his head. Something like relief flickered across her features. “My name is Liara. I am the supreme commander of the Nexor fleet.” The Zthian conflict ended 3 hours ago. I’ve been in combat negotiations for 9 days straight, unable to leave, unable to even send word. My security team was supposed to care for Kira and Jon, but their ship was destroyed in the opening assault. Her voice hardened.

I found them through station surveillance, tracing their movements. They led me here. Marcus felt the floor tilt beneath him. the Zthian conflict. He’d heard about it on the news feeds. A war that had threatened to engulf three sectors, millions of lives in the balance. “I didn’t know,” he said stupidly. “I am glad you didn’t.

” Lara reached into her armor and pulled out a credit chip, setting it on the counter. “This represents the entire budget of a small planet. It’s not enough for what you’ve done, but it’s what I can give.” Marcus stared at the chip. I don’t want payment. They’re good kids. Anyone would have. No, Liara interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. Not anyone.

Most would have called authorities, had them processed, separated them. You gave them safety. You gave them kindness. In a galaxy where I command millions and negotiate the fates of worlds, I couldn’t protect my own children. But you did. She placed her hand over her heart in what he recognized as a nexerie gesture of deep respect.

Behind her through the viewport, he saw officers on the battle cruiser bridge doing the same. The Nexury honor their debts. Leara said, “If ever you need anything, anything at all, you have but to call my name, and I will move stars to answer.” Marcus looked down at Kira and John, who were smiling at him with their gaptoed grins.

“Just bring them by sometimes for pancakes.” Liara’s expression softened into something that might have been a smile. “Every week,” she promised. “If the galaxy can spare me,” as they left, Kira turned back. “Thank you, Marcus,” she called out. “For being our friend.” After they were gone, Marcus sank onto a stool and picked up the credit chip.

Through the viewport, he watched the massive battle cruiser turn gracefully in space, beginning its journey to whatever came next. He thought about power, about the different kinds of strength it took to command fleets and to show kindness to strangers. He thought about a woman who could end wars but couldn’t be there when her children were hungry.

and he thought about two little kids who’d simply needed someone to care. Marcus set down the chip and went to prepare tomorrow’s soup. He had a feeling he’d need to make extra portions from now on. After all, you never knew who might walk through your