Kasha ran frantically down the dark alley, as fast as her short legs would carry her. Her breath came in gasps as she headed instinctively towards the bright lights of the street. Behind her lay a horror her six year old mind had yet to grasp, her parents lying in a pool of their own blood, their murderer now in hot pursuit of the one surviving witness to his crime.
It was just another commonplace murder on Varangi, a planet that had dragged itself from poverty to wealth by offering itself to the galaxy as an 'anything goes' destination. This decision had brought wealth to some, while keeping many in poverty, and had completely disrupted the planet's society and culture.
The murderer was gaining rapidly, and she could hear his footsteps thudding, getting louder and louder in her ears. In panic she began to utter loud wails as she ran, but in the end, this was what saved her, as hands lifted her, sweeping her off the ground and into the shadows. One hand clamped over her mouth.
"Ssh," said a voice softly in her ear, an odd voice, alien, she thought. She had seen aliens occasionally from a distance, and privately thought they were very ugly. She couldn't really see much of this alien in the dark, but thought the voice sounded kind.
The footsteps pounded towards them, and the pursuer finally appeared, a street vagrant from the tattered robe that she could dimly make out. The alien pointed something at the killer. A gun, she realised, as there was a flash, illuminating for a moment the vagrant's red scales, and the bloody knife he carried. The murderer fell, and in the dark she couldn't tell if he were dead.
"Where are your parents?" whispered the alien, and she pointed with a shaking hand back down the alley. The alien did not speak for a long moment, then whispered, "I'll take you where you can get help, ok?"
She buried her face in his shoulder. "I want my mummy," she whimpered.
He patted her soothingly. "I know, sweetheart, I know."
As they emerged into the light of the street, she stole a glance at her rescuer. He was ugly like all aliens, his eyes showing too much white, his skin soft and unscaled, as if he had no skin at all. She flicked out her forked tongue, tasting his scent. It was strange but not unpleasant. He smiled at her, and his teeth were straight and flat, not pointed. "Everything's going to be fine." He had a kind voice, she thought, a voice she would remember all her life.
Kasha T'or, having inherited her parents' considerable fortune at the tender age of six, was determined to use her money to make the world a better place. The act of violence which had left her an orphan so young might have been expected to embitter her, but Kasha only spoke of her second chance, of the mysterious alien who had saved her life that night, and said it was only fitting she give something back to her community. So at 22 years, her money financed emergency housing, soup kitchens, and education programs for the disadvantaged in every part of the planet. Many regarded her as a living saint. Some regarded her as a nuisance do-gooder. A few were beginning to regard her as a threat.
The assassins were recruited from off world, three beings from different races, but all with a reputation for success and all highly priced. Kasha, with her wealth, was able to afford excellent security, but luckily for the killers Kasha's compassion often led her to ignore precautions when they interfered with helping the needy. There were plenty of disenfranchised in the ghettos of the lawless cities who would happily sell out the saint for minimal pay. It was an easy matter to lure her out from behind the walls of her villa and isolate her.
There were two occurrences that night to mar the assassins' foolproof plan. First, just as one of the assassins trained his gun on her from a nearby rooftop, Kasha stumbled over some broken pavement in the dark, and the energy bolt slammed into the wall over her head. Even the rich on Varangi knew the sound of a gun when they heard it, and Kasha didn't waste any time in fleeing from the factory complex where they'd cornered her back towards where she'd parked her vehicle. The assassins had planned for this, and the other two now moved to cut her off.
It was then that the second, and far greater, piece of bad luck occurred. As Kasha ran, she suddenly noticed a large blue box-like structure where she was sure nothing had been before. Distracted by this, she didn't notice the alien standing in front of it until she ran right into him, knocking him over. They both ended up on the ground, staring at each other.
"Hello," he said.
"Help me!" replied Kasha. At that moment another energy bolt from a gun exploded harmlessly against the side of the box.
The alien looked in the direction of the shot, and gave a small sigh. "I see," he said.
She thought for a moment that the mysterious benefactor of her childhood had returned, until he spoke. The voice was wrong, she realised, and it could not be the same person, though she decided they must be the same race or similar. Unlike the previous time, this alien had a name (of sorts). He called himself the Doctor, and agreed to help her, which he did, most efficiently.
Before the night was over two of the three assassins were dead (though he had given them every chance to back out). The third, deciding that the fee wasn't worth the aggravation, made himself scarce. After returning Kasha to her home safely, the Doctor said he'd do some digging. Inside of a week, the authorities had enough information on the conspirators to compel action for a change, all provided by an 'anonymous informant'.
She told the Doctor about her childhood saviour, saying his appearance had been very similar. The Doctor was interested in her story, but could not shed any light on where the alien may have come from.
He was in her life for just a week, but that week, like the night when she was six, changed her. By the later years of her life Kasha T'or was heavily involved in politics, fighting what often felt like a lone fight against the corruption and vice that was so ingrained into Varangi culture. Many called her brave but foolish. They said Varangi would never change until there was incentive to change. She shrugged her shoulders, and said someone had to speak out. She gave back to her community, but in her heart had a secret dream, that one day she could meet her two saviours again, and repay them in person.