Page 2 of Protected By the Alien Bodyguard

"It's nothing personal. Just business," he replies with a shrug.

"What did you do?" I demand, a growl escaping.

I lament the absence of my laser pistol. It had to be relinquished upon entering the space station, as such a weapon could cause a catastrophic depressurization, resulting in instantaneous deaths... but also some really wild and gravity-defying hairstyles for a few seconds there. Still, I could have at least hit this male over the head with it by now, loaded or not. That's just smart planning.

A chill courses over my skin as Grum unveils an old, worn laser pistol, positioning the tarnished metal barrel atop the table.

"Honestly, Jaraz," he says smugly, drawing out my name in that mocking way thugs do when they think they have leverage, "did you think you could hide? The royal court's bounty on you is twenty thousand credits. Why settle for a thousand for an ID chip?"

I mean, I can't fault his logic. Yet his operation is known for discretion.

I draw a disheartening conclusion.

I can't fault his logic, but his operation is known for discretion. "They don't need me alive," I say, the irony bitter. Years of loyalty, and now I'm expendable for a 'minor' infraction—though to be fair, a coup is a bit more than minor.

Grum chuckles.

"Twenty thousand credits!" He quips. "Just for one customer! You think you can haggle? I hold the keys to your future, yet you think you can argue over my prices? Never again! With this money, I can afford a real female. Not some mere decorative pet!"

He spits on the female, who recoils with revulsion.

The male is a fool—never turn your back to your enemy.

I lunge, twisting the pistol to point safely away from my body. My claws dig through his thick scales, causing him to lose grip on the weapon. My tail arcs through the air, the lethally sharp tip aiming at his chest. I just have to hit him in a vital spot and this fight will be over.

His free hand rakes at my face with razor sharp claws. I dodge backwards, losing my balance. As I stagger, I pull Grum over the table with me in a tangle of limbs. The pistol clatters down beside us.

Grum roars, jabbing a spiked elbow at me with alarming speed. I roll away, narrowly avoiding an agonizing array of neurotoxins from the deadly spike. Getting close was foolhardy, but how else to disarm him of a weapon that could kill every living being on this space-station?

I launch to my feet and I land a punch on his exposed side. Instead of the satisfying thud of knuckles against flesh, the hardness of armor meets my fist. Damn it, of course he's armored up beneath that biosuit like a scaly little tank. Armor plating can withstand my tail's impalement no matter how insistently I waggle it.

Grum wheezes as his breath is knocked from him. Still, he manages a swift recovery from what should be a disabling strike. His fins slash again, and I feel the air brush across my cheek as I lurch backward once more. Continuing his assault, he lands a powerful kick to my ribs and knocks me down.

"No!" I shout as he grabs the pistol.

Grum raises the weapon, a maniacal grin stretching across scaled features. He cackles, "I'm going to enjoy this oh so very much!"

I stare down the barrel of the pistol. I realize I'll never apologize to my prince for failing him. Worse is the glaring emptiness of my life. I've had friends, dear ones even, but my existence has been dominated by work, devoid of real living— neither a mate by my side, nor younglings to laugh with. I've never experienced the deeper bonds of family and love.

It's all over for me. I'll never get the chance.

And that's when the female smashes Grum over the head.

Chapter

Two

KAYLA

Oh no, I just killed an alien.

Wait, is this a good thing? I mean, Grum was a notorious slaver, and I guess that makes me a… hero?

It's funny how it's a near-universal sign of surrender. The red giant on the floor stirs, hands out, palms facing himself. Many alien species have retractable claws; thus the hands-backwards “I’m not going to claw your face off” gesture.

“It’s okay… You’re okay…” Jaraz, the male with a name that sounds like a discount space villain, tries to reassure me.

My arms ache from holding the heavy, flashy… thing. I don't even know what it is. Some sort of alien flower pot? I drop it, and it clangs loudly.

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