Page 1 of Protected By the Alien Space Guardian

Bored, I speared another piece of meat on my knife and took a bite.

My target sat in the corner, hidden in the shadows, slurping down his last cup of spirits while fondling the girl squirming on his lap.

Enjoy it, bastard, I mused. I liked allowing my victims a few moments of happiness before I put them out of their miserable existence. Boudoyen Rapsala was no different from all the other hundreds of males I had permanently expelled from the cosmic expanse—universe. He was a target given to me by my superiors, and that was all there was.

My communicator beeped once before an unemotional voice relayed my orders. “Raasla Garjed, SG5289.”

I grunted my reply, masking it by taking a drink from the worst spirits ever to have been served in any of the questionable establishments on RAT05, possibly the entire Cosmic Coalition. I almost felt sorry for Boudoyen Rapsala to have this as his last drink. Then again, I doubted he was used to any finer cuisine.

His files told me everything I needed to know about his foul existence, and I didn’t relish the interruption during the final moments of my mission.

“Abort your mission and return to your ship for further instructions,” the comm ordered, startling me. My superiors had never aborted one of my missions. Ever. Especially this close to the final accomplishment. Our targets were carefully chosen, vetted. Mistakes were not an option.

Nobody was watching me. I wore a large cloak and had the hood drawn over my face, the same as most other customers in this establishment. I bent a bit lower, allowing the hood to fall farther before I mumbled, “Is Boudoyen Rapsala still a target?”

“Yes, Raasla Garjed. We will send a replacement to finish the job.”

“No need,” I advised and turned the comm off so I didn’t have to listen to him order me otherwise. Boudoyen Rapsala had been my target for months. It took longer than normal to find his hidey-hole on RAT05. I usually didn’t get emotionally involved with my targets—and I wasn’t—but Boudoyen Rapsala was an especially nasty criminal, and I wanted to see the universe free of him.

This would be quick anyway.

I pushed the chair back and the hood from my head. The dining hall fell silent within seconds as patrons recognized my grayish-silver skin and black eyes.

Space Guardian!

The call moved along the tables. Feet and legs were pulled in lest I stumble over them—as if there was a chance of that. Faces turned warily, mostly away, exposing the innocent ones. The ones facing me wondered if I came for them, moving warily back in their chairs, their minds going over all the crimes they had committed and if any warranted the attention of a Space Guardian. Fools. The lot of them.

The one I came for sat laughing on his chair, still fondling the girl and drinking the vile piss they served as spirits here.

The girl saw me first. She squealed and tried to get up from Boudoyen Rapsala’s lap, but he held her tight, at last realizing death was coming for him. We locked eyes.

My right hand moved for my dagger, sheathed by my side. It would be all that was needed here. My left extended toward the girl, whose long neck craned to look up at me. I flashed her a smile, and she melted—they all do.

“Looks like your whore fancies the Space Guardian more than you,” the other man at the table laughed, slapping the surface.

The girl took my hand, and I pulled her up as Boudoyen Rapsala’s hands fell uselessly to the side.

“Go in peace,” I told her, letting go of her hand and caressing her swollen cheek.

She rose to her tiptoes, slung her arms around my neck, and kissed me.

“I’ll be waiting for you upstairs,” she invited into my ear. “No charge.”

She was very tempting. Very. But my superiors expected my call, and I doubted they would allow me to linger and dally with the girl. A shame, really. She was pleasant to look at even though she was a Catanar.

Boudoyen Rapsala used the moment of distraction to pull his blaster. With a sigh, I gently pushed the girl aside while my knife went flying, embedding itself deep into the center of Boudoyen Rapsala’s torso, where his heart stopped beating immediately.

He slunk down on his chair, his blaster clattering uselessly to the ground. I pulled my knife out of the dead male’s torso. I wiped the blade on his clothes before I placed a generous credit slip on the table for the master of the tavern who would have to clean up the mess.

“Hold on one tick—second—you can’t just come in here—”

The asshole who got in my way didn’t finish. Just as he was getting to his feet, I shoved his head into the table, overturning spirits and food.

His friend came at me from the side and met my left fist straight into his trachea. Coughing, he dropped to his knees. All his bravado left with his breath.

Nobody else challenged me when I walked to the exit.

On top of the stairs stood the girl, throwing a pouting look at me as I turned and left for my ship.

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