Page 44 of Prize for the Alien Grumpus

"Talk fast." The weapon hums to life in my palm. One squeeze and there'll be nothing left but scattered atoms.

"Why protect this human? She's nothing special. Just another primitive biped on a backwater world."

"Ataxia herself was human."

"That's open to interpretation." Gregor straightens his tie. His image inducer flickers, showing scales beneath human skin. "But I'm not here to debate religious doctrine."

"Then why are you here?"

"To make you an offer." A thin smile spreads across his face. "One I think you'll find quite interesting."

The coffee grows cold in my hand as I keep the disintegrator trained on his chest. Steam no longer rises from the cup, and the holiday cheer feels very far away now.

"Full pardon," Gregor says. "Return to the Coalition. Your old rank, your privileges. Even that ridiculous collection of antique weapons."

My finger tightens on the trigger. "In exchange for what?"

"Nothing unreasonable. Keep your pets if you want them. The female and her offspring can live in comfort, provided they remain... contained."

The paper bag tears in my grip. Coffee splashes onto the pavement, steam rising in the cold morning air.

"They're not pets."

"No?" Gregor's scales ripple beneath his human disguise. "Then what are they to you, exactly? Surely you don't consider these primitives equals?"

The image of Sam's face flashes through my mind. Her tiny hands reaching for mine, teaching me to make paper snowflakes. Mel's rare smile when I manage not to destroy something.

"My family." The words rumble from deep in my chest, a growl that makes nearby car alarms chirp in sympathy.

Gregor's mouth drops open. His perfect bureaucrat facade cracks, showing genuine surprise beneath.

"They're my family," I repeat, louder this time. The disintegrator whines as power builds in its chamber.

Something clicks in my mind. Gregor's perfect composure. The way he stands, exposed, in broad daylight. No backup units or security drones in sight.

The real Gregor would never do this.

I lower my weapon, studying his face more carefully. The image inducer flickers again, but the pattern's wrong. Too regular, like a corrupted data stream.

"Nice try." I holster the disintegrator. "But Grolgath are cowards. They'd never confront an enemy face to face."

His expression doesn't change. The same thin smile, frozen in place.

"Besides, your projection matrix is showing."

I reach out and wave my hand through his chest. The hologram ripples, pixels fragmenting before reforming.

"Amateur work." I pop open Mel's car door. "Tell your boss to invest in better tech."

The hologram continues its rehearsed speech as I slide behind the wheel, my bulk barely fitting in the tiny Earth vehicle. I start the engine, drowning out whatever threats or promises the fake Gregor is spouting.

The hologram vanishes as I drive through it, scattering into particles of light that fade in the morning sun.

Time to get Mel her breakfast before it gets any colder. Maybe I can salvage at least one of the gingerbread cookies.

A shadow falls over the windshield. My first thought is clouds, but the darkness pulses with an otherworldly purple glow.

"No." I slam on the brakes, but the car continues forward, lifting off the ground. "Not now."

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