Page 18 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

I snap the rifle around. Another burst of plasma, another enemy reduced to floating cinders. Their return fire intensifies, energy bolts crackling past my head close enough to make my scales tingle.

I dive low, skimming the waves. Water sprays up in my wake as I weave between their shots. Two more trigger pulls, two more Grolgath destroyed.

The last one backs away, his energy pistol trembling in scaled hands. His shot goes wide.

Mine doesn't.

My boots clang against the metal deck as I land. The acrid smell of plasma discharge lingers in the air, mixing with salt and fish. Five piles of ash scatter in the lake breeze - all that remains of the Grolgath crew.

"Damn. Should have kept one alive."

"Indeed, sir. Your enthusiasm for combat continues to interfere with intelligence gathering."

I holster my rifle and scan the deck. Fishing nets, tackle, bait boxes - everything looks normal enough. Too normal.

"Something's off about this setup, Teletran. No self-respecting Grolgath would play fisherman without a reason."

The deck hatch creaks as I pull it open. A rush of cold, damp air hits my face. The hold below is dark except for an eerie blue glow.

My claws click against the metal steps as I descend. The blue light pulses from a massive tank that takes up most of the cargo space. Hundreds of fish swim in lazy circles behind the thick glass.

"Just bluegills?" I pull out my compad and scan them. "Regular Earth fish?"

"Not quite regular, sir. These specimens show significant genetic modification."

Numbers and diagrams flash across my compad's screen - DNA sequences, protein markers, mutation patterns. It might as well be written in ancient Vakutan for all I understand it.

"Get me Veritas Command." The compad chirps as it connects. "This is Agent Varak. I need a containment team at these coordinates. And make sure you send a science geek - we've got some fish that need studying."

"A science geek, sir? How eloquently put."

"Shut it, Teletran. You know what I mean."

I pull the beacon from my utility belt and slam it into the deck. Blue light pulses as it activates, sending its signal skyward. The containment team will find this rust bucket easily enough.

"Beacon active and broadcasting, sir. Might I suggest we depart before the humans notice a seven-foot alien hovering over Lake Michigan?"

"Always ruining my fun, Teletran."

The jetpack ignites with a familiar whine. Lake spray pelts my scales as I rocket upward, leaving the fishing boat and its mysterious cargo behind. The city skyline beckons, a wall of glass and steel piercing the night sky.

Wind whips past my facial ridges as I soar between buildings. The thrill of flight never gets old - the raw power, the freedom. Below, humans scurry about their lives, oblivious to the war being waged in their skies.

My boots touch down on the office roof with a metallic clang. The jetpack powers down, its heat sinking into my scales. Chicago stretches out before me, a maze of lights and shadows. Somewhere in that maze, Aileen sleeps.

"Your heart rate elevated again, sir. Thinking about Ms. Marella?"

"When did you become such an expert on Vakutan physiology?"

"Around the same time you became an expert on human courtship rituals."

I lean against the roof's edge, letting the cool night air wash over me. For decades I've protected this timeline, kept the Grolgath from reshaping human history. It was always just the mission - preserve the proper flow of time, maintain stability.

But now? Now I see what I'm really fighting for. Not just some abstract timeline, but real people. Aileen's smile. The wayher eyes light up when she talks about her family's restaurant. The soft curves of her body pressed against mine.

The Grolgath won't just destroy history if they succeed. They'll destroy her. Everything she is, everything she could be - gone in an instant.

I won't let that happen. Not to her. Not to us.

---