Page 5 of Wanted By the Alien Warden

TENN

“What is wrong with your hat?”

“Nothing is wrong with my hat,” I grumbled at Silar’s question. He, Cherry, and I stood outside my office in the mid-morning sun, waiting for the human-Zabrian liaison Tasha’s shuttle to arrive.

“Then why is it in your hands and not on your head?” Silar’s gaze went to my claws. “Why are you rubbing the badge with your thumb that way?”

“Ooh,” Cherry said with a hushed sort of excitement, leaning around her husband’s broad frame to better see what I was doing. “Is this like a good luck charm type of thing? When I was a kid, I found this little piece of scrap metal that was shaped like a heart. I carried it around for years. I always rubbed it when I felt like I needed a little extra good energy in my life.”

“You have known me for some time now, Cherry,” I reminded her with a quelling glance. “Do I strike you as a superstitious male? Prone to poking and prodding at spare bits of metal, or my own cursed hat, because I require ‘good energy?’”

“Jeez,” Cherry whispered to her husband. “Who pissed in his breakfast?”

I whirled on her, nearly dropping my own hat.

“Who pissedwhere?”

“It’s just a human expression!” Cherry exclaimed, throwing up her hands in a gesture of placation. Silar instantly moved to position himself between us, but her face merely poked out from beyond the golden brawn of his arm. “It just means you’re out of sorts!”

“Out of what sort?” I shot back.

“You’re just… not yourself!”

“Who the blazes else would I be?”

“Fine. Let me put this another way.” She met my gaze steadily with her fearless human eyes. “Warden Tenn, you seem extremely stressed out.”

I shoved the hat onto my head and adjusted the stunner at my belt.

Before I could respond to Cherry’s observation – which felt rather like an accusation – Silar suddenly said, “The badge is shinier now. You were polishing it.”

There was little point in denying it. I had been polishing the blasted thing.

“Well, at least one of us has to make a good impression here,” I muttered at length. “And forgive me if I don’t leave that up to you, Silar. You didn’t even wear a shirt to your own wedding.”

Cherry chuckled and patted Silar’s eternally bare chest.

“Yes,” she said, “but Warden, you’re not marrying Tasha!”

I frowned.

“I think,” she went on, “that Tasha isn’t going to be worried about things like how good your uniform looks. She’s mostly going to be making sure that none of us humans have married legitimately homicidal maniacs. That we’re healthy and safe and getting our three square meals a day. That sort of thing.”

I did not know that human females ate meals shaped into squares. This was good, if odd, information.

I probably should have read that document that Tasha wrote…

Despite Cherry’s words about Tasha not worrying about my personal presentation, I was not entirely sure that I agreed with her. I’d only seen Tasha a few times through the screen on my data tab, but she consistently presented herself with what appeared to be immaculate care and grooming. Her pretty human face always smooth and clean. Her pale hair pulled neatly back, not a strand out of place. Her clothing spotless and unwrinkled.

There would be no getting the dust or wrinkles out of my own uniform. But I could at least make sure that the blasted badge was gleaming. Because even outside of the physical perfection of the image the human-Zabrian liaison put across, there was a strict professionalism and smoothness of composure that I believed contained a very, very strong will.

I did not think she was a woman to be trifled with.

I did not think she would be easily impressed, either. Especially after her dismay finding out about the reality of the men here.

Considering how the truth had come out, and Tasha’s reluctance about continuing the bridal program, I was already beginning our interaction at a distinct disadvantage. Something I was not particularly used to and was rapidly finding out that I did not enjoy.

At all.

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