Page 14 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

“I hope not,” Var mutters. He taps a claw against the screen, and a holographic image flickers to life. It’s Daria, Reku’s… whatever she is. Her red mohawk is tangled, her face smeared with dirt. The collar around her neck gleams even in the dim light.

I’m out of my seat before I even think about it, leaning over Var’s armrest, blocking his view of the holo. “Daria! We’ll turn around immediately. Just hold on?—”

“No!” Her voice cracks, sharp and desperate. “That’s not why I’m calling.”

Var grabs my arm, his grip firm but not painful, and pulls me back into my seat. I glare at him, but he’s focused on Daria. “Then why are you?”

She hesitates, her fingers twisting in the ragged remains of her flightsuit. “I wanted to thank you. For sparing Reku.”

I blink, my mind stumbling over her words. “Thank you?Thankyou? That monster?—”

“And,” she interrupts, her voice steadying, “I have information. Critical information.”

Var leans forwardly. “Go on.”

Daria glances over her shoulder, as if afraid someone might overhear. “Reku wasn’t acting alone. Someone hired him to sabotage theTriumphant. Someone powerful.”

The silence on the bridge is thick, the kind of silence that feels like it’s pressing against your eardrums.

“Who?” I demand, my voice cutting through the stillness.

Daria’s image flickers, her face pale and drawn under the dim light of whatever hovel she’s calling from. I lean closer, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dig into my palms. “Kallus? You’re sure that’s the name you heard?”

She nods, her spiky mohawk bobbing slightly. “I never saw him. But Reku mentioned him once. Said he was ruthless.” Her voice trembles, and she glances over her shoulder, her fear palpable even through the holo feed.

I glance at Var, who’s leaning back in his chair, claws drumming on the armrest. His purple eyes gleam with something between amusement and annoyance. “Ruthless, huh?” I say, my voice sharp. “More ruthless than your lover?”

Daria’s face hardens, her lips pulling into a tight line. “You don’t understand. Reku is—he’s?—”

A roar cuts through her words, guttural and furious, and Daria flinches like she’s been struck. Her eyes widen, and she reaches for the console. “I have to go.” The feed cuts out abruptly, leaving the bridge in silence.

Var lets out a low whistle, tilting his head toward me. “Well, Ambassador, looks like we’ve got ourselves a lead.”

“A lead? That’s it?” I snap, pacing the narrow space. “Daria’s word isn’t enough to hold Kallus accountable. We need proof. Evidence. Something tangible to present to the Alliance.”

Var taps the plasma blaster at his side, the motion deliberate. “Legally?” He smirks, his fangs flashing. “How do your people say it? Un legal is just a sick parakeet? I bet I can get a full confession out of Kallus if I shove this blaster right up his?—”

“Just get me to Armstrong,” I interrupt, my voice colder than I intend. “And then we’ll never have to see each other again.”

The smirk vanishes from Var’s face, replaced by something that looks almost… hurt. His massive frame shifts in the chair, his claws stilling. “Why wouldn’t we see each other again?”

The question catches me off guard. I stop pacing, staring at him. His purple eyes meet mine, and for once, he doesn’t look smug or arrogant. He looks… genuine. I feel a pang of guilt, which I immediately hate. He saved my life, sure, but that doesn’t mean I owe him anything. Does it?

“Because,” I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be, “this isn’t my world. It’s yours. And as soon as I’m back on Armstrong, I’m going to do my job. And I assume you need to get back to YOUR job, um, blowing stuff up and causing mayhem."

"Damn right that's our job!" Gas whoops.

"I see," he says cooly. "So, we walk in different worlds, is what you're saying."

"We're FROM different worlds," I say with a sigh. "It's nothing against you, and I'll always be grateful that you saved my life, but once we get to Armstrong…well…That’s it.”

Var watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Armstrong it is, then.”

The bridge feels claustrophobic, the tension between Var and me thick enough to choke on. My head still pounds, and the way Var’s purple eyes keep flicking toward me isn’t helping. I clear my throat, breaking the silence.

“Mind if I use your comms? I need to reach out to the Alliance and IEC. Let them know I’m alive and… intact.” I gesture to myself, the motion a little too sharp.

Var leans back in his chair, his massive frame making the thing creak in protest. His claws tap against the armrest. “Gas,” he barks, not taking his eyes off me. “Take her to the ready room. Set her up.”

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