Page 15 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

Gas hops down from his seat, his golden fur catching the dim light. “Right this way, Ambassador,” he says with a grin that’s way too cheerful for the situation.

I follow him off the bridge, my boots clicking against the metal floor. The ready room is small, barely more than a closet with a console shoved against one wall. Gas gestures to it with a flourish. “All yours. Just link your compad into the QE system here—” He taps a port on the console. “—and you’re good to go.”

I nod, pulling my compad from my pocket. “Thanks, Gas.”

He lingers, his long snout twitching like he’s chewing on something to say. “You know,” he starts, his voice casual in a way that immediately makes me suspicious, “the boss isn’t such a bad guy. Once you get to know him, I mean.”

I snort, plugging my compad into the console. “He’s impulsive, rude, and cocky. What’s not to love?”

Gas chuckles, his furry shoulders bouncing. “Yeah, sure. He’s all those things. But he’s also got a good heart. And he’d never do anything dishonorable.”

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you… trying to nudge me into seeing him as more than a rescuer? Or even a friend?”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “I’m just saying, the way you guys keep checking each other out when you think the other won’t notice is getting kind of embarrassing.” He gestures vaguely toward the bridge. “I mean, damn, sometimes I feel like I should just leave the room and give you two a little privacy.”

My face burns, and I quickly turn back to the console, fumbling with the connection. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I mutter, my voice tighter than I intend.

Gas laughs again, heading for the door. “Sure, Ambassador. Sure.” He pauses in the doorway, looking back at me with a wink. “But just so you know, I’m rooting for you two. You’d make a cute couple.”

“Out,” I snap, pointing at the door. He’s still chuckling as it slides shut behind him.

I sink into the chair, my cheeks still flaming. I thought I’d been subtle. Discreet. Clearly, I’d been wrong. I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the console. I need to reach out to the Alliance, not dwell on whatever ridiculous notions Gas has in his furry little head.

But as I start typing, I can’t help the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s not entirely wrong.

The holo image of General Dowron flickers to life in front of me, his pink scales dulled by the low light of the ready room. His stooped posture and the deep lines etched into his face make him look older than the last time I saw him, but his eyes are as sharp as ever. Relief flashes across his features the moment he sees me.

“Ambassador Gellar,” he says, his voice gravelly but warm. “You’re alive. I’ll admit, I was… concerned.”

“Thanks for being worried about me,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m fine, by the way. I wasn’t raped and killed by space pirates. Thanks for asking.”

Dowron’s expression tightens, and he lets out a low, rumbling sigh. “My apologies, Ambassador. I didn’t mean to be brusque. But while you were missing, the situation on Jwoon X and with Bruw Interstellar Shipping has escalated. It’s reached a fever pitch.”

I lean forward, my irritation momentarily forgotten. “What’s happened?”

“When you didn’t arrive on Armstrong, Kallus used his influence to push for a new ambassador to be assigned—a former employee of Bruw Interstellar Shipping. Someone who is, shall we say,biasedin his favor.”

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Of course he did. Let me guess, this new ‘ambassador’ is already pushing for a settlement that benefits Kallus and screws over Zantress and the Solari?”

Dowron nods. “Precisely. I’ve been stalling, and Prime Minister Serenity Garsdotter has flat out refused to allow the negotiations to continue if Kallus gets sole say in who the mediator will be. But time is running out.”

I pace the small room, my boots clicking against the metal floor. “Kallus very well may have tried to have me killed,” I say, stopping abruptly. I explain what Daria told us about Kallus hiring Reku to sabotage theTriumphant.

Dowron’s eyes narrow, and he leans closer to the holo feed. “The word of a traumatized slave girl isn’t enough to convict Kallus of anything. But it’s clear your life continues to be in danger.”

“No kidding,” I mutter, crossing my arms again. “So, what’s the plan? You’re not expecting me to waltz back into Armstrong without some kind of protection, are you?”

“Of course not,” Dowron says, his tone firm. “That’s why I’m assigning Varnok the Annihilator as your personal bodyguard.”

I stare at the flickering holo image of Dowron, my brain struggling to process his words. Then I laugh—a sharp, humorless sound that echoes in the small room. It’s the kind of laugh that makes me wonder if I’m losing my mind.

“Excuse the fuck out of my French, General,” I say, my voice rising, “but what in the hell did you just say?”

Dowron’s holo image flickers as I stare at him, my mouth hanging open. “You’re assigningVarnokas my bodyguard? Are you out of your mind? He’s not exactly the subtle type, General. He’s more the ‘smash first, ask questions never’ type.”

Dowron’s expression doesn’t change, but I swear I see the faintest twitch of amusement in his eyes. “I don’t have a choice, Ambassador. The Armistice treaty between the Coalition and the Alliance prohibits military forces from entering Armstrong’s controlled space. Varnok, however, is technically a Liaison. It’s a loophole, but it’s one we can use.”

“A loophole?” I throw my hands up, pacing the small room. “He’s a walking, talking wrecking ball. How is that a loophole?”

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