Page 17 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

“It’s a nine-pointed death machine with enough firepower to level a city.”

“Exactly. Respectable.”

She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “insufferable.”

The starfighters stay glued to our sides all the way down, their sleek, angular frames glinting in the sunlight. Christmasville sprawls below us, a glittering mosaic of towering spires, holographic displays, and winding streets. Even from this high up, I can see the city’s festive energy—holographic snowflakes drifting through the air, twinkling lights tracing the outlines of buildings, and the occasional oversized Santa Claus waving from a rooftop.

“It’s beautiful,” Quinn says, her voice softening.

I grunt in agreement. “For a city built on peace, it’s got a lot of sparkle.”

She glances at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re not entirely immune to charm, are you?”

“Don’t push it, Ambassador.”

We touch down at the starport, the gangplank hissing as it lowers. Quinn turns to me, her expression serious. “Listen, Varnok. These negotiations are delicate. The wrong word, eventhe wrong facial expression, could reignite the war. So just stay out of my way and try to be invisible.”

I bristle, my scales rippling with irritation. “And as your bodyguard, if it pertains to your safety, I’m in charge. If I say duck, you duck. If I say we move, we move.”

She opens her mouth to argue, then visibly reins it in. “Fine. But don’t make me regret this.”

We step onto the gangplank, the crisp Armstrong air hitting me like a slap. A contingent of officials waits for us, led by a tall, statuesque woman with deep lavender eyes. Prime Minister Serenity Garsdotter. She’s every bit as imposing as her reputation suggests.

“Ambassador Gellar,” she says, her voice smooth and measured. “Welcome to Armstrong. We’re relieved to see you safe.”

Quinn steps forward, her posture perfect, her smile diplomatic. “Thank you, Prime Minister. It’s good to be here.”

Serenity’s gaze shifts to me, her expression unreadable. “And you must be Varnok the Annihilator.”

I nod, my chest puffing out a little. “That’s me.”

Her lips twitch, almost like she’s suppressing a smile. “I’ve heard… quite a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Let’s just say you’re exactly as advertised.”

Quinn shoots me a look that screamsbehave. I smirk. This is going to be fun.

The Prime Minister gestures to a sleek shuttle waiting on the tarmac, flanked by a squadron of Armstrong starfighters. Their pilots stand at attention, their helmets gleaming under the city’s artificial sunlight. I raise a brow, my scales rippling with skepticism.

“Armstrong security, huh?” I grunt, crossing my arms. “You sure they’re up for the job? I’ve seen better defenses on a cargo barge.”

Quinn’s heel connects with my shin, sharp enough to make me flinch. I glare down at her, but she’s already turned to Serenity with a diplomatic smile plastered on her face.

“Ignore him, Prime Minister,” Quinn says smoothly. “He’s just… protective.”

Serenity doesn’t even blink. If anything, she looks amused. “I appreciate your concerns, Varnok. But the Armstrong Militia is more than capable of ensuring Ambassador Gellar’s safety.”

“Militia?” I snort, stepping closer to tower over her. “Those are full-blown soldiers. Call it what it is—an army. And I’ve seen plenty of armies fail.”

Serenity’s smile doesn’t waver. If anything, it deepens, like she’s enjoying this little sparring match. “Semantics, Mr. Annihilator. We’re a planet of peace, but we’re not naive. We’ve learned to protect what matters.”

Quinn cuts in before I can retort, her voice tight with irritation. “Enough, Varnok. Prime Minister, when can we begin the negotiations?”

Serenity gestures toward the shuttle, her movements as graceful as a dancer’s. “The formal talks will begin tomorrow. But tonight, I’m hosting a reception in your honor. It’ll be an informal setting where you can assess the… dynamics of our guests. Both Kallus Bruw and Speaker Zantress will be in attendance.”

My jaw tightens at the mention of Kallus. That slimy, scale-covered snake. Hiring Reapers to take out Quinn? That’s a level of cowardice even I can’t stomach.

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