Our story so far:
Aaron Damerson is a rogue of sorts, who was, for a time, employed by an alien named Thenar. Upon discovering that the person he was sent to “take care of” was actually a fine, upstanding citizen, Aaron could take it no longer and charged, almost foolishly, into the lions’ den. We rejoin the action as Aaron makes an important decision about his future.
The story continues…
Aaron carefully un-cocked his pistol and span it back into the holster. The room around him seemed to deflate, the tension disappearing instantly. The entire room resounded with others likewise lowering their weapons and returning to their drinks.
“I am no longer in your employ,” Aaron said through clenched teeth. His voice was forced, as though he were talking to the lowest piece of slime on the planet, which may or may not be true. “You do not call. You do not write. You do not send a courier pigeon after me. You are dead if I see you again.”
Thenar’s face was blank.
“Are we crystal?”
Thenar nodded, a slight glimmer of fear showing in his eyes.
“I expect that, out of respect of past services rendered, you will at least let me get outside before you offer a reward for my head.” Aaron walked through the crowd of alien faces, every one pushing to get out of the way, towards the door. As he got outside he could hear a commotion inside.
“Give him twenty minutes,” shouted the muffled voice of Thenar, “then the bounty’s 20,000.”
Aaron took off at a run, mounting the jetbike and rocketing back to Porten’s villa, where he did not bother to stop at the gate. The entire villa seemed eerily quiet, all but a few of the guests that had been there only twenty minutes before suddenly vanished. When Aaron entered the large banquet hall, he was relieved to see Porten still sitting at the head of the largest table, talking to the woman he had been with earlier.
“Porten!” Aaron called from across the room. He ran up to the scarred alien, who seemed a bit surprised.
“Good sir, I don’t know who you are, but I assure you the festivities have concluded for this evening.”
“Porten Ve’Tan, you are in great danger.”
“Not from you, I would hope,” Porten replied, eyeing the holstered sidearm.
Aaron glanced down at his gun before looking back at the almost humored look on the alien’s face. “Until five minutes ago, you would be correct. I would tell you more, but there is no time. Suffice to say there are forces on this planet that want both of us dead.”
Porten’s face paled, or what passed for paling for Aurorusians. The green skin turned a little more sickly yellow. “How much time until they come for me?”
“I don’t know, but I would expect not long.”
“And you would be my protector?”
“If you would have me, sir.”
“Then I charge with the protection of myself and my family,” his hand reached out for the woman, who looked deeply distressed, “whatever the cost.”
What does Aaron, with new-found charges in his care, do next? Weigh in below or on the Facebook group.