Warriors of Risnar 4 Page 2

  The shape of a huge man, maybe the biggest Selena had ever seen, moved from around her pickup. Son of a bitch, had he been hiding there the whole while? Selena tensed and readied the bat.

  He edged closer, giving her a better look in the dying light of the day. Stripes. He was painted all over in stripes. He was naked and painted all over in ivory stripes over deep brown skin.

  Can’t be naked. His pole’s not out and waving. Wait—what the fuck is up with those ears?

  He stood next to Thompson, his eyes shimmering like silvery twin moons in his striped face. Under large, pointed ears. Striped fox ears.

  The earth shifted beneath Selena’s feet. She choked, “What the hell is this shit?”

  Chapter Two

  Thompson uttered a choking sound, as if she fought not to bray laughter. “Allow me to introduce Arga Bolep from the planet Risnar. Arga, this is—uh, Boom-Boom Baumer. Hell, Baumer, I don’t know your first name.”

  Too confused to do anything except answer, the stunned woman told them, “It’s Selena. My first name is Selena.”

  The striped man—was that a mohawk or a mane standing up between those startling ears? —pressed his palm to his chest. Selena noticed he had only two fingers. He spoke garbled gibberish, then the words became understandable. “From my spirit to yours, I wish you peace all your days, Sah-leener Boom-Boom Baumer.”

  It took Selena a moment to realize the English had emitted from one of the devices on his utility belt. He was superhero-ready. Stripy-er than a tiger. Able to make somewhat sensible women doubt their sanity in a single instant.

  “Uh. Um.” Selena gawked at the creature that her brain insisted could not be there. “Thanks?”

  Arga Bowlegs, or whatever he called himself, dipped a nod. He looked her over with the same interest, though not the same disbelief, with which she stared at him. Usually, people stared at her hair. Dyed deep blue at the roots, fading to white at the mousse-spiked tips, it made an impression. But not with the alien. Maybe blue-to-white hair was the norm on his planet.

  Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he walked about, examining his surroundings. When he strayed close to the pool’s edge, Selena warned, “You might not want to wander too close to the puddle there, uh, mister. Never can tell what’s hanging around.”

  He offered an absentminded wave and continued acting like a tourist. He put his back to her. His mane, definitely a mane, not a punk hairstyle, extended down between his shoulder blades.

  And damn, that ass. Definitely too much butt crack going on to not be naked. But then, where was his man-stuff?

  Not liking the turn her curiosity was taking—Earth had been invaded and she was wondering about alien sex organs, not a good thing, nope, not at all—Selena directed her attention to Thompson.

  The other woman had closed the distance so she could whisper to Selena. “An eyeful, isn’t he? Most of the Risnarish men are. In response to the intimate question you managed not to ask, it grows on demand.”

  “Whoa.” Selena gave Arga another wide-eyed inspection. The alien was examining a cattail. He sniffed it, then tried an exploratory lick. His nose wrinkled, and he shoved it aside.

  “Anyway, now that you doubt your sanity, prepare for things to get worse. Another bunch of aliens called the Monsuda are preparing to invade Earth. They’ll take it too, killing and enslaving our people in the process.”

  “Wait, we really are being invaded?”

  “Not yet. But it’s coming if we don’t do something to stop them.” Arga turned from his examination of swamp plants to answer her.

  Once more, her gaze went to his crotch. Come on, Baumer, pull it together. Stop watching for surprise party favors to jump out.

  She gazed in a safe direction, at Thompson. “I’ve gone crazy. Funny, that. The bullshit with my parents and the cult didn’t do it; watching people blow themselves and others to kingdom come didn’t do it; destroying my military career didn’t do it; but being fired today finally pitched me over the edge. It’s interesting, don’t you think?”

  Thompson squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. “Focus, Boom-Boom. I know the situation is out there, but—”

  She was cut off by crashing from the grasses. Arga uttered a startled noise and staggered. An alligator, easily four feet not counting the tail, clung to his calf. It wriggled and snapped, as if fighting to find a better grip.

  Thompson shouted and yanked her flashlight off her belt. Instinct took over for Selena, and she forgot all concerns about naked aliens and losing her mind. She ran at the alligator, her bat up and ready to bash.

  A striped snake shot out of Arga’s ass. Selena reversed gears and ran backwards, away from alien and serpent.

  She didn’t turn from the bizarre scene, watching it play out. The snake’s end looped around the ‘gator’s midsection. It whipped the reptile into the air and released it. The alligator was airborne against the purplish sky for an instant before it disappeared into the darkness. A loud splash announced its landing.

  The snake, hanging onto the alien’s backside, slithered into his butt again. Selena tripped and sat on the ground, mud oozing into the fabric of her jeans as she gaped at Arga.

  Not a snake, you idiot. That was a tail. He grew a tail, then he un-grew it. Thompson wasn’t kidding about that on-demand crap.

  An honest-to-goodness tail. Which was better than an interstellar being who unleashed ass-python attacks on his foes. Much cooler, worthy of a family-friendly flick one could take the kiddies to.

  Thompson shook her head at Arga. “A little rough on the poor thing, weren’t you? You threw him halfway to Georgia.”

  Arga frowned, checking his leg. His non-bleeding, unmarked leg. His expression turned contrite, and his ears flattened with embarrassment as he spoke to Selena. “I hope it didn’t break a tooth. My apologies if that creature was a friend of yours. You don’t think I hurt it, do you?”

  * * * *

  Selena eyed the silent craft floating down from the darkened sky toward them. “That’s a flying saucer.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Thompson was more interested in the stars overhead.

  “Technically, it’s a collection pod. The Monsuda used it to collect lab subjects among your people. Anneliese was one of those.”

  Arga’s words drifted past Selena, mattering little as she watched the circular object send down the central portion of its flat bottom to nestle in the sawgrass. She watched the spacecraft, but strangely enough, her attention riveted on the warmth the alien’s body radiated. Warm, self-armoring flesh, capable of fending off the bites of toothy reptiles. He stood next to her, his woodsy scent clean and fresh compared to the briny vegetation aroma exuded by the marsh.

  Realizing she was far too aware of the alien man, of not only his scent but all those delectable swells of muscle within grabbing range, Selena focused on the matters that should have been uppermost on her mind. “I’m not crazy? Not hallucinating?”

  “Afraid not. This is as real as it gets,” Thompson assured her.

  “You expect me to get in that, go with you to Rushmore—”

  “Risnar.” Arga’s tenor rumbled pleasantly in her ear.

  “Risnar,” Thompson echoed.

  “Risnar. And help you stop a hostile alien invasion of Earth.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “By exploding shit.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Uh-huh. You know, I have the chance to go to Vegas. I’ve been invited to explode shit there.”

  “Yeah? Risnar is more interesting.”

  “I could see some great shows between demolitions in Vegas.”

  “But lose your shirt at the poker tables.”

  “Blackjack. I play blackjack. I could go to Vegas, blow shit up, watch the shows, get fat at the all-you-can-eat buffets, and lose my shirt at the blackjack tables.”

  She felt Arga shift next to her, sensed him looking. “Is that your only shirt? I was under the impression that Earthlings had many.”

 
“Good point. I could lose all my shirts playing blackjack. I have faith in my gambling abilities for that. I’ll end up broke, fat and topless, but still on Mother Earth where I belong.”

  Thompson laughed, but she was relentless. “Or you could go to an alien planet, blow shit up, meet new and interesting people, drink brew, and protect dear old Mother Earth from her enemies. And keep your top on.”

  “You sound like my Army recruiter. Exactly like my Army recruiter. Word for word, especially the part about keeping my top on.”

  Selena thought about turning her back on the flying saucer, on calm and cool Anneliese Thompson, on Arga with his exotic dancer’s body and ‘gator tossing tail. She should run her ass to the truck before Triple A arrived to pick the F-150 up and drive it to her apartment.

  It was the perfect plan, far better than climbing into the saucer and zooming off through a wormhole to another galaxy. Change into the extra clothes she kept in the truck—hey, exploding stuff was a messy business, and she liked to hit the bars in dirt-free duds after work. After that, she’d wave goodbye to Thompson and Arga, floor the accelerator all the way home. Finish drinking her beer, find more beer to drink, and keep drinking while she waited for the call that would send her to the bright lights of the Vegas strip.

  She did go to the truck. She did change her jeans. Then she zipped up the rest of her clean clothes in her duffle bag. She carried it and the remainder of the six pack to the platform where the other two waited for her. As they rose into the air on the circular disc, heading up to the waiting saucer, Selena congratulated herself on not wetting her nice clean pants.

  “I’ve returned to thinking I’m insane.”

  “You are, but the spaceship is real.” Thompson was cheerful, smiling hugely in the glow from the saucer’s opening.

  “Along with the alien man who just invented the game of tossing alligators with his tail.”

  “He’s super real.”

  Selena gazed up at Arga. He looked back and grinned. Handsome creature, even considering the stripes, zebra mane, and silver eyes with eight-pointed stars for pupils. Too damned handsome by far, now that she was getting a better look at him, close to the spaceship’s light. Her pulse quickened.

  “Yeah. He’s super real.”

  * * * *

  Arga thought he knew a thing or two about Earthling women. He’d gotten well acquainted with the three females from the alien planet who lived on Risnar. He counted them as good friends. Though Jeannie, Velia, and Anneliese were different from each other in significant ways, they still had a lot in common.

  This Boom-Boom, however—he didn’t know what to make of the blue-eyed female who behaved with four times the force her tiny stature should have possessed.

  Anneliese had come up with the idea to take Boom-Boom for an evening out as soon as they reached his home planet through the portal that linked Earth and Risnar. “Let her experience the Risnarish capital of Yitrow and get acquainted with its residents. She should see the side she’s fighting for,” had been the female warrior’s advice. “Once Boom-Boom understands how terrific the Risnarish are, she’ll be more dedicated to stopping the Monsuda for all our sakes.”

  It had sounded like a good plan. They’d arrived on Risnar too late in the day for Boom-Boom to start her assignment. Dinner, maybe a few cups of brew, and some music would be a suitable introduction to Risnarish culture.

  A couple hours after dinner and more than a few cups of brew into the night, Arga wasn’t sure Risnarish culture had been granted a suitable introduction to Boom-Boom before she walloped it with her presence.

  Walking into one of Yitrow’s squares, the Earthling had been sedate enough. Quiet, as she tried to absorb the turn of events that had swept her from her world to another she’d never suspected existed. They’d sat in the courtyard before an outdoor stage, in the midst of several domed shops and cafes that served food and ale.

  “Like a medieval town center, sort of,” she’d murmured. “Or maybe more along the lines of an old-fashioned European village square. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah. The Risnarish live simply compared to U.S. cities,” Anneliese had agreed. “The smaller villages are even more countrylike, heavy on the agriculture. The technology is amazing no matter where you go.”

  Boom-Boom had goggled frankly at the muscled Risnarish men and willowy females who walked by and acknowledged her with friendly interest. She whispered to Anneliese in frequent consultation as she worked to get her bearings.

  Nex, Anneliese’s lover and an old friend of Arga’s, had shown up following his shift at the portal chamber, where the saucer-shaped collection pod was docked. Having met Boom-Boom when she’d arrived, friendly olive-green Nex was his usual relaxed self, drawing the visitor out in easy conversation as they decided on dinner.

  Perhaps it had been the four beers the initially curious but withdrawn Boom-Boom had drunk. Or maybe the Risnarish ales that followed her Earthling drinks. Most likely, it was the combination that turned her into the creature Arga sat next to three hours later. There had been a lot of drinks. Boom-Boom had transformed into a being of loudness and excitement and outrageous speech that made him glad most of the Risnarish didn’t wear translators.

  He wasn’t certain whether to be amused or shocked as she belted out ribald lyrics she called limericks in tune with the band that played on the stage. When she wasn’t wailing in her thin, warbling alto, Boom-Boom told off-color jokes that left Anneliese screaming with laughter and Nex gaping in disbelief before he too roared. Although Arga guffawed with the same stunned hilarity as Nex, the outrageousness of Boom-Boom’s antics concerned him.

  He leaned toward Anneliese as Boom-Boom shimmied in overt appreciation of the tune being played, much to the delight of nearby onlookers. “She is—ah—livelier than I expected.”

  “Yeah, well, Boom-Boom is her own animal. Though some guys in her company told me she started off quiet and reserved. Hard to believe, huh?”

  Indeed, it was hard to believe she’d ever been sedate. Arga hadn’t met anyone so loud before, whether Earthling or Risnarish. Not even Anneliese, as tough as any man and not afraid to indulge in impressive quantities of brew, came close to being as extroverted as Boom-Boom.

  Openly assessing Arga’s demeanor, Anneliese attempted to draw Boom-Boom into some semblance of control. “Hey woman, tell me some of the stuff I missed after my early exit from Afghanistan.”

  Boom-Boom fell into her seat. “Oh, have I got stories for you. Lemme tell you about the time I stormed into a bath house, responding to a report of hidden explosives. It’s beyond belief that the locals didn’t gouge my eyeballs out. I saw things—well, obviously, I saw things—but those are beside the point.”

  Anneliese shrieked with half-delight, half-horror and shoved food from their communal tray into the other female’s mouth until Boom-Boom choked. “I’m not interested in those kinds of stories. I especially do not want to hear about men’s bath houses. I meant our troops, the COs, that kind of stuff.”

  As Boom-Boom chewed furiously to empty her mouth, her cheeks distended, Arga leaned close to Anneliese again. “Look, I trust you. No doubt she’s the expert you say she is. But is she safe?”

  Anneliese’s chuckle failed to ease his concerns. “Sweetie, she was EOD, and she volunteered for three deployments.” At his confused expression, she explained. “Boom-Boom was part of Explosives Ordinance Disposal. It was her job to walk up to ticking timebombs and keep them from blowing up. She put her life on the line to save others on an almost daily basis. More importantly, she did that job in a place where women weren’t supposed to do what we did, among people who didn’t want us there. Of course she’s not safe.”

  “That’s not particularly reassuring.”

  “Sorry. I thought you’d prefer the truth. You said you needed the best explosives expert I knew. You never said a word about her being well-adjusted.”

  Unaware of their whispered conversation, Boom-Boom stood up and started singing
again. “Oh, there was a gal from Carolina/who had the world’s biggest vagi—”

  “Weh, sit down! No one wants to listen to you screech.” Anneliese’s shout managed to drown Boom-Boom out. Nex laughed so hard, he nearly fell out of his seat and onto the paved courtyard.

  Arga’s concerns mounted higher. Worry warred against his growing fascination with the tiny woman who possessed such a huge presence.

  * * * *

  Arga sank into his soft bed with relief. He gazed at the blue gas giant Cadi that hung in the night sky, visible through the clear panes of the domed roof over his head. What a day it had been. He was still reeling from his evening with Boom-Boom.

  Once more, he was assailed with concerns about her ability to assist in the war he was tasked with waging. Boom-Boom’s abilities as an explosives expert were an important factor in finishing the conflict with the Monsuda. She might even be the key to saving both worlds.

  Over the centuries, the Risnarish had concentrated most of their resources on defensive measures, rather than offense against their enemy. It had become of paramount importance to locate a warrior capable of setting explosives with pinpoint accuracy. While the Risnarish knew how to use blasting techniques in order to mine for precious ores, the weaponized expertise the Earthlings had was superior.

  He checked the time. It was getting late, but he judged it early enough to call and check on the man who had raised him. Retav tended not to sleep well anyway, and Arga wanted to hear his guardian’s voice after his troubling evening with Boom-Boom.

  Leading a war effort was anxiety-provoking in any case. The wild Earthling had added to his nervousness. Not that he planned to discuss her with Retav.

  A woman answered his summons. “At this hour, I’m guessing that I’m talking to Arga.”

  “May you know peace all your days, Velia. How are you?”