Asmodel (Alien Legacy Brotherhood #2)

3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A smodel never expected cheering crowds or bands playing the first time he stepped on an alien planet. But for the love of a motherless goat , he’d have given anything to avoid this hellhole. The smell alone was enough to make him want to run back into the spaceship and head straight to Earth. Taking a shallow breath, he narrowed his eyes and studied his surroundings.

“Holy shit, what a dump.” Arakiba scowled with his fists on his hips. “I bet this place didn’t look any better before it fell apart.”

“Agreed.” Asmodel humphed.

“This is not an appropriate place to remain,” JR13 whispered into Asmodel’s ear from his perch between the man’s neck and shoulder. “It may cause irreparable harm to your inferior organic systems the longer we remain.”

Blunt, but true. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning synthetic materials and the putrid tang of decay that seeped into his very pores.

The closer he and his brothers got to the sprawling ghetto of a village, the more it reminded him of a festering wound clinging desperately to life. As they journeyed into the village, the collage of mismatched buildings became clearer. Their state of dilapidation might have once gleamed with the promise of a utopia, but now stood in ruins. Their facades crumbled, as if weeping for lost glory.

Narrow alleys snaked between these husks, choked with refuse and the desperate forms of its inhabitants. Those souls moved like shadows, their eyes hollow with defeat and their bodies draped in tatters, embodying the despair that hung over the place like a shroud.

Asmodel’s heart clenched at the sight, his psionic senses heavy with the unspoken stories of struggle and loss that emanated from the very buildings around him. It was a place abandoned by hope, where survival was a daily battle and the specter of despair an ever-present companion.

“Let’s hope we’re not here long.” Asmodel spoke low to JR13. “Let me know if you sense any threats coming our way.”

“Affirmative.” JR13 agreed.

“Do you think that’s where we should go?” Azazel pointed at a wide building with a massive doorway, its broken doors hanging lopsidedly on the edges.

“Yes,” JR13 told him. “I sense this was the key hub of this provincial community.”

Asmodel grunted and followed his brothers. Once he passed the threshold, the shadowed light made him pause to give himself a chance to get used to the dimness.

“By Tiamat’s titties! I wonder what these babies did when they were awake.” Arakiba chuckled, staring at a shocking-pink robot in obvious female form lying on the ground.

Various robots in obnoxious neon colors lined the path to the building’s entrance. They stood or lay on the ground, even inside, unmoving, as if someone switched them off.

“JR15 tells me they are called sexbots, from a dead gangster named Dread Pirate Maynwaring, who ran this disreputable planet with strict, oppressive control,” JR13 supplied. “He programmed these droids to give sexual pleasure to several humanoid species.” The tiny creature huffed. “Why advanced units like these androids would willingly provide organics with sexual pleasure is beyond me.”

Asmodel watched Abalim chastise Arakiba into leaving the prone sex-droid alone. “Who knows?” He wasn’t interested in getting into a lengthy discussion with his bot about the need for most organic beings to procreate. Now, or ever, if he was honest.

“Are you sure this is the place that the human Althea said they held her prisoner?” Azazel asked Abalim. He glanced around. “I can’t imagine them surviving in this sea of disarray.”

Asmodel had to agree. The room was bare except for smashed furniture and broken robots.

He eyed an open hallway to the right, then spied another on the left. “Which way?”

“You two go that way.” Abalim pointed to the right. “Azazel and I’ll go this way.” He thumbed over his left shoulder. “If you find anything, have your JR bots tell ours.”

Why would Abalim have the bots do that instead of using their shared psychic link? Oh well, maybe he just wanted to make the little guys feel useful.

Arakiba smiled at Asmodel. “Come on, bro. Let’s see what we can find.”

He frowned at Arakiba’s mischievous smile and glowered at his brother. “No funny stuff, bro. ” He’d better keep an eye on his easily distracted brother to make sure he stayed focused on what they were there for. It’s not like they’d find anything useful. Looked like everything worth taking was already gone.

“You sense anyone here?” While his psionic abilities were strong enough to detect any living creature within these walls, he asked Arakiba, whose strength in other areas might pick up something different.

“Nah, just us and the two oldsters goin’ the other way.” Arakiba whistled and put one of his hands into the back pocket of the black jeans he wore. He sauntered ahead as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Asmodel glanced around the dark corridor and created a ball of light on his palm for illumination.

Arakiba chucked. “Sucka! How can we sneak around in the dark when you brightened everything up?”

Asmodel ignored his brother’s banter. “How about you, JR13?” He nodded to his companion on his right shoulder. “You picking up anything online?”

“I am not,” came the bot’s terse reply. “I assure you, I will inform you if that changes.”

The steady light shone on the empty cages made of clear walls. Several of the neon sexbots were motionless, either standing or stiffly sitting on the ground with their backs to the walls. He stepped over a badly scratched green one with its eyes plucked out.

All too soon, they came across Abalim and Azazel. Asmodel closed his palm to extinguish the light.

“How did you get here so fast?” Azazel raised an eyebrow at them.

Arakiba grinned with his arms crossed. “Place is just a round hallway with a lot of little rooms like this one. All are empty, just a few droids scattered around like that one.” He pointed at a red sexbot on the floor with its hand extended.

With a chuckle, Arakiba stepped into the room and froze.

Asmodel almost ran into him. With a scowl, he sidestepped around his brother and glanced back, then noticed the man’s frozen expression. Damn. A vision must have caught him. A deep one from the looks of it. “What do you suppose he’s looking…”

He never finished his sentence as a vision captured him as well. He found himself swept into the psychic plane along with his brothers. They were still in the cell on FiPan, but sometime in the past. The force field was up, and five women were crammed into the small room.

“Where do you think we are?” Well, that was stupid. Why ask? He knew perfectly well they’d picked up a psychic thread leftover from the women.

“Where do you think we are, dumbass…” Arakiba stopped in mid-sentence when his focus narrowed in on one woman.

Asmodel frowned as Arakiba’s eyes lost all color. That told him his brother was lost on a deeper plane of consciousness. Caught up in another type of vision that only Arakiba could see. He blinked, then he too was swept into a different vision.

He drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the alluring woman before him, her lush body enveloped in a wispy fog. Her umber-brown hair blended with the warm, smooth olive tone of her skin. Wide, intelligent cognac-brown eyes gazed at him, filled with longing. Her expression was beseeching, arms outstretched, silently begging him to come to her.

“Who are you?” he croaked before clearing his throat. Her apparition yanked at his heart as if his soul recognized hers.

“Where are you?” He clenched his jaw as the urgent need to find her overwhelmed him. Everything narrowed to one instinct—to find her now, before it was too late.

“I’m… sure… but I’m… planet… CeluriaVO.” Each word came out broken, like a cell phone with a poor reception. She dropped her arms and glanced behind her. “Hurry… Krystalii… coming!”

Her misty figure faded.

“Wait!” he yelled, stretching out his arm to grab her. But the only thing he caught was air as his hand passed through her misty form.

“I… am… Izzy…! Please… find me!”

She disappeared.

The haunting image of the terror on her face would torment him for the rest of his life.

“Hey, organic man!”

The metallic voice of JR13 jerked Asmodel to awareness.

“What is wrong with you?” the droid demanded.

Asmodel shuddered and blinked himself back to reality. While the vision felt genuine enough, it wasn’t something that happened in the past. It was more of a premonition. Gulping a deep breath, he glanced at the spider-bot on his shoulder. “I’m fine.” He straightened his shoulders. “Got caught up in a vision, that’s all.”

“Oh?” The voice of the bot rose an octave. “Is that something you normally suffer from?”

Asmodel inhaled through his nose before blowing out through his mouth. He wasn’t used to being questioned about every little thing he did since he escaped Akurn slavery. He had to remind himself that as a newly made bot, JR13 would have a tendency to ask a lot of questions. “Not as much as some of my brothers. But when it involves me directly, I do.”

“Fascinating.” JR13 scuttled to the end of his shoulder.

The bot’s tiny, pointed feet tickled.

“Did you ascertain anything interesting?” JR13 cocked his head, his bulbous eyes roaming over Asmodel as if examining him under a microscope.

Ignoring the question, Asmodel closed his eyes and opened his senses to see if there was anything lurking on the esoteric plane. An image of a dilapidated pub on FiPan came to mind. He sensed he had to go there to find the transportation he needed.

Shit. Just great. Looked like he wasn’t going to leave this goddess-forsaken planet any time soon. “Yeah, I did. We’ve got to go somewhere else in the village.”

“That should be interesting.” the bot replied. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Asmodel snorted and glanced at his brothers.

Azazel stood with his hands behind his back, a serene expression on his face. His gentle eyes softened as he gave a slight nod.

One thing Asmodel admired about Azazel was how hard it was to get him riled up. The man was as unflappable as a statue in a windstorm, no matter how hard Arakiba tried to get under his skin.

Speaking of Arakiba, the man was rapidly blinking as if coming out of his own vision.

Asmodel went to him and wrapped his hand around his brother’s upper arm just in case he had a hard time coming back to reality. “You okay?” Despite Arakiba’s laid-back, carefree attitude that often drove him nuts, he couldn’t help but worry about the guy.

Arakiba shuddered, his gray eyes still unfocused. He blinked and patted Asmodel’s hand on his arm. “Yeah, I’m okay, bro.” He smirked and gave him a wink. “It’s all good.”

Asmodel dropped his hold. He hated being called bro.

“Were you able to get a link on any of the women?” Azazel asked in his serene tone with his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, shot right to one of ‘em.” Arakiba’s hand whooshed upward. “I know just how to get to a gal named Morgan. You guys?” He crossed his arms with a smile.

“I did.” Asmodel nodded. “I even think I know how to get to the woman named Izzy.”

“The woman who called to me is named Tony.” Azazel nodded. “Since we’ve all had visions of different women, I believe it’d be best if we split up to search for them.”

He glanced at Abalim’s still form. “I wonder why he’s still in a trance.”

Arakiba frowned. “Think he’s okay?”

Abalim groaned and shuddered.

Ah, looked like the man was coming out of his trance. Asmodel crossed his arms with a frown. It wasn’t like Abalim to get lost on the psychic plane. What if one of those crystal aliens from another dimension somehow grabbed him?

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Abalim narrowed his eyes and growled at them.

“What took you so long?”

Asmodel couldn’t help the harshness of his words. The habit of worrying about all his brothers was hard to break. It was a deeply ingrained result of being raised as slaves by those sadistic Akurn scientists.

“Our visions weren’t nearly as long.” Asmodel waved between himself and his other two brothers. “We don’t have all day to wait for you, you know.”

The indulgent expression on Abalim’s face made his own heat. He lowered his arms.

“The three of us have locked onto the psychic trails of the other women who were here. We need to separate and find them before the trail grows cold.”

Asmodel didn’t like it when Azazel and Arakiba teleported out of the cell on their own. The entire situation was nerve-wracking. The only reason he didn’t stop them was he’d kept a small thread of their psychic connection embedded in the back of his mind. Without another word, he followed Abalim out of the FiPan prison.

Once outside, he maintained a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Despite not displaying any weapons, he and Abalim still caused the natives to keep a wide berth. The most threatening thing they came across was a pack of canid-looking animals. Their fur, matted and patchy, bore the signs of the village’s pervasive filth. With eerie synchronization, they prowled in silence, following the two of them. With a gentle psychic push, he sent the leader a wave of calm, giving him a suggestion they hunt elsewhere.

The alpha narrowed his white eyes with a snort. With a threatening growl showcasing dull fangs, he gave a brief nod before running away, his pack close behind.

Maybe when all this was over, he’d come back to help the abused and neglected animals on this planet.

“I believe there is an establishment ahead that might aid you in finding the transportation you seek,” JR13 offered.

“If not, at least we can ask someone.” Asmodel mumbled.

As they approached the only lighted building on the street, Asmodel paused. “With any luck, this is the place.”

The harsh environment had weathered and worn the exterior, which blended seamlessly with the surrounding decay. Graffiti adorned the walls over paint faded under the relentless sun.

Makeshift lights, cobbled together from scavenged parts, hung above the entrance sign, casting a weak glow onto the uneven, cracked pavement below.

Patched metal and remnants of other building materials reinforced the main door. A series of mismatched windows, some clear, others opaque with age, allowed brief glimpses of the lively camaraderie inside. The muffled sounds of laughter and music could be heard, while spirited debates echoed into the dark street.

At the entrance stood a massive humanoid guard who gave them a steady glare. When they approached, he didn’t say a word, just kept his steely three-eyed gaze fixated on them as they crossed the threshold.

Inside, the pub was a stark contrast to the biting despair outside. The air was thick with the aroma of spiced meats and hearty stews simmering in the kitchen, layered with the sweet undertones of fermented brews. The vapor from oil lamps and the occasional whiff of some type of recreational smoke added an earthy depth that gave the place rustic comfort. An occasional draft from the patched-up windows and door caused a decided chill that the small fire pits dotted around the room couldn’t warm.

Laughter and conversations of clandestine agreements permeated around them. Dark figures lurked in the shadows as grizzled space mercenaries made deals with enigmatic beings cloaked in hoods. A band of multi-limbed musicians on an elevated stage occupied one corner. The sounds were disorienting instead of soothing.

Asmodel wasn’t fooled. No one missed the moment he and his brother entered. Even without using his psionic perception, he sensed keen eyes fixated on them. Violence might not be tolerated here, but that wouldn’t protect them once they left.

He glanced around the busy room. Yeah, this felt right. The person who was supposed to help him was here.

Asmodel stayed vigilant, his eyes scanning the room full of aliens. He focused on those with a dangerous vibe, sensing the greed and anticipation swirling around him like a palpable force. “Arakiba would love this place,” he told Abalim.

“No doubt.” His brother agreed and headed to an open space at the bar.

“How is Abalim going to converse with that alien being?” JR13 asked from his perch on Asmodel’s shoulder.

“We were injected with a universal translator by the Zerin before we left.” Asmodel stood behind his brother and watched the room with his arms crossed. No need to invite someone to sneak up on Abalim and try to steal from him. Or stab him in the back for fun.

“Yes, patron? How may I assist?”

Asmodel couldn’t watch the bartender when he spoke, but winced at the lyrical tone the large being had. The pitch was just high enough to give him a headache.

“I’m looking for Captain Saphira. Would you know if she’s here?”

Asmodel jerked and glanced at the back of Abalim’s head. Who in the hell was Captain Saphira?

A small alien with a billowing cloak approached, heading straight for Abalim. The short, wiry creature was around three feet tall with a hoodie over its head, leaving a good portion of his face hidden in the depths. Visible was the creature’s mottled facial skin in a putrid shade of green with scaly patches. Large bug eyes with irises in a strange mixture of orange and red gleamed with intelligence.

Since Asmodel didn’t sense any hostilities from it, he moved to the side and let the creature stand at Abalim’s back. Served the ass right for not filling him in on whoever this captain was.

“What do yer want ‘er for?”

When Abalim jumped in surprise, Asmodel snorted.

He got a glare from his brother.

I think Arakiba is rubbing off on you. Abalim’s tone had a slight warning to it.

Asmodel shrugged. Not my fault your JR is falling down on the job. Hey, he wasn’t the only one who was supposed to protect Abalim.

After giving Asmodel a dry glare, Abalim turned to the little alien. “Rerqel from Qorath sent me here to obtain passage to their planet from her.”

“Fer the both o’ ya?” The alien glanced at Asmodel before turning back to Abalim.

A strong negative psychic wave hit Asmodel before the alien spoke his last word. His head jerked up as he took in his surroundings. Something tugged him in the opposite direction. “No. My path lies elsewhere,” he murmured.

This time a separate force from the front door told him time was running out.

“As a matter of fact, my destiny just arrived.”

Without looking back, instinct led him to the far corner of the room, away from the front.

You going to be okay? Abalim asked on their private telepathic connection.

Yes, don’t worry. Everything is fine. The sense he was going in the right direction became stronger. I expected things to turn out this way. I’ll keep our pathway open.

Focusing on what was ahead, Asmodel left his brother behind.

Izzy struggled to wake up. Good grief. Her head pounded like Evelyn was stomping through the halls of the library in one of her fits of fury. Groggily, she peeled her eyes open, and her vision swam, trying to focus. She moaned as shots of pain all over her body clamored for attention. Her right hip screamed at the abuse it suffered from lying on something sharp. Her arm under her agreed as her elbow throbbed in agony. She rolled onto her back. A little better. She could even pry her eyes open now.

At first, it was hard to understand the fuzzy kaleidoscope of unfamiliar hues weaving in and out of her vision. Putting her arm over her eyes to stop them from tearing, she noticed something else. The ground she lay on was not the cold metal of the suffocating stasis pod that a strange but cute little creature put her in when he stole her from her cell on FiPan.

Flinging her arm away, she blinked at the disorientation and sighed as her vision cleared. Sucking in a breath, her eyes widened at the sky above her. It was a work of art that reminded her of the famous paintings of Jason Pollock or Cy Twombly. Instead of one color, several unusual swaths of various hues blended into the canopy high above her.

Izzy pushed herself to sit, her heart pounding. Okay, good. That worked. The consuming, blinding pain turned into a dull throb. Taking in a deep breath, she tasted the clear but unfamiliar scents coating the back of her tongue. Around her was a chorus of eerie sounds from foreign animals and insects, creating a symphony in the distance all around her.

A sizzling sound popped and made her jump. Oh dear. It looked like the small ship she had been in was a goner. Broken in half, the front was smashed beyond repair. Plumes of smoke rose as sparks flared on and off, landing on the lush flora around her. Glancing around, she didn’t see the short fuzzy guy who kidnapped her anywhere. Her throat closed as tears gathered. Poor little thing. He must’ve gotten trapped in the ship and died inside.

The ship rumbled and the pungent scent of fuel made her scramble to her feet. Not taking any chances, she raced to hide behind the nearest tree. She made it before that part of the small ship exploded. Keeping herself flush against the protective surface of the rough bark, she winced when metallic debris flew past her and embedded in other trees and the ground. Gulping in deep breaths, it took a moment before Izzy realized the tree protecting her was unlike any other she’d seen before.

Pushing away from the bark, she looked up and gasped. Instead of a linear trunk reaching for the sky, this one had a spiraling pattern, its branches and trunk twisting skyward in helical shapes. It didn’t have leaves. This plant bore thin, flexible… feathers? All different colors and textures. Where her fingers braced against the wide trunk, the smooth surface had a warm, rubbery feel, and the color changed from stark eggplant purple to a light violet. She yanked her hands back, which left an outline of her palms behind. Her eyes widened when the image faded away, leaving the original color behind. She stepped back, and her heel snagged on a raised limb. She pinwheeled wildly before regaining her footing. Whew. She put a hand over her heart. That was close. Last thing she needed was to break something since she was stuck here all alone.

Oh, lordy. Alone. She was all alone.

Sniffling back unwelcome tears, Izzy straightened her shoulders. This wasn’t the time to feel sorry for herself. With determination, she studied everything around her with a more critical eye. First things first. Was she hurt anywhere? Closing her eyes, she rubbed her arms as she paid attention to her body. Nothing but a few scratches and bruises. She opened her eyes. Good. As the old saying went, if you had your health, you had everything.

She glanced around with a rueful smile. Well, not everything. She must be on an alien planet with no food, no shelter, and no friends. No telling if there were any intelligent beings around or if only dangerous animals roamed about. She shivered. First things first, she’d better find some kind of shelter. Taking a chance, she peeked around the wide trunk of the tree. The smoldering ruins of the craft left little hope anything survived. The surrounding foliage was ablaze, making any attempt to approach it ridiculous.

“What are you?”

The raspy, masculine voice behind her made her jump. She spun around and slapped a hand over her thudding heart. The sounds in the jungle faded into the background.

Standing at the edge of a clearing stood something she couldn’t have imagined in her wildest fantasies. There stood a humanoid creature on two legs with a sleek muscular form clad in hunting attire that melded into the shadows and light of the alien wilderness. But having two legs and arms was where any resemblance to a human ended. The face of the masculine creature displayed striking features of his feline ancestry with the concentrated expression of humanoid intelligence. Covering his body was a canvas of soft, short fur of a dark midnight blue marked with subtle orange stripes, like a tiger but sleeker. High cheekbones, accentuated by a snout complete with light-orange whiskers, gave his face a noble, almost regal appearance. His lustrous, streamlined look reminded her of a panther.

The creature’s eyes were large and expressive, rimmed with a hint of exotic emerald-green irises and vertical pupils, reminiscent of a predatory heritage. His pointed ears were mobile, swiveling around as if to catch the various sounds around them.

There was deliberate patience in this creature’s stance, a careful assessment in his gaze that spoke of curiosity rather than hostility. The subtle tilt of his head, the slight relaxation of his posture as he observed her, made her think he wasn’t going to harm her. At least not yet. But she didn’t doubt for one minute that if he thought she was dangerous, he’d have no trouble using that large bow-like weapon slung in a harness across his back.

Keeping a wary eye on him, Izzy concluded this was someone who was as much a part of this world as the trees and the sky. If she was lucky, he might be some type of guardian, like a forest ranger of sorts.

My goodness. Did he say something she understood? Oh, that’s right. The Zerins injected her with some kind of translation serum when she agreed to join the Exchange. “I beg your pardon?” She laced her fingers over her throat.

“I said—” The creature crossed his muscular arms and slightly narrowed his eyes. The slight smirk on his thin, black lips told her he wasn’t threatening her. “—what are you?”

She ran a hand down her worn-and-tattered clothes. At least most of her outfit survived. Flipping her hair behind her, she threw her shoulders back and gave him a little wave with a tremulous smile. “Hi! My name is Izzy, and I’m a human from Earth.” Lordy, she never thought she’d ever introduce herself as a human.

The creature’s brows rose. “Earth? Are you talking about the forbidden planet at the edge of the galaxy?”

“Yes!” she squealed. “You know about Earth?”

He snorted, his wide nostrils quivering. “Of course.” He put his hands on his trim hips.

For the first time, she noticed he had extended short claws.

“As part of the Federation Consortium, we scikvak are well aware of any planets under a protective order.” He tilted his head. “So, how did a human from Earth end up here?”

Izzy nodded. “I… I’m not sure.” She glanced around and rubbed her upper arms. “Last thing I knew, I was being kidnapped from FiPan by some fuzzy little alien. Where am I?”

“Welcome to the planet CeluriaVO, my lady.” He gave a short bow with his fist over his chest. “I am Jaltaar of the house of Zarvix from the city of Panterion Prime at your service.”

A psychic tug pulled Asmodel in a specific direction, toward a dark, hidden corner at the other side of the tavern. He left his brother behind and tromped through the crowd of aliens, weaving through a cacophony of dialects that mingled with the pungent aroma of exotic scents. When he squeezed through a compact group, he tripped into an open space the other patrons had given a wide berth.

Once he oriented himself, his eyes widened at what lounged in a corner booth, half hidden in the shadows. There sat something, or rather someone, he never imagined he’d ever see this far from Earth.

A human.

A human male. There were many humanoids in the galaxy that looked like humans, and with his psionic sense, Asmodel had no trouble telling the difference. But this guy, this guy was one hundred percent human from Earth.

Sitting in a disreputable tavern surrounded by aliens of all shapes and sizes.

Asmodel stood at the edge of the man's table with a wide stance and crossed arms.

The man appeared to be in his prime with a rugged air that spoke volumes of his survival and resilience. His attire, a mix of practicality and style, included a weathered leather jacket that had seen better days, over a dark, form-fitting shirt. Hard to tell what else he wore since he sat behind a thick, round wooden scruffy table that hid the rest of him. His psychic sense picked up an unknown type of weapon under there, aimed in Asmodel’s direction with a steady hand.

“Tell me, what’s a human from Earth doing here?” Asmodel narrowed his eyes at the rugged figure. He examined the man’s aura, trying to absorb as much about him as he could through silent inquiry. He did the same to the small group of aliens behind him. What he got was they wanted nothing to do with the notorious figure sitting by himself. Not sure why. The guy didn’t seem all that dangerous sitting there all by himself.

The man eyed Asmodel with a smirk, lounging with his free arm across the back of the booth as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What’s it to ya?” The man’s gravelly drawl was a sharp contrast to the boisterous hum of the muffled conversations around them.

“I am interested in hiring you to take me to CeluriaVO.” Asmodel laced his tone with firm confidence and an underlying layer of urgency. He stepped closer to the booth to get a better sense of the man. What he picked up was a bit of a surprise. A tinge of panic from the guy belied his nonchalant attitude.

“What?” The man cocked his head. “I look like a cab to you?”

Asmodel studied the throbbing vein at the side of the guy’s flushed neck. How interesting. Fear oozed from his pores.

“Organic man,” JR13 whispered. “I believe there are several hostiles headed to this establishment. I overheard them saying they were eager to claim a bounty on this human. You’d better advance the negotiations.”

Negotiations? He hadn’t even gotten this guy's name yet. Asmodel pushed out his psychic tendrils to grab a brief glimpse of the emotions coming from the outside of the tavern. Hmmm , JR13 was right. A blast of antagonistic intent headed their way. “Mind if I sit?” Asmodel waved to one side of the booth.

The guy shrugged. “Makes no never mind to me.”

Not sure what that meant. Keeping his attention on the man, he plopped onto the outer edge of the booth and settled onto the lumpy seat. Holding out his hand in the manner of the modern humans, he introduced himself. “I am Asmodel from Earth. And I believe we can help each other.”

The man hesitated, eying Asmodel’s outstretched hand. After a moment, he raised his brown eyes to hold Asmodel in a firm gaze. “I am Raxx Jorlen.” With a firm grasp, he shook with the hand he’d had across the back of the booth before letting go. He leaned back with a nonchalant air. His hidden weapon under the table didn’t move. “So, what gives you the idea I need help?”

Asmodel leaned on the table and laced his fingers together. Lowering his voice, he answered. “Less than five minutes away, there’s a group headed to this pub intent on either tearing you apart or selling you to the highest bidder.” He shrugged. “Could go either way at this point.”

Raxx jerked his head back, then narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think…”

Asmodel sliced a hand through the air. “We don’t have time for this.” He glanced at the bot perched on his shoulder. “JR13, how much time do we have?”

“Three point five minutes.” The bot replied loud enough for Raxx to hear.

Raxx glanced at Asmodel’s shoulder before his lips thinned. “What do you have in mind?”

Asmodel sat back. “If you agree to take me where I want to go, I guarantee I can get you safely out of here.”

Raxx tapped his forefinger on the faded wooden tabletop marred by scratches, stains, and cracks, his head tilted with a slight frown.

Time to convince the guy. Asmodel trusted his instincts, and they screamed he and this guy needed to get out of here. Like right now. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned.” His smile wasn’t warm. “I can more than even the odds.”

The man secured his hidden weapon in a holster at his hip and placed his fist on the surface of the table. Any attempt to look cavalier vanished. “Oh, how so?”

Asmodel scooted out of the booth and stood. With little effort, he changed his appearance to mirror the man sitting in front of him. Down to the shirt and jacket he wore.

“I can act as a decoy and draw the idimmus to me so you can make your escape.” All he had to do was freeze the aliens before they got close to him. Not that he’d confess that part of the plan. No need to share all his secrets just yet.

Raxx didn’t so much as twitch at the change of Asmodel’s appearance. Never taking his eyes off him, he slid out of the booth. He stood next to Asmodel, his gaze roaming over him before staring into his eyes. “It could get rough,” he warned. “There are certain, ah, individuals pretty ticked off at me.”

“Really?” Asmodel smirked. “I never would have guessed.” He crossed his arms. “But don’t worry, that’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Raxx shrugged. “Well, if you’re sure, you’ve got a deal. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” He glanced at the loud exclamations rising in volume at the entrance to the tavern. He nodded to the other side of the room that had to be the back exit. “I’ll meet you the next block over in front of a red shack with an image of a sexbot on it.” He tensed as the noise at the entrance grew louder.

“How do I know you won’t just leave me here and escape by yourself?” Asmodel grasped the man’s upper arm.

“Wait.” Raxx unclasped a compact, egg-shaped contraption from his belt. The thing flickered a soft, pulsing light. “This is Echo. Without her, I can’t navigate my ship.” He nodded to JR13. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be alive today without her.” He put the device to his face and whispered to it. “Echo, you stay with this man until we meet up. Okay?”

The light on Echo’s surfaced throbbed with each word Raxx spoke.

Asmodel’s eyebrows rose. That was interesting.

Tilting his head to JR13, he whispered, “Analyze that. Is it what he says it is?”

“Analyzation complete. What the human described to you is true. It is a sentient AI, similar to me, who is an integral part of his ship's navigation. Instead of verbally communicating, she has access to him by an implant in his head.” The bot’s voice was low.

“Can you understand her?” Asmodel asked. While he could read the man's mind if he wanted, he couldn’t infiltrate an implant.

“Somewhat. I will continue to work on opening communications with Echo.”

Raxx handed him the oval device and thumbed over his shoulder. “I’ll go out this way and meet up with you.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you want to fight the Vargrux? They’re stupid but deadly.”

Angry yells headed toward them.

Raxx took a step back.

“Don’t worry about me.” Asmodel put Echo into an inside pocket of his leather jacket. “We’ll be just fine.” He nodded to the exit. “Go! I’ll take care of this.”

With one last glance at Asmodel, Raxx spun around and hurried through the small doorway.

Asmodel picked up the indecision that warred with the man’s inclination to stay and fight.

At a boisterous yell, the crowd behind him parted. A strange assortment of ugly and just-as-ugly aliens surrounded him. All growling and spitting with raised weapons in his direction.

Asmodel smiled. This was going to be fun.