Page 11 of Rogue Starfighter

My stomach dropped.

“Anand?” Alvarez looked at me. “Did that guy just say your name?”

“No.” I was losing my mind. Right? This was a dream. Had to be. I pinched myself. Hard.

“He absolutely said your name.”

I shook my head as my supervisor put on a headset and ordered every plane in the air into a holding pattern. I stepped closer to the screen and watched as one guard reached for Vesh’s arm. Bad idea. Something on Vesh’s wrist flashed blue. Both men dropped. No blood. No visible wounds. One second they were standing, the next they were flat on the polished floor.

“Did he kill them?” the weather technician asked.

I leaned toward the monitor and watched the nearest guard’s chest. Up. Down. Up again.

“They’re breathing. He stunned them.”

Everyone looked at me.

“How the hell do you know that?” Alvarez asked.

Because I had spent nearly a year flying missions with the man currently disabling our security team. Because the weapon on his wrist looked exactly like the stunner he used in the game. Because I knew the roll of those shoulders and the impatient set of his jaw better than I knew my own reflection. “Their chests are moving. He just knocked them out.”

Vesh went through a locked security door without slowing. The access panel flashed, the door opened, and he disappeared into the stairwell.

“Airport police are eleven minutes out,” the weather technician announced.

Alvarez checked the stairwell feed. “He’s already on four.” We were on eleven.

“How fast can he climb stairs?” my supervisor asked.

Fast. Very freaking fast.

“Shit. He's on six,” Alvarez took a step back and looked around for a weapon.

“He's fast,” weatherman said. "Anybody carrying?"

"No." I answered automatically. Alvarez said the same. There were rules. We could have been armed, if we wanted to fill out the paperwork and jump through the hoops. Never seemed necessary. "He won't hurt us."

“You say that like you know him.”

"I think I do."

"God damn it, Anand. What are we dealing with here?" Alvarez settled for picking up one of our office chairs and standing to the side of the door, ready to swing at Vesh's head.

"That's not a good idea. I'd put the chair down."

"Who is he?" Weatherman stepped away from the door and moved to the opposite corner of the room.

“Please put the chair down before the armed alien gets here.”

The cab went silent. Alvarez stared at me. “Did you say alien?”

Oops.

“Priya,” my supervisor said slowly. “Who is that man?”

How was I supposed to answer? I designed him in a video game sounded insane. I think he came from outer space to pick me up sounded worse. “His name is Vesh.”

“That wasn’t my question.”