by Daniel Schwabauer

He heard a low growl behind, turned to see a Kharyllian looking down at him expressionlessly. He stared upwards unmoving. He had, of course, seen a Kharyllian in holo, but this was different - the difference between stroking a tabby kitten and coming face to face with a wild tiger. He imagined that he could smell the Kharyllian’s oily scales beneath its bulging therm-suit. He knew he smelled something terrible.

"Excuse me," Kevin said quietly, though he was not sure what he was asking to be excused of. He had been warned not to speak to a Kharyllian unless spoken to, but the monster’s stare was unnerving.

It wore a black and gold uniform, and a gold-green helmet that covered the top and back of its flat head. Steam oozed from the vent-opening at its neck. Static came faintly from the com-link at its throat.

It’s six eyes rolled forward as it distended its lower jaw. Its yellow teeth clicked as the mouth snapped shut. It said, in distorted Gallingua, "Do not believe heard you correctly, Man."

Kevin swallowed hard. "I said, ‘excuse me.’"

It moved forward one step, brought its gloved hands into the air at its sides.

"Once again, please," it said.

He took a step backward, his jaw clenched. Was the Kharyllian looking for a fight? From him? Ridiculous! He could not hope to put up a reasonable defense. Besides their natural differences, the Kharyllian carried a hand-gun, and Kevin was unarmed. "I said, ‘excuse me,’ that’s all."

"Excuse? For what, Man? Have you, no offense, infracted?"

"I don’t know. You were staring."

It reached forward suddenly and grasped both his arms, picked him up off the ground as though he were a strange insect to be examined. Kevin did not see the movement, did not have time to react.

"You are rude, Man. Perhaps would please to learn Kharylligua. Manners of slave. Polite speak."

"Put me Down!"

It hissed a warm current of foul breath in his face, and for a moment Kevin thought it would take his head in its mouth and crush his skull like a fresh egg. He kicked it in the midsection with the point of his shoe, not realizing that his foot would ache later. It was like kicking a boulder.

The thing hissed again, and gripped him more tightly. "Manners, yes," it said. "Make slave."

He realized now that its eyes had no lids.

"Make slave of Man."