Excerpt of Intergalactic Witness Protection

“Orion, you dare bring your carcass back to this quadrant of the galaxy?”

I sense my captain bristle as he analyzes the mob of natives even now surrounding my crew. I count eleven.

Unfortunate. At most efficient capacities, we could only take down nine weapons at once. That would leave two renegade weapons, and the chances that one crew mate will get hit at this close proximity is 89.9 percent. A fatal shot is 63.7 percent.

That is not a risk I am willing to make.

Orion glances at me to catch my calculations. I subtly shake my hologram head at him. He nods faintly.

“Are you even listening to me, father-killer?”

Orion looks the man who spoke those words, the apparent leader of the motley crew, square in the eyes. “Move.”

The man does not, in fact, move. Instead, he leers more. “We have strict rules about patricide around these parts.”

Then something happens that I don’t have time to calculate. I seldom do when it comes to human impulses. Especially Orion’s lapses of reason.

In this case specifically, his fist forcing its way into the face of the gang leader.

Both my forms lunge forward, but my hologram does nothing to stop the jab of the lightning stick that goes through me and stabs my captain.

He convulses and then collapses into my physical form’s waiting arms.

Just like that, Killa and Nicholas go back-to back, their favorite warrior stance, their guns out and shooting at the attackers.

But I already ran the numbers, and it’s against them. Against us.

I watch helplessly as another lightning stick touches Nicholas. When he collapses, Killa turns to help him, only to get a different stick whacked against her head.

The last of my crew mates falls, so my physical form stands to protect them.

A blade slices across my neck, and I watch my own head go flying. But with my external controls, I can continue to function without it. I pick up the man who beheaded me and throw him at his comrades, taking down three temporarily. Then I turn to confront the man who had shocked hit Killa. He attempts to hit me too, but I grab onto his stick and use it and him to knock down three others.

While my back is turned, though, the electricity pole comes into contact with my physical form.

I feel no pain, that is a human attribute. But I do feel myself shutting down, part by part. And then I’m seeing only out of my hologram.

And what I see are the remaining adversaries surround my crew. They fasten rudimentary handcuffs on my captain, on Killa, and on Nicholas. And all I can do is stand helpless and watch, my body smoldering headless on the ground.

To my surprise, I clench my virtual hands, for as much good as it does them. A strangely human trait I must have picked up from my captain.

My captain, who I am helpless to assist. My one goal in life.

The inability to properly fulfill my mission buzzes through my system, and I walk behind the men carrying away my crew.

One of them, blood pouring out of his nose and out of his mouth, looks back at me. “Boss, what are we going to do about the hologram?”

“Nothing,” the leader calls back, better positioning my captain on his shoulders. “It’s ineffectual.”

The one dragging Killa laughs dryly. “Not to mention there’s nothing we can actually do that will affect the hologram.”

Yes, because I’m immune. Just not those I need to protect.

And so I follow those who imprisoned my crew deeper into the city.