Intergalactic Witness Protection Excerpt

A bullet pierces my hologram and embeds itself into the beefy arm flesh of the leader. He howls in pain as I turn to see the culprit.

A petite figure wearing a full-body thermal suit that slides up under the space mask that conceals her face much better than the suit disguises her curves.

No one wears a space mask in a colony except a Venetian, since the artificial earth-like oxygen levels are too rich for them.

Behind me, the men react as they come to the same conclusion I have. Because Venetians are feared throughout the solar system for being so different from the earthians they adapted away from centuries ago.

But my wires pulse for a different reason. Because despite the fact that this Venetian has taken great pains to cover every inch of her person, I know exactly who she is.

I have to get Orion out of here.

The other goons remember how to react, and reach for their weapons.

But the Venetian doesn’t seem to care as she reaches suavely into her utility belt and takes out an atmosphere ball.

I turn frantically to the team that I cannot protect from the pain that they are about to experience, even as I sense that the ship is recharged.

The Venetian drops the ball and cocks her hip when it hits the ground. At the moment of contact, reaction happens in the atmosphere that imitates the pressure of Venus.

Just like that, all the men are on the ground, their faces twisted in pain that they would be writhing with if they were capable of movement.

My hologram stutters, and I lose vision for a moment, seeing only my ship for a moment. I take the moment to start the ship and sync my knowledge of my crew’s current coordinates.

Then my hologram re-simulates, and my view split-screens.

And I can see the Venetian stepping over the fallen goons, striding toward my crew.

Amazingly, Orion seems to have recovered at least seventeen percent of his consciousness, and has rolled his head to the side in a vain attempt to lift it. His eyes widen when he sees the Venetian’s boots.

“Wayta?” he gasps.

The Venetian smiles and cocks her head as she looks down at him. “Hello, love.”