Space Burps II: The Search for Space Burps

There was lots of paperwork the next day. The chief was rather ticked that the top of a business tower had been shot off and that nobody had seen who did it. Like I was about to say anything.

After that was over, I went home and played with Fluffy a little—but I kept thinking on the kid with the blaster. It was crazy, but I worried about the thing. It’s not safe to be alone in this town when you’re a Tarsian, let alone a human kid with, apparently, a baby brother.

At least I’d done research on comparative, ah, plumbing, and found that Tarsian diapers should work for a Terran kid after all. So I picked up a package of them. But I wasn’t about to wait for a Terran brat to mug me again.

“C’mon, Fluffy.”


Fluffy was a Dhancougar, retired from our F-Line Corps of drugsniffing cats. If anyone could track that Terran brat by scent, it would be she.

I considered taking my blaster, or at least my armor, but decided it would be less dangerous not to. Fluffy would scare the kid quite enough, after all.

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