I began to chuckle—more of a tension-relieving snicker than a full-bodied laugh.
"Funny," I said.
"What is?" asked the self-styled Wazzenazzian.
"These aliens. Big blustery Heraal came in with murder in his eye and killed himself, and the pint-sized Stortulian who looked so meek and pathetic damn near blew my head off." I shuddered. "Thanks for the tackle job."
"Don't mention it," Gorb said.
I glared at the Ghrynian police. "Well? What are you waiting for? Take that murderous little beast out of here! Or isn't murder against the local laws?"
"The Stortulian will be duly punished," replied the leader of the Ghrynian cops calmly. "But there is the matter of the dead Kallerian and the fine of—"
"—one hundred thousand dollars. I know." I groaned and turned to Stebbins. "Get the Terran Consulate on the phone, Stebbins. Have them send down a legal adviser. Find out if there's any way we can get out of this mess with our skins intact."
"Right, Chief." Stebbins moved toward the visiphone.
Gorb stepped forward and put a hand on his chest.