The Doghan Daguis' Intel and the Intruders

Three squat aliens, all about four feet tall, stood in front of Eliza. Their stubby, four-fingered hands were in the air, and their small, beady eyes were wide as they stared down the lengths of their elongated, trunklike muzzles at Eliza. They were brown and wrinkled and stooped, with sparse hair sticking up here and there.

Eliza had drawn her weapon, startled at having someone come up behind her, but now she lowered it, and they lowered their arms.

“Nice to see you again,” one of them said. He had a smudge of blue around his eyes.

“Agent Eliza,” the second chimed in. This one, too, had markings around his eyes, except his were burgundy-colored.

The third Doghan Daguis, whose markings were yellow, completed the sentence. “As resplendent as ever.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eliza snapped.

“We go where work calls—”

“—We can speak over five thousand languages—”

“—which can come in handy—”

“—at a party like this,” the first finished. The second one added, “Need our services?”

El