Bodyguard
By CHRISTOPHER GRIMM
Illustrated by CAVAT
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction February 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
When overwhelming danger is constantly present,of course
a man is entitled to have a bodyguard. The annoyance was that
he had to do it himself ... and his body would not cooperate!
The man at the bar was exceptionally handsome, and he knew it. So didthe light-haired girl at his side, and so did the nondescript man inthe gray suit who was watching them from a booth in the corner.
Everyone in the room was aware of the big young man, and most of thehumans present were resentful, for he handled himself consciously andarrogantly, as if his appearance alone were enough to make him superiorto anyone. Even the girl with him was growing restless, for she wasaccustomed to adulation herself, and next to Gabriel Lockard she wasalmost ordinary-looking.
As for the extraterrestrials—it was a free bar—they were merelyamused, since to them all men were pathetically and irredeemablyhideous.
Gabe threw his arm wide in one of his expansive gestures. There was ashort man standing next to the pair—young, as most men and women werein that time, thanks to the science which could stave off decay, thoughnot death—but with no other apparent physical virtue, for plasticsurgery had not fulfilled its bright promise of the twentieth century.
The drink he had been raising to his lips splashed all over hisclothing; the glass shattered at his feet. Now he was not only a ratherugly little man, but also a rather ridiculous one—or at least he felthe was, which was what mattered.
"Sorry, colleague," Gabe said lazily. "All my fault. You must let mebuy you a replacement." He gestured to the bartender. "Another of thesame for my fellow-man here."
The ugly man dabbed futilely at his dripping trousers with a clothhastily supplied by the management.
"You must allow me to pay your cleaning bill," Gabe said, taking outhis wallet and extracting several credit notes without seeming to lookat them. "Here, have yourself a new suit on me." You could use onewas implied.
And that, coming on top of Gabriel Lockard's spectacular appearance,was too much. The ugly man picked up the drink the bartender had justset before him and started to hurl it, glass and all, into Lockard'shandsome face.
Suddenly a restraining hand was laid upon his arm. "Don't do that," thenondescript man who had been sitting in the corner advised. He removedthe glass from the little man's slackening grasp. "You wouldn't want togo to jail because of him."
The ugly man gave him a bewildered stare. Then, seeing the forcesnow ranged against him—including his own belated prudence—were toostrong, he stumbled off. He hadn't really wanted to fight, only tosmash back, and now it was too late for that.
Gabe studied the newcomer curiously. "So, it's you again?"
The man in the gray suit smiled. "Who else in any world would stand upfor you?"
"I should think you'd have given up by now. Not that I mind having youaround, of course," Gabriel added too quickly. "You do come in usefulat times, you know."
"So you don't mind having me around?" The nondescript man smiled again."Then what are you running from, if not me? You can't be running fromyourself—you lost yourself a while back, remember?"
Gabe ran a han