The parren champion took his sword, and tested its balance, awaiting the human’s approach with indigo-eyed contempt. Trace calmly pulled her pistol from its webbing, and shot him in the head. The body hit the paving with a thud, and lay limp. Parren stared in shock. Then looked back at Trace. Beside her, PH-1’s enormous rapid-fire cannon poised ready to kill them all. Trace reholstered her pistol. “Aristan,” she repeated. “Or we wait here until hell freezes over.”
