I stared at the screen in front of me, the droning of activity all around a mere susurrus drowned out by the pounding of my own heart. Or, at least, that’s how I felt. The stale coffee they serve us here in Immigration Employment Services wasn’t nearly strong enough. No, my panic was more due to the overly-muscled, six-eyed whatever-it-was waiting for me to find him better placement. Don’t tell HR, but I’ve never been that good at remembering the names of the various species to come through.

It was another breed from another star system against which our federation had won another war, and, following another treaty, it had sent members of its kind to our world in yet another wave of hopefuls, seeking to integrate into our militarily superior society. Problem was, due to the fact that they’d just gotten their asses kicked, the powers that be were always concerned about someone wanting payback, and thus they were barred from enlistment. They probably had better prospects back wherever they came from, but my fellows and I had to do what we could anyway.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against them. They’re just trying to get by, like anyone. It’s just when you’re dealing with a breed like Bruce here, as his documentation declared his alias to be, it turns out fruit-picking isn’t ideal when your idea of “handle with care” involves enough pressure to crush a watermelon. You don’t last long at the farms like that.

My poker game is strong, but I swear Bruce could hear my heart thundering. All six of his eyes were locked on me as I continued browsing the listings for anything more suited to his, err, talents.

The last time he’d come through, I thought he’d do well as a bank security guard. Who would dare try to rob a joint with this eight-foot tower of bristling wrath, after all?

Some stoners, apparently.

They didn’t get anywhere near the vault. Bruce was very good at the job. He simply had a different concept of “disarming” people. His case file read that his lawyers had managed to successfully convince the jury that ripping the arms off a person and beating them into submission with them was a mere, honest misunderstanding of the phrase. Despite having cost the bank only the cleanup, the ordeal left them none too keen on having Bruce return for work. Brand image to protect, you understand.

Finally, my eyes fell upon one glimmer of hope. The way Bruce leaned toward me, he must have sensed the shift in my mood. I looked him in the eyes. Well, somewhere in the middle of them. “How would you like to be a club bouncer?”

He stared at me for what felt like an eternity as he mulled it over. His expression, a permanent scowl, never changed. “What do?”

I leaned back and grinned as best I could. “You guard the place. Anyone causes trouble, you bounce ‘em.”

“Human not bounce good.”

“Oh, no,, you don’t literally bounce them. You just…make them leave. No bloodshed. Just…put them outside.”

The smile that crossed his face etched itself into my memory, and I still see it in my nightmares.

“I give try.”