Brilliant young Hollywood director Bobby Albertson is delighted when he finally meets the woman of his dreams, only to discover that beautiful Kathy Miller is really an alien on the run from some nasty intergalactic enemies.

Ket turned to the man nearest her, a heavy-set, tattooed biker-type, and said, "Gentlemen, please. Let us take care of our friend."

The biker put a hand on Ket's shoulder. "That's where you're wrong, Blondie. We'll take care of your friend. And maybe you too."

Frank and Bobby turned to each other. "Uh-oh," they said in unison.

Without rising from her barstool, Ket turned to the biker and smiled slightly. In an action too quick for the eye to capture, she placed her hand under his chin and pushed.

The biker flew across the room, flipped over a table, and struck the rear wall under the dartboard.

Another biker took a swing at Ket, who caught the fist in her much smaller hand and floored her assailant with a head butt.

"Kathy!" Frank called. "Let's get--"

"Sit down!" The order came in a voice that hadn't issued from her since Thradon, a low, powerful tone that cut through all of the noise in the bar.

The general had spoken.

"Have you noticed something interesting about our script girl?" Frank asked Bobby. "Because I have."

"And what might that be?" Bobby replied.

"She doesn't fight like a girl," Frank replied, raising his beer as a hapless Ket-fighter slid along the bar past him.

"What do you think?" Frank asked Bobby, who had been staring openmouthed throughout the proceedings.

He stared at his friend with a bewildered face. "I think I'm in love," Bobby said.