Phule’s Company by Robert Asprin

Lost in thought, Phule decided to take the stairs down to the vending-machine floor instead of waiting for an elevator.

It was easy to see why the lieutenants-and probably anyone else she had been assigned to-thought of her as a problem case. He would try to talk to Rose again, sometime when he wasn’t so tired. Maybe if he was more alert he would be able to find a way to put her at her ease. As it was, it was hard to relax around someone who constantly reacted to you as if you were some kind of a monster.

As if on cue, a nightmare rose off the steps at his feet, stopping his descent-and his heart-in midstride.

“Wha … Oh! Jeez, Tusk-anini. You scared the … I didn’t see you there.”

“Not apologize, Captain. Many scared by me when expected. You not expect see me so scared.”

The big Voltron shook his head, though Phule noted he rotated it around his nose like a dog instead of pivoting his chin back and forth on his neck as a human would. There was no denying this nonhuman Legionnaire cut a formidable, if not terrifying, figure under the best of circumstances, much less when encountered unexpectedly in a stairwell late at night.

Nearly seven feet tall with a massive, barrel chest, Tusk-anini towered over all but the tallest of humans, and even those had to look up to meet his black, marblelike eyes. His brown-olive skin more closely resembled an animal hide than human flesh in color and texture, particularly when complemented by substantial amounts of dull-black hair. Crowning the entire effect was a misshapen face only a mother-or, one assumes, another Voltron-could love. It was elongated and protruded into an unmistakable snout, and his two tusklike canines jutted from his lower jaw on either side of his nose, presumably the feature the Legionnaire took his name from.