Page 5 of Stranded with the Alien

Let’s face it, avoiding that constant stream of criticism was another reason she flew mission after mission. She liked the adrenaline, sure. But it was also a good way to get out from under her mother’s shadow.

Her mother, the President of the United States of Earth, Commander in Chief of the Allied Militaries, Grand Admiral of the Space Defense Force, and Leader of the Free World.

Hard to believe she was the same person who’d read her bedtime stories and kissed her knees better when she fell off her hover-bike. But of course her father had been alive then, a mild and patient presence who had smoothed away his wife’s sharp edges.

He’d been a pilot himself, one of the first to test-fly the prototype S-7 Eagle Space Fighter which had eventually morphed into the jet she herself flew – the fusion-powered S-23 Merlin.

Her mother had also started out in the military but found she preferred the cut and thrust of politics. After her father had died in that first landmark battle with the Vraxians, there’d been no stopping her.

Earth had been at war with the Vraxian Empire for most of Kara’s twenty-five years of existence. And for the last five of them, her mother had been the President.

She was hell-bent on winning. As far as she was concerned, there was no room for peace in this conflict. Only victory.

Always negotiate from a position of strength,she’d told Kara.Even when you’re at your weakest, you always have something the enemy wants.

She closed her eyes, tiredness overtaking her. The soft nocturnal noises around her were comforting; the gentle rustle of branches, the chirrup of insects calling to each other, and the faint squeaks and snuffles of whatever small animals lived in the undergrowth. She began to drift off.

Something touched her leg.

Instantly she sat bolt upright, her hand automatically grabbing her weapon and training it in front of her.

There was nothing there.

She scanned the dark outline of the trees, trying to see if something lurked.

Nothing.

She started to get to her feet and found her leg was caught, as if it were pinned. Glancing down, she saw something lying across her shin. A wispy thread, pale and luminescent in the starlight. It seemed to have stuck the material of her trousers to the ground.

Sap of some kind, she thought. Must have drifted down from one of the trees. She yanked her leg firmly and the strand fell away.

Dusting herself off, she lay down and tried to get comfortable again. The tree above her was a big one, its wide branches stretched out like a canopy. She stared up at it, wondering what kind of fruits would release sap like that and whether they might be edible. Anything was better than SDF rations.

In fact, were those berries? Nestled in the branches straight above her? She focused on the small spheres hanging close together, visible in the starlight. Funny that she hadn’t noticed them earlier. From this angle, they gleamed with a ruby tint.

A bad feeling came over her.

Trying not to make any sudden movements, she reached for her blaster again. There was a soft, spitting sound and several luminescent strands fell towards her. They landed on her wrist, glueing it to the ground. Shocked, she looked up as the red spheres started to descend and realized what they were.

Not fruit. Eyes.

The bright red eyes of a nightmarish creature that was scuttling down the tree trunk towards her.

“Shit!”

She wrenched her wrist free and seized her gun, firing rapidly at the oncoming horror. But panic skewed her aim and she only succeeded in knocking it out of the tree.

It landed on its side and for the first time she got a good look at it. It was about the size of a pony but far less friendly. Eight legs skittered wildly, all tipped with razor sharp claws. Its bulbous body was covered in a gleaming black carapace made upof jointed plates, rather like an armadillo. And its jaw was wet with mucous-covered fangs.

It scrabbled upright, its claws making repellant clicking noises on the ground. Kara grabbed her backpack and moved away, still pointing her gun.

She wasn’t an entomologist. But she’d bet her last dime this thing was a carnivore.

With a hiss, the spider-creature spat more viscous filaments towards her, expelling them from glands where she figured its nasal passages should be. She threw herself to one side and pressed the trigger.

There was a mutedclick.

“No, you piece of shit, don’t do this to me!”

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