Page 8 of Stranded with the Alien

He motioned for her to get up, the pulse weapon aimed squarely at her chest.

She stumbled to her feet with her hands raised in the universal sign of surrender. Trying to look meek and defeated, she moved closer to her captor. If she could just get within lunging distance she’d grab the blaster and then it was goodbye Mr Blue.

Too late, she saw one of his tentacles reaching for her. She recoiled in disgust as it brushed her neck, expecting it to be slimy or reptilian. But it was neither.

“Don’t touch me… don’t… wha… what’s happening…”

A feeling of drowsiness washed through her. Her limbs were suddenly heavy but in a good way, as if she’d been wrapped in a big pillowy duvet.

She tried to speak again but it was too much effort. Any thought of shooting the alien went clean out of her head. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sleep.

The Vraxian caught her on the way down. She lolled in his arms, semi-conscious. He regarded her narrowly.

He’d never been this close to a Terran before. Oh, he’d killed plenty in battle. But usually from a distance using missiles and pulse blasts. He hadn’t expected them to be so… sofragile.

This one was dressed like a soldier, just as he was, but she was a good deal shorter and much, much lighter. How could a species this insubstantial pose such a challenge to the Vraxian Empire?

The creature rolled her head into the crook of his arm and muttered something indecipherable. Her breath fluttered against his skin. He was surprised to find the sensation was not altogether repulsive. And her scent… he blinked. Her scent was unexpectedly pleasant.

Cautiously, he lowered his nose towards her and inhaled.

“Ayanlesh agra’bkt!”

He swore loudly. By the Temple of Ayanlesh, did all Terrans smell this good? Hurriedly he deposited her on the ground and stepped back, mired in indecision.

He should kill her right now. Shoot the vermin with her own gun. Her offer ofshaa’baarahad intrigued him but he had no illusions on that score. Terrans were dangerous and deceitful, and he knew better than to trust them.

So why was he hesitating?

He pointed the blaster at her and prepared to shoot. A minute went by. Then another. He knew he was being ridiculous but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

“Drek.”

Cursing under his breath, he shoved the weapon into his belt. He retrieved the bag the Earth female had been carrying in case it had anything useful in it.

And then, still without entirely understanding why, he hoisted his prisoner over one broad shoulder and loped off into the night.

Five

It was an old dream. Her father was showing her his latest painting. It was a bird soaring on the breeze, wings outstretched in the joy of flight.

“Look, peanut,” he said, lifting her onto his knee. “See how the feathers flex against the air currents?”

“Is that how planes fly, daddy?”

“Sort of, but there’s a lot of physics involved getting a plane to fly. Birds do it naturally.”

“Mommy says the planes in our miri… miwi…”

“Military?”

“Yes, mommy says ours are the strongest and fastest of all. They can beat anyone!”

“Well, your mother’s never wrong. Our fleet is strong.” Her father paused and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “But you know peanut, strength isn’t always the deciding factor. See this bird? He’s not flying because he’s stronger than the air. He’s flying because he’s learned how to work with it.”

“I don’t understand, daddy.”

“Sometimes, winning isn’t about who can hold out the longest. It’s about who’s willing to bend first.”

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