Page 9 of Stranded with the Alien

She gazed at the painting, enjoying this moment of closeness. So why did she feel sadness washing over her? It was as if there was something coming, something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She turned to her father to ask another question but his features were blurry. He was fading.

“No! Daddy, come back!”

But he was gone. Had been gone for a long time. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

The alien didn’t know what to make of her.

He’d dumped her on the floor of the cave and watched while she drifted in and out of consciousness. He had never injected a Terran with a non-lethal dose ofarakbefore and he was curious to see how she’d react.

Only the males of Vraxos possessedarak, just as only the males had extra limbs. In miniscule quantities it acted as a sedative. At higher concentrations it was lethal. Vraxians themselves were immune to its effects, but in combat it was a weapon that could render enemies unconscious or dead.

He’d only used a tiny dose ofarakbut even so, he was surprised when liquid spilled from her eyes. He knew this to be a sign of distress or pain, just as it was in Vraxians. But how could that be, when she had been rendered insensible?

Then he remembered that Terrans were capable of something called ‘dreaming’ while they slept and he was instantly intrigued.

Vraxian scientists had been unable to explain the purpose of dreaming. They only knew it was an alien trait, and not something their own kind could do. But how or to what end was a mystery.

Now, watching the small female curled on the ground with teardrops glinting on her cheeks, he wondered why she would choose to experience something which caused her pain.

Then again, maybe it was involuntary. Maybe Terrans, or humans as they called themselves, had no control over their dreams. He watched her intently, trying to divine meaning behind her muttered words.

It occurred to him that dreaming might be a private matter among humans. Perhaps they preferred not to be watched while they slept.

But what did he care of that? She was his prisoner. She had no right to privacy.

Letting his eyes roam her body, he reminded himself of what he knew about human anatomy. Smaller and less densely built than Vraxians. Poor night vision and average auditory abilities. Soft organs encased in a bony skeleton. Easy to damage, quick to break.

A species far inferior to the Vraxians. In fact, without their technology, Terrans wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes against the Empire.

But they were annoyingly persistent and large in number, which is why among his own kind they were referred to in derogatory terms as ‘vermin’.

And they had physiological oddities too. For example, Vraxian females did not possess mammary glands until they were with child. Human females had them all the time. Why? What use were they until they had procreated? It made no sense.

Perhaps they had another purpose aside from nourishing infants? But what? His musings were interrupted by the realization that she was regaining consciousness.

Kara surfaced slowly, her mind still tangled in loss and regret from the dream. Her eyes fluttered open and hard reality came crashing down.

It was daylight. She was lying on the floor of a cave in a pool of sunlight and the alien was staring at her.

“What the fuck?”

Angrily, she leapt to her feet. The Vraxian was sitting imperiously on a rocky ledge a few feet away, as arrogant if he was on a throne. She wiped her hand across her cheek, embarrassed to find it wet with tears.

“Enjoy watching me sleep, you pervert?”

His lip curled up at one corner.

“Vedek ralan,hoo-man.”

If she was a betting woman, Kara would have wagered he’d said something along the lines of ‘watch your tone, human.’She clenched her fists and forced herself to calm down. If she had any chance of escape, she had to keep a cool head. She eyed her captor.

Sweet Jesus, he was big. Seven-foot of pure muscle. Shoulders he could lift a truck with. But, and this was the crucial point, he was unarmed.

That is, his large four-fingered hands were empty and his other appendages – Kara knew they weren’t, strictly speaking, tentacles but it was hard to think of them as anything else – were currently wrapped round his torso. It was how Vraxians held them when they weren’t being used.

He wasn’t wearing boots. That wasn’t unusual. Vraxian feet were tough enough to withstand any terrain. They were also, big surprise, potential weapons. The powerful phalanges, three at the front and a fourth at the back, contained razor-sharp talons which could be extended and retracted at will.

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