Page 62 of Stranded with the Alien

Her mother hadn’t come on these trips. She said she’d spent more than enough time bivouacking in the wild with the military and had no intention of roughing it again.

With the benefit of adult hindsight, Kara wondered now if her mother had deliberately let them go camping on their own so they could enjoy father-daughter bonding time.

Her mother was smart. Terrifyingly so. But she wasn’t the warmest of people. Kara had no doubt she loved her family but she wasn’t capable of showing it.

It was her father who’d been the emotional glue in their little unit. His heart had been big enough to encompass both of them. His unquestioning adoration had tied them all together.

And when he’d gone she and her mother had been lost, unable to talk to each other or share their emotions. They’d never learned how. Her father’s death had cast them adrift in a sea of grief without a rope between them.

“Kara.”

Kara realized Vahn was speaking. She blinked back the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes and looked up. He was holding out a drumstick, the skin charred and crispy, the flesh perfectly roasted.

She took it and bit deep, relishing the succulent flavor. Meat juices ran down her chin and she wiped them away.

“Thanks. It’s good.”

“You looked as if you were far away.”

“Just thinking about home.”

“I think of home too. What is the first thing you will do when you return?”

“Hot bath. Food. And a big glass of whisky. Big. Huge.”

“Whisky is…” Vahn paused as the microbes in his brain translated. “Alcohol?”

“Exactly. Do you have alcohol on Vraxos?”

“Of course. What civilization doesn’t? I lean towardsmelamak,which is a kind of fermented grain. Colorless and odorless, but with a kick like adankar.”

“Sounds like vodka.” She tipped her drumstick at him. “Respect. And you? What will you do when you get home?”

“I would like to see my father. He is elderly and under a lot of stress. My disappearance will not be helping.” He paused. “Of course, I will not be going home when your people arrive.”

Kara cringed inwardly. She’d forgotten that rescue for her meant internment for him. She wondered what being a prisoner-of-war on Earth would be like.

It was true there were rules governing the treatment of POWs. After the many and varied conflicts of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, there’d been a global commitment towards restoring human rights.

With the advent of routine space travel, governments had begun to realize there was a whole universe out there that didn’t give a shit about their petty differences. It had brought the people of Earth closer together.

Countries began to share knowledge and resources. Borders became less rigid. Everyone started to refer to themselves as ‘human’ instead of whatever nationality their ancestors claimed.

Eventually, in the early twenty-second century, every nation had come together to form the United States of Earth in an unprecedented show of international co-operation – the cornerstone of which was a pledge to uphold equality and humanity.

But that promise had never been tested with an enemy alien. Vahn would be the first Vraxian prisoner-of-war that humans had ever captured. And after such a protracted and violent conflict, she had the uncomfortable feeling her mother wouldn’tbe inclined to show mercy. She would want to make an example of him.

She might actually have him executed.

The thought jolted her.

“Kara?”

“Huh?”

She looked up, realizing she hadn’t spoken for several minutes. “Sorry. I was miles away. Just thinking about… about getting off this planet.”

“At least as a prisoner I will be able to eat food I have not had to gut myself.”

---