Page 6 of Stranded with the Alien

Her finger jabbed the firing mechanism three, four times but there was no response. The blaster was jammed.

Well, that’s just fucking brilliant.

Kara turned and ran. She pelted through the trees towards the sand, hoping against hope the creature would be reluctant to leave the shelter of the copse.

As she burst out into the open, it seemed she was proved right. The arachnid slowed to a stop at the edge of the trees and relief surged through her.

But of course, it didn’t need to catch her. It only needed to get close enough to hit her with its excretion.

Something landed on the back of her legs and instantly they were stuck together. Kara shrieked as she fell, throwing her hands forward. It was a hard landing. Her face hit the dirt and the blaster flew from her hand. Her head glanced off a half-buried rock.

Grimly, she battled to hold on to her consciousness. She thrashed her legs, trying to free them from the strands but to no avail.

There was a tug on her ankles and her body began to slide across the sand. Horrified, she realized she was being dragged back towards the waiting beast. It squatted patiently, its crimson gaze unblinking as it reeled her in.

“You’re making a big mistake, ugly,” she snarled, knowing false bravado was the only thing stopping her from weeping with terror. “I taste like shit.”

As if disagreeing, the thing opened its drooling maw. The decaying stench of its breath drifted over her and its dripping fangs filled her vision. She waited till she was close enough and then smacked it in one of its glowing eyes, knowing it wouldn’t do any good but determined not to go quietly.

The thing reared up on its hind legs, screeching in pain. Kara was nonplussed. Surely she hadn’t hit it hard enough? She watched, confused, as the arachnid began spasming. Its whole body twitched and jumped until with one last frenzied jerk, it toppled over and was still.

Kara raised her head, trying to make sense of what had happened. The creature was lying partially on its side, limbs akimbo. It took her a moment to register it hadn’t been felled by her punch.

Something long and silver was protruding from the gap between the armoured plates on its head and neck. It was a weapon – one she was able to identify from countless SDF images.

A laser-blade,she thought muzzily.But how…?

Something walked into her vision. Something seven foot tall and blue of skin. Something which didn’t just have arms and legs but two additional limbs attached to its torso. Slim, powerful, vaguely cobra-shaped, they moved sinuously as if with a mind of their own and confirmed her worst fears.

It was a Vraxian warrior.

Four

Snake. There’s a snake standing in front of me.

Kara went rigid with terror as humanity’s most hated enemy stared down at her with its reptilian eyes. The snake-like appendages coiled and uncoiled behind him, muscular whips ready to lash out at any moment.

She stared up at the alien, her mind a jumble. What the hell was it doing here? Had it crash-landed, like she had?

It growled something at her, inhuman words she didn’t understand, and she forced herself to focus. Beneath the brightness of the stars, she could see every detail of his Vraxian physiognomy.

His hair was snowy white and hung below his shoulders. Two sections at the front were braided and beaded; the mark of a warrior who had made many kills in battle.

His square-jawed face was tinted blue, smooth of cheek but heavily-boned at the forehead, the cranial ridges rising to a central peak. His yellow-slitted eyes glared at her with the cold mercilessness of an apex predator. And on the thick column of his azure neck she caught the glint of scales.

She knew from SDF briefings that those scales armored most of his body and could change color, chameleon-like, to blend in with the background. It was one of the traits which had earned the Vraxians their nickname.

The other, of course, being those unnerving whip-like appendages attached to their torso. They weren’t just handy extra limbs – though they were dexterous enough to carryweapons and operate machinery – their tips were also loaded with poison. Yet another feature which made Vraxians so formidable.

The alien was wearing black trousers and a flight jacket not dissimilar to hers, except his was liberally decked out with leather straps and heavy-duty shoulder-guards studded with metal.

A space-age barbarian. With tentacles.

An absurd urge to giggle came over her, even though she knew she was staring death in the face.

Vraxians had no mercy. They killed for sport and hunted for pleasure. They seldom took prisoners – they didn’t see the point. And they had been at war with humans for most of her life.

She tried to push herself away from the looming danger but her legs were still stuck fast. The Vraxian’s lip curled as he realized she was helpless. He snarled more words at her. Words which were no doubt promising imminent death.

---