Stranded with the Alien (Starbound #1)

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 carry weapons 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.

Think! Her mind screamed at her. Do something!

She tried to gather her thoughts. What did she know about the planet Vraxos? About its brutal inhabitants?

All those lessons they’d been forced to take at the academy. Know the enemy, Koenig had yelled at them. That’s how you beat them.

Come on, woman. You must know something useful.

The alien saw her blaster lying in the sand and used a tentacle to flip it into one of his hands. It looked absurdly small in his giant grip. Like a toy. But Kara couldn’t take her eyes off the muzzle as he pointed it at her and pressed the trigger.

Click.

Kara breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whatever magic was blocking the firing mechanism. Her relief was short-lived.

With a frown of irritation, the Vraxian deftly released the charging unit and banged it against his thigh. Then he re- inserted it into the blaster. Aiming at the dead body of the arachnid, he fired.

A hole the size of a dinner plate appeared in the corpse’s carapace. Kara swallowed.

Think, Kara. What do you know about the snakes that can help you?

Satisfied the weapon was now working, the alien turned his attention back to Kara. In the few seconds she had left, a surge of adrenaline threw a fragment of memory onto the shores of her mind.

Vraxian customs. One in particular.

Warriors who had fought nobly or were commended for their bravery could let it be known they were in the market for a mate. Families who favored a match would put forward their eligible females to compete for the honor.

It had caused much mirth in class. An actual contest? Where was the love? The romance?

But the instructor had explained that from the point of view of evolution, it made perfect sense. A way of ensuring families had access to the strongest genes, the most advantageous traits, without emotion getting in the way.

An idea took root, an idea that left her weak with horror. But her mother’s voice sounded in her head with customary matter-of-factness. Never give up. Even when you’re at your weakest, you always have something the enemy wants.

The alien raised the blaster and she saw starlight reflecting off its silver barrel. It was now or never.

“Shaa’baari.”

The word left her lips as a whisper. Clearing her throat, she repeated it.

“Shaa’baari.”

The alien froze. She couldn’t decipher his expression.

Maybe you’re saying it wrong. Better show him what you mean.

With shaking hands, she took hold of the hem of her shirt and pulled it upwards. The Vraxian stared as she deliberately exposed a swathe of amber-brown skin to just beneath her breasts. His brows drew down and she couldn’t tell if he was interested or disgusted.

Then his gaze lifted to hers and his surprise was unmistakable.

“ Shaa’baara ?” His voice was deep and gravelly, and held a note of uncertainty.

That’s right, big guy, she thought, and again fought an urge to giggle hysterically. I’m offering you a trade. Or at least, I’m letting you think I am.

First chance she got, she’d gun the bastard down. He’d kindly fixed her pulse weapon for her and it was a mistake he’d live to regret.

The Vraxian lowered the blaster and Kara exhaled in relief. The jerk had fallen for her ruse.

She watched as he retrieved his laser-blade from the body of the spider-beast. Her heart stuttered when he swept it towards her, but he merely cut the filaments binding her legs. Then he retracted the blade and stowed the hilt in his thigh holster.

“ Gresh.”

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… so fragile .

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 of shaa’baara had 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.