Barbaric Alien

by Stella Sky

  I scraped the last of my lip balm out of the measly tin I’d been trying to salvage for the last two years and smattered it across my chapped lips. Then I grabbed my coat, my guns, and headed for the door.

  We all met outside of Baxley’s trailer: a pale-yellow unit that must have been white at some point or another. It had a distinct green stripe around the top of it, making it easy to find when we’d first moved in. It also had a handful of plastic flowers that decorated its front, even during the winter months.

  A large bonfire boomed from within a metal trash bin, warming the lot of us who sat in a semi-circle.

  “Tell us what you saw out there, kid,” Baxley spoke in his gravelly voice, lighting up a cigarette and taking a quick puff on it.

  The small audience of my fellow soldiers looked at me like I had a tale to tell and I wondered what Baxley had made our little venture in the woods out to be.

  As I repeated the story—Karen’s theory—Baxley frowned at me, taking another long drag from his cigarette.

  “So here’s the deal,” Baxley said into the crowd. “If Karen really believed that the creatures go straight-lined after mating, then I think that’s a theory worth checking out. Especially if what Sidney’s saying is right about the Vithohn talking. Sounds like Karen and Tiffany are already establishing a relationship with these creatures.”

  “Are you kidding me?” the wispy blonde, Evelyn, spat out. Her Southern drawl always got heavier when she was mad, and right now she seemed entirely pissed. “And you wanna send ‘Sid out to be the guinea pig?”

  She said it like I was special. Like she knew something I didn’t; that it would be appalling for him to choose me of all people. I cocked a brow at this but said nothing, feeling awkward and centered out.

  “Yeah,” Baxley snapped. “Sid knows exactly what she’s doing. She has more experience with fighting these things, outsmarting these things, than the rest of us put together.”

  Our commodore then looked at me for confirmation: for my consent to go out and be raped by one of these creatures or to seduce it, as though that were any different.

  Still, I nodded.

  I heard a wave of sighs and gasps throughout our little militia, and I looked around in wonder.

  Another voice sounded up then: Rebecca Downes. She was thirty-six years old, a full-chested woman with round saucer eyes and auburn hair.

  “Are you sending in a team or just Sid?” she asked, perplexed and slightly terrified.

  “We’ll be watching from afar; we’ll do check-ins,” Baxley said. “But you think we’re sending in—”

  Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, Rebecca was already cutting him off. “Are the Vithohn cognizant enough to recognize whether that would be suspicious or not?”

  Baxley inhaled from the stub of his cigarette then, smoking it right down to the filter before throwing it to the ground and stubbing it out with his boot heel.

  He looked at me with some unease and said, “Sidney says she saw one of them in conversation; that one let her go. If that’s true, then maybe.”

  “What?” Evelyn looked at me. “Why did he let you go?”

  “All of our studies have shown these things are driven by instinct,” Rebecca said surely. “Driven by aggression. Are you sure he saw you?”

  “We made direct eye-contact,” I said, getting my back up already.

  For they love me and don’t want to see me go, now they question me.

  “Are you sure?” the auburn woman pleaded.

  “I’m sure,” I snapped.

  “Then…” Rebecca relented: conceded to our orders, “I guess it’s something we have to look into.”

  “Of course it is,” Baxley said, gathering up a bag of pre-packed supplies and walking it over to me slowly. “Karen believed that when they pair with a mate, there is a hormone released in their bloodstream that wakes them up. Makes them cognizant; gives them some perception and understanding.” He looked down at the papers he’d taken from Karen’s trailer and then finished, “Like being born again.”

  “What does that mean?” came yet another protest from a bald man in his mid-forties.

  His name was Roy, but I always loved calling him by his full name: Roy Kenneth Darwin. It always sounded so badass to me when I was a kid.

  He had a cool-dad vibe; very tough but funny. Someone you both want to hear stories from and stories about.

  “Karen seemed to think that the Vithohn don’t have thoughts or perception until they mate,” Baxley enunciated.

  I felt like we’d been over the topic for hours already.

  “You’re sending her to sleep with the thing?” Roy Kenneth Darwin spat, looking and sounding disgusted. “That’s so dangerous, I don’t even know where to begin my argument.”

  “Yep,” Baxley snipped, dropping the bag into my hand. “It’s dangerous. There’s a chance he could rip her apart before even getting… to that.”

  “That’s for the visual,” I snarked.

  Baxley offered me a playful salute, his only reprieve from the annoyance he was feeling with the rest of our crew.

  “That’s your answer?” Roy Kenneth Darwin said, incredulous. “Really?”

  “What other choice do we have?” Rebecca now argued. “We have to follow through with every lead. And if Tiffany’s there…” The girl looked at me then, eyes pleading as she whispered, “You saw her, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Then there has to be some truth to her theory,” she affirmed. “We have to follow up.”

  “Or not!” Roy Kenneth Darwin argued, throwing his hands up into the air and closing the semi-circle gap between him and Baxley. “Or maybe we finally admit we lost! The war happened, and we lost, and now this is our lives.”

  Evelyn cleared her throat; her tiny frame was looking so out of place in this big argument as she whimpered, “Or we…”

  “What?” the man snapped at her, thinking he was coming to my defense somehow. “We have Sid screw them into submission?”

  “If it works?” Rebecca stammered. “Yeah! That’s exactly what we do! Otherwise, we’re dead. We’ve all agreed to take risks, right?”

  “Enough!” I finally yelled; my head was pounding from the cold and the arguing. “Look, all I know is that when this thing looked at me, he saw me. There’s something to it, guys, and we have the power to make these creatures disposed to reason, then we have to try. You guys may not be willing to go do the footwork, and I don’t mean that as a shot against anyone, but I am.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Evelyn asked.

  Baxley offered me sincere eyes and said, “We send Sid to the grassland to the north.”

  “Why there?” came another voice from the crowd: someone I couldn’t spot.

  “I’ve seen the Vithohn there a number of times. They scout around, eat, gather… One at a time, or at the very least, in a small group,” Baxley began. “Sid shows up there, then there’s a higher chance she can get one-on-one time with the thing.”

  “And how does she do this without getting…” Roy Kenneth Darwin began but seemed to think better of his sentence.

  Without getting killed is what he wanted to say.

  Instead, he finished, “While staying safe?”

  “We send Lele with her,” Baxley said, speaking of our resident cyborg. She was a beautiful robot with gorgeous brown hair. “She’s armed. Sid will go out there, try to make a connection.” Then he looked at me. “You’ll have to come at him straight away; you got it?”

  I could tell it pained him to ask it of me. A voluntary rape. His eyes darkened as he looked in my direction and I nodded as though he’d given me any other mundane order that served us day to day. I tried to look professional; tried to shield him from any guilt.

  “Once he’s claimed you, you’ll continue to establish a connection with him, then find the girls, Tiffany and Karen. Try and get in contact with us, unless it’s too difficult. Find a way to bring him back here. Then we get information
out of him, lock him up, and go from there.”

  The night wore on, talking about what I might do to seduce the alien lifeform and gain his trust.

  We’d long left our group in the middle of Sunnydale, and I found myself drawn to Baxley’s trailer, watching the flakes of paint come off the railing leading up to his door and rapping gently on it before walking in.

  Walking in felt brave and brazen: characteristics I had taken on drunken nights of days past. I thought I might catch him in bed, but he was sitting at his desk, loading and unloading the cartridge of his gun.

  His ears pricked back when my footsteps hit the floor, and I walked up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder.

  “This is it, kid?” he said, not looking at me.

  “Wise man once said it’s better to leave at night,” I teased. “They have bad night vision, right?”

  “We don’t know if they can sense heat or not,” he warned numbly.

  “It’s okay,” I smirked. “I run cold, remember?”

  He grabbed my hand then and pulled it from his shoulder and up to his lips, the hairs of his beard bristling against me as his square lips made contact with my eternally-cold hands.

  I swallowed as he made the movement, remembered that he was my commodore, but still, I left my hand in his when he finished the peck.

  “Scared?” he asked, still not making eye contact.

  I shook my head, and he finally turned to me.

  “You?” I asked.

  “Damn well terrified,” he laughed bitterly.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I teased, and he pulled me into his lap. He leaned back so that my whole body could fit on him, taking me into his arms even as I pulled my legs up to my chest. I thumbed across the cleft of his chin and leaned in, tasting his lips with mine.

  He followed my lead, as he did in most moments where I breached the boundaries of our relationship. His tongue flicked into my mouth, and I felt a lilt in my chest that made me want to do things we didn’t have the time, or the emotional capacity, for at the moment.

  I pulled back, finally breaking out contact and then pressed my forehead up against his.

  “I’m terrified,” he repeated with a big swallow.

  “Don’t do that,” I whispered with a sad laugh, smelling his salty breath on me while our faces were still so close together. “If you’re okay, I’m okay: remember?”

  “Yeah,” he breathed.

  I allowed myself one minute longer of utter silence with the older man, and then I stood up, fast, and briskly walked across the small trailer.

  “Lele’s waiting,” I said, signaling my leave.

  The doorknob turned in my palm, and I didn’t wait for him to say goodbye.

  Chapter Four

  Tessoul

  “Don’t touch that!”

  Yet another order I wasn’t fond of hearing. Still, coming from Jareth, my short little friend who I’d grown quite attached to, it sounded quite comical.

  I looked through the various gadgets and buttons hoisted on the metal walls of the science lab and then turned to a frantic Jareth, a Yaclion species, who was talking gibberish into a recording device.

  While the Vithohn were towering, broad creatures, the Yaclion barely came up to my thigh. He was a blue being in heavy armor to hide his scrawny figure. Long, wispy arms and thick stubby legs assured the land dwellers moved slowly.

  “I’m so glad to see you arrived safely, Tessoul,” Jareth said, waving me over to him.

  Jareth inhabited the science wing of our space-station base. He was always coming up with new ideas and weapons for us: ways to cultivate food. Sometimes I thought he was the smartest among us.

  In fact, I knew he was.

  He was the only one of us who had managed to figure out how to put human technology to good use.

  “The wind is so cold out there,” he weaseled, brushing his shoulders with his long, thin arms and bristling his four immense fingers against them. “I hate it.”

  “I’m troubled,” I said, dismissing his interest in human weather.

  “I sense that,” he said. He had a good knack for that. “Do you want to see what I’m working on? Earth has fascinating resources.”

  “Sure, why not,” I laughed, walking up to his table. “Lay it on me.”

  A collection of swords and pistols were laid out before me, and I began fingering each weapon, hearing their descriptions with fascination as Jareth spouted off.

  He had a narrow, square jaw and round skull with a rock-hard fin set in the middle of his forehead. His eyes protruded from his face, big and red, and his nose consisted of two small slits.

  I picked up one of the pistols and felt it in my hand, crisp and rubbery as the grip bumped against my palm. It felt good.

  Really good.

  Jareth had a massive arsenal he’d accumulated for the Vithohn, yet I still couldn’t shake the need to destroy with my bare hands. To be able to feel what was happening, not just to make it happen.

  “You’re in poor spirits, friend,” Jareth said, seeming to remember somewhat late that I’d come to him with a problem. He spoke slowly, with a nasal drawl. He was an eager, scatterbrained genius. But still a genius.

  He continued to lay out various gadgets and tech onto the matted table, toddling slowly across the office. “What seems to be troubling you?”

  “My commander,” I breathed.

  His red eyes went wide, and I could tell he wanted to smile, but he didn’t.

  “Best not to say that too loud,” he offered shyly.

  “Let him hear!” I yelled: my voice echoing across the lab.

  “Temper, temper!” he swatted a tall finger at me. “Now, what’s the problem?”

  “The humans,” I said.

  He blinked. “Well, is it your commander or the humans?”

  I chuckled, taking a seat in the tiny, swirling stool at the counter. “It’s both.”

  “Ah. The humans.” Jareth look startled, running his hands along the weapons over and over again like he was nervous about something.

  “The humans. The humans,” he hummed. “Hm. I feel like the humans… the humans are doing something.”

  “Here I thought there were no humans left,” I muttered. “Yet, poof! They keep appearing like magic and our commander, our Voth, wants nothing more than to…”

  I paused and tried to test the word or terminology with my tongue, but nothing would come out.

  “Mate with them?” Jareth said, finally taking his eyes off his weapons long enough to look up at me with pursed brows.

  He was standing, fully erect on the stool next to me, yet he still seemed so small.

  I smiled, flushed, then waved him off.

  “Not even them,” I scoffed. “Just her.”

  “They make me sick, all of them,” Jareth mumbled in a simple manner, as though I couldn’t be sure whether he was just agreeing to appease me, or if he really had an opinion on the humans.

  “I’m absolutely fascinated with them,” he said suddenly in a tone that went up near the end: absent-minded but truthful. “But sick.”

  “I feel a rage here, Jareth,” I said carefully. “This foreign soil makes me feel… unnerved.”

  Jareth handed me a long, glowing rifle and secured my hands on it. I looked down at its purple hue and then back to him, puzzled. In response, he grabbed the back of my head and forced me to look down the sight of the barrel.

  “It’s good,” I affirmed, and he snatched the weapon from my hand, setting it back down on the table and removing several new guns and swords from a thick cloth buried in his armpit.

  “I think I know why,” Jareth said, still not looking at me. “Something’s coming.”

  “That’s ominous,” I scoffed with a laugh. “More humans?”

  Jareth tapped his chin but didn’t seem willing to give me a proper answer.

  “I’ll give you a clue, Jareth. They’re already here!” I tilted my head back and felt my limp spire drape agains
t the tiled floor, and I began to sway it from side to side, agitated.

  The Yaclion slapped another weapon into my hand, a laser sword, and steadied the grip in my palm before hitting a button on the handle that shot out a laser blade; black heat was radiating at me.

  Instinctively, I held the weapon far from my face and extended both my hands forward, feeling like an idiot.

  Jareth shook his head, unsure what weapon he should give me that would get a satisfactory reaction.

  He scurried to the other side of the room before making a slow return back to our seats. Then, with an outstretched arm, he placed a strange little gun into my palm. Small, hot, and wiry.

  “Apparently, pockets of them just keep… cropping up!” I exclaimed.

  “I feel something,” he said with suddenly narrowed brown bones; his smooth skin was taking on a rough texture and dotting with black spots. A sign of worry or irritation.

  “I feel a headache,” I said, rubbing my temple with my free hand. “So, what does this thing do anyway?”

  “It’s a heat projectile,” he said, turning the weapon in my hand and showcasing with his fingers how it might be used. “It bursts forth flames. Good for hunting, heat, h—”

  “You know we inhabit their houses, right?” I laughed. “Temperature’s regulated.”

  He narrowed his brows, as though he had just remembered he was trying to tell me something. Then he looked at me and announced, “I feel something.”

  “So you keep saying,” I said, bored. “About the humans?”

  “It’s a deep unnerve,” he explained with some confusion. “Yaclion are more attuned to empath relations. I trust that you will feel it too, eventually.”

  “Good to know,” I chuckled. “For the humans? You’ll feel it when they’re near?”

  The blue creature smiled widely, all but calling me silly. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Yet you’re smiling?” I nipped. “Well, whatever it is you’re feeling must be shared by the Voth. Anyone who seems to come into contact with those humans loses their will.”