Alien Dragon's Baby: A Scifi Alien Romance (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss)

by Miranda Martin

  "I think that's the edge up there," Jolie gasps.

  Amara and I nod. I can't bear the idea of speaking anymore. My throat is too dry. I work my mouth trying to force moisture into it but get nothing. My sinuses are even burning making me not want to inhale the air. I blink trying desperately to at least force the grit out of my eyes but no luck there either.

  We reach the edge of the ship and I lean against it trying to soak up the small comfort of its coolness. Amara pushes forward and disappears around the edge. I dig up the willpower at last to follow her and make my way around the corner. The sand pulls at my legs with every step making everything even harder. This place sucks.

  Once I clear the corner the ship goes on for quite a ways but the first thing I notice is there's a tear that I can see in to and there are people moving in and out of it. They've stopped to look at Amara and I then a few of them rush over and embrace me then I fall into their arms and they carry me and the others inside. It's cool and dark and the most amazing, wonderful feeling I've ever experienced. It's perfect. Cool, no sun, thank you all the stars in heaven there's no sun beating on me!

  They get our small group inside and then Rosalind, the woman in white we met just before everything went to hell walks up. She stands imperiously tall and perfect, like even the sun can't break through her defenses. She's perfect and I swear she's not sweating which is just weird. She stares pursing her lips as if debating her words carefully.

  "What is your specialty?" she asks.

  I blink and squint my eyes focusing on her. That's not anywhere in the realm of questions I expected and I'm having a hard time making sense out of it.

  "Huh?" I ask in a display of utter brilliance.

  "Your specialty? What was your job?" she repeats speaking slower.

  Maybe it helps because it does penetrate the constant throbbing in my head even if it's not the question I would have expected.

  "Bio-chemistry," I answer her. "Specifically pertaining to botany."

  "Good, we'll need you."

  "Good?" I agree with askance.

  What does she mean good? What if it wasn't good?

  "We need to find water," I gasp.

  The Lady General motions with one hand without taking her eyes off of our group. Some of the people already inside come over with containers filled with cool water. All of us grab them and gulp. The cold hits my throat like a soothing balm.

  "Slow down," Rosalind orders.

  My stomach cramps hard as the cold hits it and I double over in pain. Amara was smarter and had been sipping her water where the rest of us had gulped. The pain and nausea recede and my headache returns to a dull pounding roar at last so I stand up and face the woman in white who has now turned her attention back to issuing orders to the other survivors.

  "What happened? Where are we? How did we get here?"

  She turns to look at me as the small group that came with me gather closer. Jolie and Inga are clinging to my arms on either side of me and even Amara has moved closer to listen. Rosalind sighs as she turns her full attention to us. Some of the other survivors have stopped their gathering and organizing to listen as well. Rosalind looks around, pursing her lips, then comes to a decision. She moves a couple of feet away and climbs on top of several crates of supplies and holds her hand up to all of us. We gather closer around her to listen.

  "All right, all of you," she says and her voice carries across those gathered easily. "Here is what we know for certain. Our ship, our home, was attacked by space pirates. They damaged the life support and sent the ship into an emergency survival condition. This means sections of the ship were sealed off and because of the damage done they broke into sections. We crash landed on an inhospitable planet. Survival is our first priority."

  "What about rescue?" someone in the crowd asks.

  "There will be no rescue," Rosalind says.

  Gasps and cries of despair rise from those gathered. My stomach clenches into a tight knot as the enormity of the situation settles on me. I turn and look at Jolie and see the tears in her eyes. Inga is gripping my arm tight enough to cut off the blood flow to my hand which is tingling and numb.

  "Damn," Amara says softly.

  "We can survive," a beautiful blond says stepping forward to stand in front of Rosalind. Her hair is so light as to appear almost white and halo like in the red sun piercing the shadows of our shelter. She smiles and it's like a soothing ray of light passes over the crowd. "We just have to organize. Work together, we'll be all right. Someone will rescue us eventually but until then we have to work together."

  Rosalind looks down at her and nods.

  "Mei is right," she says. "We have to focus on immediate needs. Gathering survivors, fixing this shelter, food and water. After that we'll handle those who didn't make it but for now survivors first. This heat we have to be careful, does everyone know the signs of heat stroke?"

  Several people acknowledge they do among scattered muttering.

  "Who put you in charge?" a man asks from the crowd.

  Rosalind looks for the source but no one is stepping forward. Almost I think I recognize the voice but it can't be him. My head hurts so much I just push it aside for now.

  "I am Lady General Rosalind, Head of Security, if anyone else feels they are more qualified than I to lead this mission of survival, then I welcome them to step forward."

  No one does and that seems to settle things for the moment.

  A curvy girl with auburn hair steps forward from the crowd. I know her from the ship, her name is Lana. She's wearing a low cut shirt that shows off her ample cleavage and skin tight pants. She looks up back at the crowd then up at Rosalind.

  "What about the pirates? Did they crash too? Do we have to worry about them as well?"

  "I've had a few scouts sent out and we've seen no sign of their ship or them," Rosalind says.

  "But does that mean we are safe?" Lana asks.

  "What's your name?" Rosalind asks.

  "Lana," she responds, one hand on her hip.

  "Lana, I'm putting you in charge of a small team that will scout the area specifically to seek out any threats, pirate or otherwise we need to be aware of."

  "I don't-" Lana says.

  "Thank you Lana," Rosalind says cutting off her objections. "Your contribution is appreciated. Your name?"

  Rosalind is pointing at me now and my heart skips a beat.

  "Calista," I say.

  "Botanist?" she asks.

  "Yes," I say.

  "Okay, those three with you there, you all work with Lana. Calista I want you to get to work studying the local fauna. We need to establish food sources. Our existing supplies are limited and we'll need to supplement them soon as possible. Any other questions?"

  Rosalind looks over the crowd imperiously. A few mutter but no one speaks up.

  "Good then get to work. We've got a lot to do. Once we gather and store most of the supplies we'll set up teams to care for those who didn't survive. Be careful, we know nothing of this planet and all our computers are gone. We're working blind."

  The crowd disperses and I turn back to my friends.

  "Well that was interesting," Amara says softly.

  "Yeah," I agree. "Guess we all have jobs to do."

  "I guess someone has to take charge," Inga says.

  "I don't want you on your own," Jolie says looking at me.

  "Yeah, me either but I don't think the Lady General is interested in other people's bright ideas," I say.

  We part ways all heading towards our assignments. I gather some water, salt tablets, and rations as well as find a poncho made of reflective cloth that the person assigned to be the survivors quartermaster says will help disperse the heat. I take it all, gear up, and head out to study the local environment.

  4 LADON

  The herd of bivo circles then stops and roots into the sand with their protruding tusks. I'm buried in the sand so they don't catch my scent, watching and waiting. The alpha of this herd is larger than
most I've seen with a multitude of scars and broken spikes showing how many times he's defended his position. I hiss my excitement. This will be an excellent test and his meat will be all the more succulent for his experience.

  The wind blows along the dunes as I watch them root down until they find some food. Suddenly the wind shifts and the alpha bivo lifts his mighty fur covered head. He stares directly at my hiding place and paws the ground snorting violently. The shift in the wind brought my scent to him. I stand letting the red sand slide from my back as I climb into a crouch with my lochaber gripped tightly in my right hand. I stare into the crimson red eyes of my prey. He snorts and shakes his head. I hiss my challenge back to him while his herd moves away. He's the only fully adult male and his females will not fight unless I attack their calves. Their defense is on him.

  He gallops forward four steps then stops and snorts again shaking his large head. He's so close I can smell his animal scent of manure and fur. He bares his teeth and lets out a howling roar as he rises his head as far as his massive neck will allow. I hiss louder in return and brace myself for his charge leaning forward so I'm on the balls of my feet. He's at least three tons of animal about to charge, if I'm not quick enough he'll trample me and another will claim my territory and my city. I won't allow that.

  I lean forward pointing my lochaber towards the alpha and hiss loudly. My threat is met with his own. He stomps the ground, shakes his head, then he charges. The ground trembles under my feet as he pounds his way towards me across the shifting red sand. I stay in my crouch waiting, my tail shifts side to side and I pull my wings in close to my back. Closer, I can smell his foul breath as he closes with me. I wait, patient, the beating of his hooves on the ground is vibrating up through my legs and my heart falls into time with it.

  His red eyes are close enough I can see the white edges of them and the grit gathered in the corners when I leap. My wings open as I lunge to the side and back. My lochaber comes up and I swing it around while my tail whips in at the bivo's eyes. Two handed I bring the lochaber down over my head and onto the creature's neck as my tail rakes its eyes. It bellows in pain and surprise as the sharp edge of my lochaber cuts through its hide to lodge in its spine. My tail takes out its eyes at the same time. A bivo is most dangerous when it's wounded and I'll take no chances with it.

  I lower myself to the ground a few feet away leaving my lochaber buried in the alpha and wait while it fights against an enemy it can't see. It turns, snorts, roars, charges forward in the wrong direction, then whirls and charges another way. Blood pours from its wounds and it's slowing. It won't be long now. I crouch into the sand and shift sinking myself into the dune. It keeps my temperature adjusted and provides camouflage from any other predators or warriors while I wait.

  The bivo fights and turns. Its herd mills and lows in the distance lost without their leader. Some other male will come and pick them up and the cycle will continue so I pay them no mind. The alpha stumbles falling to its knees then fights its way back to its feet once more. It sniffs the air and must catch a hint of my scent because it turns to face me then stomps forward. It makes it five steps before it's on its knees again. This time it won't be getting back up. It falls to its side and I rise from the sand walking over to it.

  Grasping my lochaber with both hands I jerk it free then clean the blade with sand. I pull out my hunting knife and field dress the bivo so that the meat doesn't spoil. This will feed me for many months. Cleaning and dressing it takes time. I watch the herd as I work making sure they don't take an interest but they decide to wander off.

  A bright light flashes in the sky. I stand up and shield my eyes, closing my protective lids, and stare into the red sky. Another flash so bright it rivals the sun itself blazes then there's a white streak streaming across the horizon. Tightening my grip on my lochaber my gullet rumbles and I spring to my feet keeping an eye on the streak. As it falls I make out a shape at the lead of it. Something massive is falling from the heavens. I distantly remember such things happening. So long ago my memory of it has become hazy, we traveled and traded with the stars. Now the stars look to return to us? I'll have whatever treasure is there first. No other can have it. This is my territory.

  Looking back to the south towards my city I debate how far I will have to travel. My kill is only partly harvested but the pull of treasure is strong. I can hunt anytime, the treasures from the sky will not wait and I must get there first. My decision made I start running across the hot, red sand. I fall into an easy gait, spreading my wings keeps me light allowing me to move across the sand with ease.

  I'll gather whatever treasures I can carry and take them back to my city. My ancient home where once there were so many of us. I wonder what it is that has fallen from the stars. As I run it occurs to me, what if there are survivors?

  Others came here, before the wars, before the devastation. I hiss thinking of the aftermath of war. The ancient cities are now ruins, my once populace people devastated, how many years has it been since I've seen another? Too many and no females, my tail stiffens and shakes thinking of females. My race is dying. The handful of us left live with no purpose but our territory and the treasures we collect with no heirs to hand them to.

  Cresting a dune I see the object on the horizon. The sun glints off of its massive metal sides so large it looks like it could be part of a city of its own. The structure looms high, standing over the dunes and hills in the distance and there is debris scattered across the sand between here and there. I crouch down and study what I see before deciding to move closer. There are things moving across the sand looking at the debris. They're dressed strangely and despite the distance I know they're not Zmaj. What they are I don't know but I'm going to find out.

  I move forward stealthily. The strangers wander across the sand fighting it instead of working with it. They sink in and push their way forward. As I get closer I see they have no tails for balance and no wings to offset their weight. They are very poorly made for survival. Shifting myself into the sand I settle in and watch, studying them. They wander around gathering items and carrying them back to the giant object. The landscape is littered with their bodies laying around and not moving. Those that are moving begin going to them one at a time and poking at each of those lying around. Sometimes the ones lying get up but most of the time two of the mobile ones grab the fallen by either end and carry them back to the object.

  The sun passes overhead and still they wander around. One of them breaks off from the rest and marches straight off on its own. I watch this one as it goes. As it comes closer I see enough to define details for the first time. As soon as I do I recognize that it's a she. The features of its face are delicate without ridges or scales. Delicate, like a fine milky glass, but pink from exposure to the sun. She has long hair that comes down past her shoulders. Her lack of a tail and wings is fascinating. It forces her to move much slower than is ideal. She marches over the dune so I shift and follow her staying low to the ground so as to not be noticed.

  She sways at the hips as she walks. It's enticing and stirs thoughts and emotions I've not felt in decades, since before the war times. I watch each movement with great interest as her hip moves left then right, left then right, swaying with each step. She pauses and looks side to side then pulls a bottle from a bag at her hip and raises it to her lips. She has full, red lips that purse to take in the liquid and they are beautiful like the rest of her skin though they seem to be dry. Moisture beads on her brow and runs down. She wipes it away with one hand the shields her eyes and looks out across the dunes. Why is she leaking precious moisture like that? She spots a mirbalis plant in the distance and says something in a foreign language that I don't comprehend before quickly moving towards it. Well quickly for her with her poorly designed body. Poorly designed maybe but it's fascinating and I want it. I will add her to my treasures and care for her.

  I follow as she approaches the plant. She kneels down next to it then pokes at it and does other things with her finger
s I don't understand. Apparently satisfied at last she stands up and looks around again. I hold still and let her eyes pass over me as I blend in with the landscape. She wavers side to side, different this time than when she walks, it's not enticing but worrisome. Her skin is flushed a deep red and moisture is no longer forming on her brow. She takes a long drink off of the bottle from her bag then fumbles to put it back where she got it from.

  She turns and starts walking but the sway is gone. She staggers as she walks and barely keeps herself upright. I debate revealing myself to her now but decide it best to wait a bit longer. I want to see what she is doing and ascertain her and the others' intentions. I'd like to know why they are here. Have they come for the epis? Is this the beginning of a new war?

  I stalk her as she walks and staggers more then suddenly she stops and stands up straight. She cries out a wounded sound like a bivo that has been pierced then she collapses to the ground. My heart skips a beat as I watch. Is she hurt? Is that sound one of pain or pleasure? I hold my position just long enough to see if she moves again. When she doesn't I rush forward. Her eyes are closed and her face and arms are flushed. Her lips are dry and chapped. The heat is too much for her, she's not equipped for survival here. I look around and see no others of her kind. I can't leave her here, she's in my territory, and I like the way she looks. She needs help and her companions are no better off here than she is so they cannot do it.

  I'll save her. I touch her face then her hands. She's soft, incredibly so, it's strange. Her temperature is the same as that of the sand. Her body and lack of scales is not transferring the heat efficiently. I dig into her bag and find the bottle I saw her drinking from earlier. I pour some of the clear liquid across her lips. It flows into her mouth and at last she swallows. I pour some of the coolness across her face then I gather her up into my arms heading for home. She will be my greatest treasure.