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That’s comforting, but we still need to survive until he gets here. “Alright, that’s great. Uh…I’m sorry, I forgot your name…?”
“I’m Lyriana, but you can call me Lyri if that’s too long for you.”
Did she just insult me or offer me friendship? I can’t tell. I brush those thoughts aside. There will be time for them later. Hopefully. “Okay, Lyri, does the ship have a way of telling us how many enemies are around us and where? Like, um…” I pause, racking my brain for the right word. “Life sign detectors?” I try, certain I’ve heard something like that in a movie once.
“Yes. D’Aakh is already reconfiguring the thermal signature sensors. Once we get through the atmosphere, we’ll be able to scan your location.”
“Okay, okay. No rush,” I snicker, firing several shots at the approaching aliens. I’m a little disappointed that the rifle doesn’t make any cool sounds. It makes me want to make a “pew pew” noise as I shoot. I hope it’s just my stressed out mind finding an outlet and not a sign of permanent brain damage.
Lyriana chuckles. “I like you. You’re tough. A good match for Tareq.”
“Um, thanks, I guess? Have you known him for a long time?” This is probably not the best time for this conversation, but I can’t help myself. Both Lizardman and I fire occasionally at the enemy, but we hit nothing. “Have you two ever…?”
“Oh, please. Never,” she snorts. “He’s like an annoying brother to me. I love him, but I want to strangle him at the same time. Scan results are coming in,” she adds, switching to a more serious tone. “I count about two dozen enemies in your immediate vicinity, with more coming your way. Five are crawling over the top of the pod. Be careful if you go out.”
Just as I open my mouth to reply that I wasn’t planning on going out, a smoking ball lands before the door. It’s made up of what looks like moss and vines covered in some sort of tar smelling goop. It’s smoldering, and most of the choking smoke is streaming into the pod.
My eyes water as I begin coughing from the fumes. These fucking locals are a little too clever for my taste. They might not have grenades, but that doesn’t mean they can’t force us out of our hiding spot.
Lizardman drops on all fours and crawls through the door to kick the smoking ball away. I shoot blindly at the rocks in the distance, vaguely aware that I should be providing cover fire. Or something. I’m not a military strategist.
A spider jumps at him from above and I’m reminded of Lyriana’s words. Five on the pod.
Before I can take aim, the eight-legged wolf rushes past me, throwing himself at the spider monster. He claws and bites at the spider’s legs, jumping away before the spider can fight back.
Two more enemies join the fight. Not wanting to waste anymore time, I take aim and shoot one down while the other lunges at the wolf.
A shot from behind me hits him in his ugly spidery abdomen. I glance over my shoulder, unsurprised to see Nikolai wielding a rifle. “I hate guns,” he notes, scowling at the enemies outside. “I fucking hate killing things!”
He might hate it, but he’s pretty good at it.
I sprint outside to kick another smoke ball out of the way, ducking behind a rock. A spear flies overhead, clanking against the pod wall. I shoot back, a wild wave of satisfaction sweeping through me when I hear a painful grunt. “Take that, assholes!” I yell at no one in particular.
The remaining two spiders from the roof of the pod try to get behind Nikolai and me, but the wolf takes care of one. A multitude of our fellow companions pile on the other one and there’s a sound of tearing that has me looking away in a combination of admiration and disgust.
There’s a brief reprieve. Surprised by our resistance, the enemies stop attacking to come up with a new strategy. They’re still throwing spears, though, reminding us they’ve not given up.
It sucks. I mean, what did we ever do to them?
Then I realize that the slavers probably landed here not too long ago and stole some of their people. The spiders have a right to be angry, I guess. I wish we could explain to them that they’re taking their anger out on the wrong people, but that doesn’t seem to be an option.
As I shoot at an enemy in the distance, just to remind them we haven’t given up either, I notice there’s a tiny blinking light atop my rifle, one that wasn’t there before. “Hey, Lyri? Does the blinking light mean this thing will stop shooting soon?”
“That’s correct.” I can’t tell if she’s surprised that a primitive species knows you need to reload your gun or just genuinely glad I asked before I ran out of ammo. “The box where you found the rifles should contain spare cartridges. They’re oval objects, about as big as a finger.”
“My finger or yours?” I joke as I move back into the pod, keeping low to avoid flying spears. “Do you even have fingers?” Maybe Lyriana is a creepy tentacle monster?
I can tell she’s grinning. “I do have fingers. I’m a Zyderi. I think out of all the members of our squad, I’m the most human-like. Except for the horns, that is,” she chuckles. “Oh, and the third breast. Have you found the cartridges?”
Third breast? I shake the image off. There will be time for comparing appendages later.
The air inside the pod is smokey and makes me cough. My poor lungs haven’t recovered from the lack of oxygen back on the ship yet and they make a hearty attempt at exiting my body through my throat. I manage to find the box and scoop a handful of pencil-looking objects before rushing back outside.
“Got ’em,” I reply, my voice hoarse from all the coughing. I think of the injured creatures still huddled inside the pod, feeling sorry for them. Right until a spear flies inches away from my face. Maybe a bit of smoke is better than being skewered.
“Good. There’s an orange button on the top of the rifle. Pressing it will eject the old cartridge, then you can insert the new one.”
The aliens sure like the color orange, I think as I press the button. “Which way do I put the new cartridge in?” It doesn’t seem to have any determining points or signs, like plus and minus signs on batteries.
