Page 2 of Dealing With Drak
As mesmerized by her actions as I am, her efforts are fruitless. There are not many weapons on Urth that can harm our kind—we already checked. And there are none at all that wouldn’t also harm them in the process. Bombs, they are called.
Aprixian bombs are much more sophisticated than Urth ones, too. We have precise lasers, while they have heavy metal pieces of destruction.
Marrec has done much study of this area, much more than the rest of us. Though, Terum was the one who insisted we install the Ang’lish language into our translator capabilities despite the improbability that we may run into living hu-nims. We cannot read the funny symbols written in Ang’lish, but we can hear and speak it with approximately eighty percent accuracy.
Terum is a wise leader. Seeing as we have come face to face with these small Urth dwellers who speak their strange language with far too many words, his guidance has been helpful. But I have always known him to be wise. He is like a father to me—a much better one than my own.
“That one is holding Stevie,” a female gasps. “Don’t make them mad! What if they hurt her?”
“We are not hurting your friend,” I call out, continuing to eye the feisty one who wishes me harm. I do not want these hu-nims to be in distress without cause. “She has fallen and cracked her tiny head.”
“She’s dead?” a new one cries out, clearly panicked.
Another blast.
“Ouch,” I tease. “Stop it, I do not like tickles.”
Marrec gives me an annoyed scowl. “She is alive,” he reports firmly. “I have closed her small cut. She remains unconscious, but she breathes.”
“All right, I’m going to be the one to say it. What the fuck are you guys?”
“Megan,” a female growls.
“What? We can’t kill them, and they said they helped Stevie.”
“And you believe them?” the angry one snaps.
“What other choice do we have?”
“We are of Aprix,” Marrec explains. “Your kind call us ally-ins.”
“Shut up,” one of them shouts. “Aliens don’t exist!”
“Neither did zombies eight months ago,” the female I can not stop gazing at responds, remaining at her distance. “Do something alien-like, and I won’t shoot you again.”
“Oh no,” I taunt, holding up my hands in surrender. “Not the tickles.”
Sighing loudly, Marrec holds up his metal arm. The red chrome spins and retracts, demonstrating the several gadgets stored within. Many startled gasps sound and then one of them comes running around the corner, heading straight for the Stee-vee in his lap.
Her fellow females protest, several calling for her. “Brooke!”
“Fuck you guys,” she snarls at them. “I’m checking on Stevie. You can’t shoot them, and if they’re going to kill me, hiding behind a corner won’t stop them.”
My eyes widen. Is that what they believe?
“Kill you?” I narrow my eyes at the shooter. “Where would the sport be in that? It would be like slaughtering a pack of toddlers.”
It would be easy and yet unimaginable. I would never wish to harm an innocent creature.
The one I believe is called B’rook kneels across from Marrec, bravely turning her chin up to him. “How did she fall?” Gently reaching out, she grazes her small fingers over Stee-vee’s bandaged bit of reddened skin.
“She fell to the ground while I spoke to her of where I am from, and why I am here. Just dropped to the floor without a word.”
B’rook nods softly. “She fainted. Humans do that sometimes when they’re overwhelmed. You probably scared her.”
Marrec looks crestfallen with the news. “Hu-nims shut down with fear? How do you survive predators?’
“Sometimes we don’t,” she says, frowning. “Are there more of you?”