Endless Night

The drone sprang with its powerful back legs, arms outstretched and claws ready to strike. I bellowed an incoherent battle screech and lashed out with my weapon. The alien pest shrieked as I sliced off one of its large shoulder protrusions.

It wasn't enough to stop it and it slammed into me. I smashed back-first into the wall and the weight of the monster dragged me to the ground.

Grunting and whimpering, I fought to slice with the blade, to thrust it upward. Claws tore the arm of my jacket and my skin, then I found my mark with the blade. The creature snarled and I used all my strength to shove it away from me, the blade driven deep into its chest.

It thrashed on the ground and I rolled away from it after pulling my weapon loose. I had to get away from it, had to crawl . . .

White-hot pain exploded on my shoulder blade. I screamed and flipped over, convulsing once. The drone was looming over me to strike. Acid blood poured from its open chest and I squirmed away from it.

I'd pulled out the only thing plugging up its wound.

Its blood ate through my jacket and seared my skin. I kicked its leg out from under it, making it stumble and fall. Just in time, I yanked my leg back to avoid dripping acid.

It screeched and reached out with a claw, tearing my pant leg, but a swift chop to the closest leg ensured it couldn't stand.

The barb-tipped tail lashed out at me, striking the ground by my hip. I thrashed and somehow pulled my feet under me enough to propel away from it.

I had to put some distance between us, had to deal with this burn . . .

The pain was almost unbearable. There was only one thing I could think to do: I would have to get closer to the alien, though.

Copious amounts of drool was pooling beneath it and that was the answer.

In the egg chamber, covered in resin, the bodies of the facehuggers and drones hadn't done anything. Outside, on the normal floors—my shoes, my pant legs—they had smoked and sank into the floor.

Those things didn't burn themselves.

It slashed again with its tail and I batted it away with the flat part of the blade. I was quickly losing mobility in my left arm from the pain, but I didn't want to get close even if this thing was crippled by its open chest.

The alien was convulsing on the floor, screaming and slashing like the cornered beast it was. In a last-ditch effort, I moved as close as I dared and chucked my sword blade-first with all the force I could muster. It sank through the alien's chitinous skull.

When it didn't move, I pulled the blade out with a jerk and then stabbed it again for good measure.

Stumbling and panting, I fell to the floor. I watched the thing for a heartbeat to make sure it was dead, before I got up close and personal with it.

My shoulder blade stung with an intensity that brought tears to my eyes, and I feared the acid-blood would eat through me. If my theory was incorrect, I was going to really wish I had let it kill me.

Thick, viscous saliva dribbled from the its maw. Though it made my skin crawl, I coated my fingers in the nastiness and rubbed some of it all over my shoulder blade. It hurt to touch and I could already tell how marred the skin was.

How much longer before it had started eating at my bones?

Though the pain didn't stop, it didn't worsen. Above all, the sound of sizzling skin ceased. I had chosen correctly.

Relief came with more slime and I held my arm tight to my chest. Every breath was a pained wheeze, my mouth agape in silent screams as I waited for at least some of the pain to stop.

My entire body trembled. I swallowed hard and leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath. There wasn't much time for rest, this I knew, but even a couple seconds of a reprieve would be good enough.

Slowly, my wound cooled just a little and I could stop sucking in air through my clenched teeth. At least for now everything was quiet.

Then I felt it. That slow, indescribable tingle where spinal cord meets brain. Millions of years of learned instincts telling me that I'm not alone, that there's something behind me.

I opened my eyes and a new bout of adrenaline licked my insides. I didn't know if I had energy to fight off another drone.

My ears strained to listen. I made my breaths more shallow. Then, when I heard the footsteps behind me, I steeled myself.

One step . . . two . . . three.

I whirled around, swinging wildly with the blade. Too late I realized that it was Wolf standing there. He caught my wrist with ease and made a derogatory sound.

Seeing him made me weak with relief and I slumped back against the wall. "You came back for me," I murmured.

He was still holding my wrist and I went white as a sheet when I realized what I'd almost done.

"I—I'm sorry! I wasn't expecting—I thought you'd . . . I'm sorry!" I babbled, relaxing my arm so he would let it go. I was almost afraid he would retaliate.

Wolf watched me, his head cocked to the side, then turned to look at the drone's corpse. He studied it for a moment, then once again shifted his attention to me.

Suddenly, he closed the distance between us with a single stride. It wasn't a particularly threatening gesture, but I was still wound up from my close call and afraid of being punished. I took a step back and tried to dodge around him.

However, he grabbed my upper arm and held me in place. I went rigid, ignoring the vast helplessness I felt. He was faster, stronger . . . I should have been more afraid of him up until right then.

However, he hadnt ever really been violent with me, save for that one time I threw a shoe at him and he considered shooting me.

Oh wait. I had just tried to stab him, however accidentally.

We stared at each other for a few moments. When it was clear I was powerless and I stopped struggling, his grip on my arm loosened to a more comfortable level. When he relaxed, I did too.

His thoughtful chittering took on a different edge as he turned me around. He left me to wallow in my own dark thoughts as he examined the burn on my back. I winced as he gently drew a claw over it, but if it concerned him he didn't show it.

/You're always freaking out about everything,/ I chided myself.

Forget the fact that death lurked around every corner. I supposed complacency wouldn't get me anywhere.

It seemed like the only thing that didn't want to kill me was Wolf, though, so I was going to make more of an effort to put my trust in him.

His fingers were warm to the touch and rough. Each tug of the burned fabric of my jacket made me cringe, but I bit back any protests.

He heaved my jacket up until he almost pulled it off me, but I couldn't get my arm high enough without blackout pain. I squeaked a myriad of profanities and squirmed, but he held me firm. Somehow, his utterings sounded irritated.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a puny fragile human who's not wearing any armor. Bite me." I croaked.

As if affronted, he snorted and leaned away from me, letting go of my jacket. I rolled my eyes and said, "I didn't mean it literally!"

Shaking his shoulders like an irate dog, he reached for me again and tore the back of my jacket more, trying to undress me. I swatted at him with my good arm and danced away from him before he got frustrated and tore it off me.

"Could you not? I don't have any more clothes to wear." He might be confident enough not to wear a full-body armor suit, but I didn't have solid muscle to hide behind, just a jacket.

Sighing, I shot him a glare and started to remove the coat. Each movement twisted the sensitive flesh of my back and threatened to drive me to my knees. Through sheer force of will, I managed to peel it off me.

When next I spoke, it was tense from pain but sharp with frustration. "See? It comes off easy."

Wolf chittered belligerently and spun me around to examine the wound more, then made brace against the wall with my hands. He pulled out his medical kit.

I hadn't seen him refill it, so I assumed he'd done it while I was inebriated by the drug he'd given me. Or maybe even after he'd ditched me.

After a moment of mixing, he spread the concoction on my back.

It stung and made my skin crawl. I managed to stay still, though, except for a few seconds of squirming, and let him finish. Eventually, the heat soothed and numbed, and then he let me up.

Tentative at first, I moved my arm around and rolled my shoulders. After a few seconds of testing out my movements, I decided I would be okay. There was minimal pain and I could feel the skin stretching and rubbing.

Whatever it was, it was probably like alien Neosporin or a liquid bandage. Probably the same stuff he'd put on my bite wound.

I looked over my shoulder to try to get an idea of what it was like, but I couldn't. The wound was too far down my scapula. There was a distinct pucker close to my shoulder, but anything else was lost to perspective.

"So I'm gonna live?" I asked, my voice flat even though I'd meant to be humorous.

He nodded his head and I huffed. At least he hadn't had to stick me with that horse needle again.

Once I had my jacket back on, he made me take up my weapon. I picked it up where I'd left it to remove my jacket, glad that the extent of the damage was limited to my left side.

Even with the treatment, my arm was still stiff. The drone bite from earlier hadn't so far given me any issue, so I was sure that with some time my shoulder would be okay, as well.

At least until I could seek more in-depth medical help.

His posture told me he was displeased and he grabbed my arm again. I stood rigid as he started to manipulate me.

Despite my minimal struggles and protests, his grip was gentle, if firm. He adjusted my hold on the blade's hilt, pushed my shoulders back, then kicked my legs apart. Before he was satisfied, he had to make more minute changes to my posture.

The concoction he'd rubbed on my burn helped mute the pain, but there was still discomfort caused by the slightest movements. I could work through it, though. I'd been kicked and stepped on during games and played through twisted ankles. A treated burn was fine.

So I stood there, dumbfounded until he stepped back and appraised my stance.

For most of the fight with the drone and when I'd taken the swing at Wolf, I had been standing like I was in the batter's box. After his ministrations I was bent at the waist, my arm held out to my side and blade raised.

I felt absolutely ridiculous, if not more stable.

Mostly ridiculous.

He extended his own, smaller blade and mimicked my posture. I let my stance slacken, afraid he was asking me to fight; that was the last thing I wanted to do. Wolf showed me his displeasure by lashing out and striking my arm with the flat of his blade. He punctuated it with a sharp growl.

"Ow!" I recoiled and gave him a stung look. "You hit me!"

Once again he smacked my arm with the flat side and growled.

"Ow! Knock it off!"

I marveled at the fact that even his half-assed strikes were difficult to follow. I focused and glared at him.

When he raised his arm against me again, though, I was ready. Wolf had made it clear he wasn't actually trying to hurt me, but I still didn't like it.

When he struck at me again, I was ready and I batted him away with my own sloppy parry. His chest rumbled in what I thought was a satisfied purr.

Thinking we were done, I stood at ease, ready to move on to the next step. However, he raised his blade to smack me again. I was able to block before he smacked me.

"Fine! God, stop," I muttered, glaring at him.

Grumbling profanities, I did my best to slide back into the stance he wanted and glowered at him. He appraised me, then gave me some space and mimicked my pose.

What the fuck was going on? Was this a challenge? A lesson? Why?

I didn't understand this guy.

After a second, he swung his blade, making me flinch. It didn't come close to hitting me, though, so I held still. He showed me the swing a couple more times, then watched me expectantly.

I huffed, realized that he wanted me to give it a shot, then tried my best to replicate the way he'd swung, though my range of movement was still limited.

Despite being out of my comfort zone, my shoulder was loosening up and the strike was simple. The blade was heavier in one hand, but still light enough that I could swing without issue.

He made me repeat it a few more times, then stowed his blade and nodded in approval. I stared at him, bewildered, but happy to let my arm rest.

"Why are you doing this?" I blurted out, sounding more demanding than I'd meant.

It wasn't a yes or no question so I wasn't surprised when he didn't answer. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway.

"I thought you had left me. I thought you'd . . . left me to die in that room," I admitted, lowering my head.

He was silent. His gaze burned into me.

"Because I'm weak," I added in a small voice.

There was a long pause, each heartbeat making me more and more nervous. Why'd I have to go and open up like that? He was a pillar of strength and bravado.

And then there was me. Small and vulnerable.

When he finally made a move, I looked up at him through my lashes. He extended his hand and set it down on top of my head. I glowered, assuming he was patronizing me.

He chittered something and turned to motion at the dead drone I had slain.

For a moment I just stared at it, then I looked back up at him. "Yeah, so?" I muttered.

He let his hand fall from my head to my shoulder and then took a step back. He straightened up and then thumped his closed fist against his chest. I watched him, brow knitted, then looked back to the dead drone.

The one I'd killed. By myself. Without his help.

My eyes widened and I looked up at him. I took in the way he was facing me, holding his fist to his chest, the heavy weight of his hand on my shoulder . . . was he acknowledging the kill as some sort of accomplishment?

I supposed in a way it was. The only things I'd killed were a bunch of unborn facehuggers, a couple of live ones, and a chestburster or two.

None of them were particularly capable of defending themselves, they were just super obnoxious. Any drones I'd come across I'd either run from or Wolf had killed for me.

This was my first REAL solo kill.

"What, so like . . ." I fumbled, staring at the corpse. "Are you congratulating me?"

Wolf said something incoherent. It was a single statement, a long word. Nothing like the ones I associated with "yes" and "no". I couldn't even begin to fathom what it meant.

I shook my head and averted my gaze, staring at the dead thing. I said, "Well, thanks, I guess. Just got lucky."

{"Nichole."}

Startled, I snapped my head around. That voice—it was Jess'.

For a moment I had thought . . . but it was just Wolf standing there, looking at me expectantly. I blinked away the tears and reminded myself that he knew not what he did to me, though I wanted to punch him for it.

"What?" I intoned, eyeing him.

He lifted his fist, his wrist rotated outward. I stared at him for a moment, confused, until he urged me on with a gesture and a word.

For a few beats I wasn't sure what he wanted, so I just lifted my own arm, shadowing the way he held his wrist out. It seemed like it was the right thing to do, because he nodded and bumped his wrist against mine.

Realization washed over me and I made an "o" shape with my mouth. It was like a fist bump.

I narrowed my eyes, but couldn't stifle the smile.

"So . . . we're cool, then? I mean, you don't think I'm a waste of space." Somehow, I didn't think he'd understand what "cool" meant in this context.

He rumbled in amusement and left me to go to the drone's corpse. I was feeling better about myself, and as I watched him, a new sort of admiration overwhelmed me.

His poise, his courage, his strength . . . I wanted to be like that, too.