Heaven’s Revenge

The ship is experiencing some turbulence.

I sit on my bed in my sleeping quarters, watching the fluorescent light on my ceiling sway. The bright lights make my eyes hurt, but in a way, the pain is sort of soothing. At least, as long as I don't go blind. That would be a pain in the ass.

The swaying ship isn't my problem. That's what autopilot is for. I'm one of the lucky ones. My war experience got me a first-class seat on the Airship Heaven, a luxury craft where the rich get to live. And, of course, the few like me: army vets, trained to be bodyguards to the rich snobs.

In this case, my military training is a blessing. Most people probably wouldn't have heard the telltale "thunk."

The sound of a grenade, being slotted into an RPG launcher.

I duck under my bed, letting the metal posts form a safe cage. A grenade rolls to a stop mere inches from my face. It hisses, like an angry snake preparing to bite.

It's like no bomb I've ever seen. It's a dark blue box, etched with intricate white lines, almost like letters, though not like any language I've ever seen. Well... almost any.

It looks like the same language as the marks on the silos. That's what we called them. Big thick boxes that came down from the sky, etched with the same markings as this.

The ones sent by the aliens.

I scramble away only to find that the door to my room is shut and locked. Trapped in a room with an alien grenade.

But it doesn't explode. The hissing stops, then a loud pop, and then...

"Cree?" It's a strange sound, almost like you'd imagine the cry of a dinosaur. "Cree! Cree!"

And a strange, reptilian creature toddles towards me, with scales mottled purple and blue like a galaxy, and eyes as black as the space between the stars. He has four tails and four legs, and each tail seems to have a mind of its own. More like tentacles than tails, if you ask me.

Instinct tells me to kill it. But I don't think I can. Whoever shot the gun, it loaded this poor thing into a cannon and shot it at me. How disgusting of them. Seems like shitty parenting, if you ask me, and I know all about shitty parenting.

The creature, as if sensing my moral delimma, comes up to me and butts my leg.

"Crr?"

And just like that, I've got an alien buddy. I'm locked in my room in the middle of space with virtually no supplies. I don't know what it eats. But I'll figure it out.

"What's your name, little guy?"

"Cree!" And for the first time in a long time, I laugh.

"Alright, Cree. Let's find a way out of this room."

I lean over. His four tails all wind around my fingers.

I think, for once in my life, I've made the right choice.