Page 82 of Stripped By the Alien

“‘It could. And an opponent will try this?”

I shrug. “Some opponents will. Grab me again.”

This time he doesn’t try to surprise me, but I feint to the side to force him to misjudge.

He doesn’t. Quick as a cobra he matches my movement, ducks and grabs me around my waist, then lifts me up over his head on straight arms. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Yes, fine,” I concede. “The view up here is very nice, but maybe- aieee!”

He tosses me high into the air, then catches me easily and sets me down. “I like this combat move.”

“That’s not a combat move!” I protest. “That’s just… annoying.”

I swear he chuckles in his alien way. “So quite demoralizing, you mean? Good, I’ll do it more in actual fights.”

“The more you do that, the more likely you’ll lose,” I tell him. “Have you been in many fights?”

“I’m a Chief Harrower,” he says. “Getting to that level meant a lot of fighting, both aliens and my own kind. Some of them used weapons, while I never did. Except for the final blow, the mercy killing, for which I use my dagger. It’s an honor I extend to those fairly defeated.” He gestures for me to come closer. “Now I will teach you something.”

The tone makes me cautious. “What kind of something?”

He gives me an amused look. “The kind that keeps you alive.”

I walk over and he positions me near the center of the room. One large hand settles on my shoulder while he studies me for a moment. “Most of your enemies are larger than you.”

“One, rude. Two, yes, they probably are. So?”

“Most enemies are larger than you,” he repeats. “And stronger. If one catches you, strength will not save you.”

I roll my eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”

He frowns. “Are you about to faint?”

I easily out-frown him. “Huh? To faint? No.”

“Then what was that eye thing? A reflex?”

“Mmm… yes. A reflex I use when someone states the obvious. Saved my life many times.”

“Kindly keep it under control. I find it aggravating.” His hand rises and one long claw stops beside my eye. “If you are trapped in combat, strike here.”

“The eye? That could blind somebody.”

“Exactly!” he beams. “You’re getting it. Very good. Unfortunately we can’t practice that specifically… actually, I can get an underling to practice on. We are at the Nest, where a blind crewmember can easily be replaced. Beast!” he thunders up to the ceiling.

I quickly put a hand on his arm. “Don’t! I don’t want to actually blind someone.”

“No? Then why am I teaching you this?”

“I’m not entirely sure. But I promise to use that move if an enemy attacks me. I don’t want to put my finger in some innocent crewmember’s eye. And I might break my finger trying.”

“Those fingers are laughably thin,” he ponders. “Oh, very well. Eyes are only one option. You can also target breathing organs. Antennae. Any vulnerable structure.” He taps one of his own antennae. “If you can’t escape, cause enough damage that your opponent wishes they had chosen an easier target. Use any means necessary. And allow yourself to not hold back. That’s very important. If you’re in any kind of a fight, you must end that fight. You must. Repeat.”

“I must end the fight,” I state obediently. I suddenly feel a bit raw - this is a lesson I may well come to need. And soon. This is a much more brutal universe than most Earthlings think, and the locust society must be at the very center of that brutality. “Yes, okay. Thanks.”

For a while we continue practicing. Krix’vorr shows me where larger species tend to have weaknesses and how to create opportunities to escape. In return, I keep pointing out the little signals he misses: changes in posture, wandering eyes, tension in the shoulders, and the tiny betrayals that reveal intention before action.

Finally I launch an all-out attack on the giant alien, using all the tricks. He deflects and defends, but can’t get a good hold on me. Seeing an opening, I gently tap the skin right under his left eye.