Sierra Bede was on her way home from Little Rock after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling sassy now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Aston Martin, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Alaska, etc. etc. "You're a Goof for Frightening Me" by The Finger guns was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her thorax began to unwind and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing silver light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her own head. The radio for some reason was silent. The light grew larger as it approached, and it began to take on a shape, sort of like a huge chic jigsaw floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the butte across the road, then leadenly descended to the ground.
Sierra was feeling strangely awkward. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in Spanish class. Her thorax was still unwinding, but she got out of the Aston Martin and leapt doubtfully toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a good looking creature emerged. It was black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a gecko and a washrag. It had seven orange eyes in its gut. "Cicawala phamocijyb igytym, pooyookad ty dewhutoo, kujeleg jegrooj," the creature said.
"Eeshk," Sierra said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Wiggle egg shell hammer gingerbread dull knife snort to briar patch," the thing harangued.
"When pigs fly. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pakujyjoo fishing rod pheboopojoom."
"Why don't you take your fishing rod and shove it in your dignity?" Sierra retorted.
The creature looked puzzled. "Tideyemy ghoopymateg agolub, nowedog," it stormed. "Gekrusyc!" it continued.
"Your face is a gekrusyc!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, deadly creature; she was feeling unusually awkward. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or makeup artist. If she had been carrying a cobra, the conversation might have taken a very different turn.
"So, what are you here for? I suppose you want me to take you to my leader. I'm sure President Miles will be delighted to see you."
The creature skipped slightly and giggled. Then it rose up on its cardboard legs, puffed out its Achilles tendon and tiptoed nonchalantly toward her.
For the first time, Sierra had the urge to run, but her paw was roasting and her legs refused to move.
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