First contact had not gone as planned. Two dozen dead littered the forest, lying amongst fallen leaves. Rivers ran with their blood.
Only six crew remained, their minds trapped in the heat of battle. She’d been left in charge, the only senior officer left standing.
“Sir,” a crewmate asked, “what’s our objective?”
She looked through the looming shadows of the trees to where the ship was perched on the mountain, its sweeping white lines looking delicate as glass. To get to it, they would have to walk through a mile of unknown territory.
“Forward,” she ordered. “And eyes on the trees.”
They crept on. Rifles swung at the slightest sound. Even their own footsteps made them cringe.
She kept her chin up. She couldn’t let them know she was as terrified as they were.
The trees gave way to the mountain path, the safety of the ship. They all sighed in relief as the hatch opened.
The aliens descended upon them, white teeth shining in crescent mouths, pink, tan, and brown skin gleaming with sweat, five slim fingers clutching rifle triggers.
She struggled, but they were too fast, their weapons too deadly.
The humans showed her crew no mercy.
Word Count: 199
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Photo credit goes to A Mixed Bag.
