Thread: Left For Dead (Friendly Alien/Game Over)

' Mom wasn't all that creative with names ', Ginger thought while leaning her back against the trunk of some fallen timber. ' It could have been worse, I suppose. The woman could have named me something more absurd like Red or Scarlett. Ginger isn't that bad of a name. After all it's a spice, right? I think it is. Could be something else. I wonder if Earth had any flowers called that? Cinnamon might have been an interesting name. I could really go for cinnamon rolls. ' This was just one of the few thoughts racing through the dark haired girl's mind while holding a hand over a large gash in her side. Nothing too deadly. Not if she could find a medi-pack and soon, but it wasn't looking that way. It was just as well. Not like she had many prospects waiting for her back at the colony. No husband, no children. She was a lone woman without any ties and only a fragile reason to hang on. This was just as well. Life in the colony hadn't been fun and games. It was a hard living and Ginger was getting tired of it. A lot of work with very little pay off except the knowledge that their research might preserve some hope for the continuation of mankind. That's all that mattered, right? Her father seemed to think so or he wouldn't have brought his young daughter here. Not that she was a kid anymore. No, Ginger Wallace was a twenty-seven year old woman with a substantial build. Not that she was huge, but this woman definitely held onto her old Scottish roots. And here she was whimpering over something her father would call a flesh wound. Peeling her hand back from the gash, she hissed in pain. It stung like hell and hurt like a bitch. The man was absolutely inhuman when he had been alive. She only hoped that he was annoying his Maker with all the things he used to tell her. ' Pick yourself up, girl. You're a Wallace! Show some spirit. ' There wasn't much along a nurturing side to him. Not after his wife passed away. Smiling softly, she thought of him finally being with her mother. That was a happy thought. The two of them together. As harsh as her father could be... he always had a weakness for his dainty blonde wife. Not that Ginger remembered much about her mother. Just that sweet smile and hair like clouds. It always smelled like... smelled like... god, she couldn't remember. And as Ginger allowed these thoughts to play out, she felt hot tears spilling down her cheeks. Show some spirit, she said through gritted teeth. Her parents deserved better then a whiny kid of a daughter. No, she needed to get up and get moving. It was the only way. Standing at last... she picked up her Remington and machete. Even if they were finally exploring other planets, humans remained remarkably low tech when it came to weapons. Not that people like her needed much more then this. The blade was used to cut through thick flora while she used the shotgun to scare off hostiles. Usually that did the trick. Not this time. They had gotten close enough to rip a hole into the woman's side and her Kevlar top. Great for stopping bullets, but not so terrific against claws. If only her father had shared that much information with the grunting Ginger. Wiping a hand through her dark red-brown hair, she sighed. Then again... her father didn't know much about these bastard sons of Earth tigers and elephants. Not that they were actually that. Just they were the closest she could think of to describe them. The beasts were huge, but hardly the most dangerous thing on the planet. While they could tear through a mining station in little time... they were dumb beasts and easy to predict. It was just a spot of bad luck that this particular critter had gotten the drop on her. The more dangerous creatures were the intelligent type. They thought out their attack plans and it was a real chore dealing with some of them. Half the time, Ginger tried her hardest to avoid packs of such beasties. After a while, she felt that the pain wasn't so bad. It was starting to dissipate just enough for her to tread the land a little longer. It would be hours before Ginger reached the next station, but damn if she was going to let herself die this far from home. How's this for spirit, old man? She snickered softly. Things would be great if she could just cut a clear path to the station, but things rarely went the way you want them to. She should have known that fate had something else in mind for her. Something along the lines of a small scouting party of those same beasties she spoke about. The smart ones that knew how to track and plan. Not much bigger then your small ponies, but still a pain. If only she knew the exact word for these devils. Xeno seemed to fit them fine. Then again... Xeno fit just about anything that was alien to humans.