Chapter 3: Storm

Tristan woke the next morning to the sound of clattering and banging from his kitchen. He sighed. "What is she doing now?" He pushed off the covers, stood, and walked through to the kitchen. Open tins and boxes, their contents scattered about, lay on the work surface. Some beans in tomato sauce dripped, forming a lumpy orange puddle on the floor. The Alien had finally settled on breakfast cereal and sat, quietly eating them from the box. Tristan groaned, but she just turned and smiled. He grimaced, shrugged, then with a sigh went upstairs to wash and shower.

When he returned to the kitchen she had left. He made himself some toast and sat surveying the mess that had once been his tidy kitchen. Almost an hour later, his kitchen now returned to a semblance of normality, he put on his boots and walked up to the ridge overlooking the crash site. He found her busy working on her ship. She glanced up for a moment before returning to her work. He left her to it and went for a walk.

When he got back, she was standing in the hall, hands on her hips and face flushed. She didn't wait until he had shut the door. "I did not give you permission to leave!" She paused as the computer translated the next sentence for her. "You will take me to one of your cities now! I wish to find out all I can." She jabbed a finger at his chest emphasizing each word.

Tristan gasped at her arrogance. "Screw You! You can forget it with an attitude like that!" He stepped past her and walked into the lounge.

She followed him. "You inferior being, you will treat me correctly!"

Tristan spun round. "OK, keep talking that way and you can fuck off, you ungrateful bitch!"

The computer translated, her face flushed red, mouth opened and shut, and she spluttered something in her own language then caught herself. "How ... how dare you!"

Tristan glanced out the window. It had started to rain; one of those miserable rains that lasts the rest of the day, with a cold wind. He took several paces towards her then stood balanced on the balls of his feet. "I dare, you - you bloody alien cow!"

She backed away, clenching her fists. He sensed the vicious kick coming before she started to move. He dodged sideways, grabbed her foot at the top of her kick, and twisted. She landed flat on her back.

"You will need to be faster than that to catch me, bitch!" This time Tristan emphasised the word 'bitch'. She had given herself away by her strong emotion.

She rolled and pushed herself up. She swung at him again, but it was a feint; lightning fast she continued the spin going for his neck with the side of her outstretched hand. Every movement flashed in her mind a split second before she executed it. He caught her hand and twisted using her forward momentum against her. Again, she found herself on the floor.

With fast fluid motion she flipped herself up and round. Then attacked with another sweeping kick, powerful enough to kill if it had landed. Again, she gave herself away, and Tristan sidestepped, caught her foot and, keeping her off balance, twisted her round and pushed her out the still open front door. She fell backwards down his steps into the mud of his rough drive. Tristan immediately slammed the door and locked it.

"You can cool off in the rain!" he shouted. Clenching his fists he spun round to ensure all his windows were closed. With a sigh, he flung himself down in his lounge chair, smashing a fist down hard on the arm. "Fuck you!" he hissed between clenched teeth. He took a deep breath to still the pounding in his chest and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands.

He had never sworn at, or physically fought with a woman before. His father being old fashioned had brought his son up to be a gentleman. Still, she is ... it is an alien it's not the same is it? He shook his head; it still didn't make it right. At that moment a gust of wind rattled rain against the lounge window. Tristan shivered then smiled. "Thank you English weather." He busied himself lighting the fire.

Aesia stood up. She tried to brush some of the brown wet mud from her clothes. The fabric was not waterproof, unlike her uniform. She shivered and cursed herself for being so stupid and taking it off.

This alien had the better of her. All of her attacks had been blocked with relative ease, and it had ignored her superiority. She, like the rest of her people, took their superiority over other races for granted, but this creature had badly shaken her belief.

She stood outside the front door with water running down her neck, and shivered. The wind blew straight through her wet clothes, so she wrapped her arms tight to her chest and shivered again. She would not demean herself by banging on the door. She spun round; of course, she could shelter from the storm in the cockpit of her fighter. She ran to it, slipping on the wet mud, getting wetter and colder. She requested a system boot, but the ship did not respond. She shivered again as an icy blast hit her; the wet clothes offered no protection at all. Of course! She had locked it to prevent anyone from entering without her knowledge. She had left the electronic key with her uniform upstairs in the bedroom of the cottage. She stamped her foot. Things are getting better and better!

She cursed her stupidity. Ever since she had been on this awful planet, nothing had gone right. She crawled under the wet tarpaulin. At least it supplied some respite from the wind and rain. The rain beat on the tarpaulin in random rhythms as the wind took it in waves. Lightning flashed across the sky followed by a loud crack. It was dry underneath, but the wet clothes and the cold were getting to be too much for her. Shivering constantly she thought of her home planet, a warmer and far more pleasant place than this hellhole. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, and clamped her teeth together to stop them chattering. Tears burned her cheeks; she shook her head, ashamed at her weakness.

She had to get proper shelter and warmth soon. Her body was not equipped to cope with this. She was now in real danger of suffering from exposure. There was no option but to get into the building and get warm. She wriggled out from under the cover of the tarpaulin; the wind tugged at her wet clothes. Gritting her teeth her hands bunched into fists, nails digging into her palms, she walked back and up the steps to the front door. She hesitated, took a shuddering breath, then banged on the door and shouted to be let in.

She had to wait a few moments before she heard a muffled reply. "Only if you ask nicely! If you try to attack me again, you will go back out until you learn."

She opened her mouth to put the creature in its place, but she had no choice. She had to get warm or die. The computer told her what to say. "Please let me in. I'm cold and wet, and I promise to be good." She hoped she sounded contrite enough. "Please." She leaned against the door and the tears returned. The humiliation was almost too much to bear, even more than the cold.

Tristan opened the door to let her in. "You look like a drowned rat!"

She was crying and shivering uncontrollably, close to collapse. A small puddle formed on the floor around her. His heart missed a beat; had he gone too far? "Wait there." Tristan ran upstairs and got a warm bath towel out of his airing cupboard. When he returned, she had removed the wet clothes and stood before him completely naked and shivering. He stared at her for a moment before wrapping her in the warm towel. She was slim, toned and lean without an ounce of fat, her breasts small but firm, her body stunningly human like. He noticed a faint smile cross her face and for a moment her eyes seemed to shine. She knew the effect she had on him. His face flushed cheeks burning, he cursed his blunder.