Page 32 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

Without thinking it through, I lunged forward, falling and extending tentacles beneath its plummeting body. I caught it, cushioning the impact. It froze in surprise, strange eyes widening. So close to it, I was nearly rendered insensible by its otherworldly, intoxicating aroma. The curiosity I’d been feeling exploded into something else entirely. I shivered with delight, metachrosis going wild. A violent rainbow of shifting hues. I leaned nearer to it, mating tentacle throbbing with need.

But then it screamed, struggling to get away from me.

And the translator suddenly activated with a series of clicks and crackles.

The barrier between us lifted.

KALITH

“Get away from me!” The biped shouted, its words crystal clear now thanks to the translator. Despite its frantic motions, it could not extricate itself from Vantor’s grasp. Dozens of his suckers had adhered to its form. “I can’t believe I’m going to die like this. You’re going to probe me, aren’t you? Stick a giant silver alien tech dildo up my ass and call it research.”

“I do not know what a dildo is, but it would be easier to comply with your request if you would cease your manic movements,” Vantor said slowly, voice neutral. I knew him well enough to see how hard he was struggling to maintain his composure though. One by one, he peeled his suckers away, releasing the being. It struggled to stand, nearly falling. Vantor reached for its body quickly, as if he couldn’t help himself.

He sucked in a breath as the biped recoiled, his colors roiling with confusion and need.

It was the same for me.

This creature smelled unlike anything I’d ever encountered. It made me forget myself, forget where I was and what our mission had once been.

"You… you understand what I'm saying now?" The red-filament biped’s tone shifted, its expression confused. It reached one upper limb toward its neck, the five blunt digits at the appendage’s termination touching its skin, slowly exploring until it encountered the curved device now attached to its body.

Cyro, Vantor, and I said nothing.

The biped waved at us, both lines of fur above its eyes raising. “Hello? Earth to weird squid monsters. Ground control to majorly freaky aliens.”

Squid registered. I’d seen that species in a pre-mission briefing as a possible lifeform we’d encounter at the trench. I could understand the comparison, though it was a surface similarity at best.

My mission comrades and I were still frozen in place. Cyro’s assessment of this being a simple-minded creature seemed in error. Cyro's mantle flashed with patterns of astonishment so bright they were almost painful to observe directly. Vantor’s colors had gone completely still. I unfroze first, bouncing upon the tips of four tentacles, anxious energy flowing through me as quickly as the wash of colors slipping over my skin.

“After all those gross, wet sounds you were making, now you’re all suddenly quiet. Couple of cats got your tongues?” The biped whipped around, red filaments fanning out around its head, its visual orbs flashing bluer than the sky above.

“We comprehend your words,” Cyro answered slowly, carefully.

“Well, that’s just freaking great,” the biped grunted, standing up and bending over, swiping the ends of her upper appendages down the front of her lower appendages, presumably to clear away debris. “Now that you know what I’m saying, listen very carefully. Leave my⁠—”

My translator glitched out. I tapped it quickly. I’d found over the course of my career that one good blow could fix many unidentified issues.

“—got it?” I caught her last two words as the device began to work again.

“What did it say?” I asked quickly, directing the query to my comrades.

“It? Did you just call me it?” The biped stomped toward me, stopping a foot from my form which towered over her. It stared up at me defiantly, then it raised one upper limb and slammed a singular digit into my body. “I am not an “it,” okay? I am a woman.”

“A woman?” Cyro’s eyes narrowed, likely trolling through a brain full of Earth data that he’d studied before arriving.

“Female. A girl. Womb bearer and registered member of the titty committee.” As if to emphasize the last, whatever it was supposed to mean, the biped slammed the wider, flatter part of its upper limbs against the rounded mounds on its chest.

“Ah,” Cyro bobbed his large head. “Mammary glands. A female. The offspring-bearing gender. There are so many species on this planet. I spent most of my time studying the more important organisms. I believe she is what they coin human.”

“More important?” She scoffed, whirling to face Cyro. “I’m the top of the damn food chain, buddy. And, for your information, male and female Omegas can bear children.”

“Omegas?” This from Vantor. “Is that a social, cultural, or professional classification?”

“It’s a secondary gender classification,” she shook her head. “I can’t believe I was terrified of you guys. You’re a bunch of outer space idiots. Why come to a planet you know jack shit about?”

I laughed, the sound cutting through the tension. Cyro bristled.

“Never thought I’d exist to see the day you were called an idiot, Cyro.” I couldn’t stop chuckling, even as Cyro’s hues shifted decidedly hostile.