Here's to my Great-Grandparents

Alien limbs rained around Dakota, her methodical yet desperate push forward went slowly. Her swollen limbs were pulsating dark ringlets of pain, and she glanced at Brian pathetically. _What the hell could he do?_

_Dead or alive - Test or no test,_ she thought, _catch this show, Blue-Suits._ She stabbed the closest alien with gleeful recklessness.

Her laser was wearing out, the spectroscopy of the energy source too low to begin its autotrophic ritual. _Foolish invention_, she thought. _Bloody useless when you're dying!_ She added injury to insult as she creamed a warty arm from one of the invaders and tried to slick its splattered cucumber pus from off her mouth.

Brian had disappeared. 10 seconds later he returned - as a nail-biting hologram - now gestured upwards with electrostatic spasms.

Dakota gurgled acknowledgement. She had to reach that vent while she still fit, get out, save Earth.

Hoisting herself atop a body, her laser cutting the bolts, she slipped in. Below, the grill smashed an alien mug.