Alien Shores (A Fenris Novel, Book 2) by Vaughn Heppner

alien recorded something with a handheld device.
    “I wish we had binoculars,” Cyrus said.
    Skar grunted agreement.
    After it had finished recording, the Kresh used the poles, neatly shoving something under one of the corpses. Effortlessly, the alien lifted the first dead primitive and carried it to the back trunk, sliding the body inside. The alien soon deposited all three corpses into the sky vehicle. The Kresh thoroughly examined the area. Afterward, the dinosaur-like creature put on a helmet and reexamined the ground.
    “Is that an infrared-vision helmet?” Cyrus whispered.
    “Be careful you make no sudden motions,” Skar whispered. “It is always easier to spy movement than immobility.”
    “Do you think it can see us?”
    “One must always assume the helmet has zoom capability.”
    The Kresh stalked back to where Cyrus imagined he’d been standing while firing Skar’s gun. He had combed the area before leaving. Skar had, too. They had tried to take everything technological with them. They hadn’t been able to take the antigravity sled.
    The Kresh froze for thirty seconds. Perhaps the alien was speaking into a recorder or to someone back at its base. Then, the creature climbed back into the sky vehicle and flew to the antigravity sled. The vehicle landed in another puff of dust. The Kresh climbed out and seemed to test the sled, poking it with a pole. Eventually, the alien carried the sled to the car and put it in the trunk.
    “What’s next?” Cyrus asked.
    “Patience will likely reward us with an answer,” Skar said.
    The sky vehicle lifted and hovered over the site. Finally, the Kresh raced away in the direction of the plain. Cyrus found it ominous that the sky vehicle took off in the exact direction the two surviving primitives had taken.
    “Do you think it’s tracking them?” Cyrus asked.
    “I do.”
    “That means the alien can track us.”
    “At least to here,” Skar said. They both stood. “You must move more carefully through the grass,” the soldier said.
    “Let’s get started,” Cyrus said.
    They did. Time passed; Cyrus’s left leg became tired, and he started to limp. How in the world could he find Klane, anyway? This was going to be impossible. Well, surviving a free fall onto a planet should have been impossible, but the two of them had done it. Why couldn’t they find Klane, too?
    Walking became monotonous. Nothing changed. The grass hissed against their garments, and every once in a while a blade caught on their clothes.
    “I imagine you could make good rope out of this stuff,” Cyrus said, as he shoved a long blade out of his way.
    Skar said nothing. The soldier marched as if he were late for a battle. It was a relentless step.
    “Do you hear that?” Cyrus asked.
    Skar stopped, and he raised his head. Then he turned fast, and motioned Cyrus to duck. With his legs, the soldier lowered himself like a submariner bringing the periscope down.
    Instead of listening to Skar’s advice, Cyrus looked up over his shoulder. The sky vehicle slid into view. Profanity exploded out of his mouth and he hit the ground. The stalks around him shook, and his neck burned red-hot with agony at the sudden motion.
    Like a crab, Skar scuttled away from Cyrus as his garments whispered against grass.
    The sky vehicle slid closer, and Cyrus could hear its mechanisms. Panic threatened as fear thudded through him, along with a flood of shame for blundering like a fool just now. Was this how he was going to save Earth from the aliens? The flying machine came even closer, and Cyrus scrambled to his feet.
    His left side and his neck throbbed, but panic washed adrenaline into his system. He stood and saw the reptilian Kresh inside the bubble canopy. The creature was huge like all the others of its kind. Yet there was something lesser about this one. It was hard to pinpoint the difference, but Cyrus certainly felt it.
    Without any visible emotions, the Kresh manipulated its controls. A gun popped out of