Predator Cold War 15

Schaefer was coughing even before the alien appeared out of nowhere and picked him up, one-handed, by the throat. It was as big and ugly as any of the others Schaefer had ever seen. It wore no mask-presumably it had no need for one here aboard its own ship. Its yellow fingers and black
claws closed on Schaefer's neck, not tight enough to inflict serious damage, but tightly enough that it lifted him easily and inescapably.

Ligacheva came up out of the fog with her AK-100 in
hand, but before she could squeeze the trigger, in the second she took to be sure she wouldn't hit Schaefer, the monster slapped her back with its free hand. She slammed against the wall and slumped, dazed, back down into the mist. Schaefer struggled in the thing's grip, but resisted the
temptation to pry at its fingers. He knew these things were too strong for such a maneuver to do any good; strong as he was by human standards, he wouldn't be able to free himself.

He needed to find another way to fight back. Bare-
handed, he couldn't do anything; his AK-100 was out of reach; he needed some other weapon. He reached back behind himself, stretching. The creature growled at him, a grating, unearthly noise.
The fingerlike outer fangs around its mouth flexed horribly, and the vertical slit of its mouth opened wide, revealing its inner teeth.

"Damn you to hell," Schaefer said as his hands closed on a shard of the shattered red wall of the spaceship's interior.

He gripped it, felt the razor-sharp edge where it
had broken, and yanked at it. It came away in his hand, and without a second's hesitation he plunged it into the alien predator's side. The creature screamed in pain and flung him aside as if he were so much junk mail, tearing the makeshift dagger
from his grasp.-pg.469 chpt.30