Chapter 2: M.I.A

Moralez’ feet were beginning to hurt, they had been walking for so long, with no sign of any other survivors or any more Bugs. These winding tunnels went on for miles, and they were hopelessly lost. The tension was constant, it was impossible to tell if or when another one of those giant Bugs might appear. If it did, then they would not be able to stop it this time. The heat was getting to him too, the deeper they went, the more hot and humid it became. It had to be intentional, this was a hive, he was sure of that now. That thing they had fought, it must have been some kind of combat variant. Were the Betelgeusian soldiers that they had been fighting all this time just drones? Did they have to become established on a planet and build a hive like this before they could grow these warriors?

The information was crucial to the war effort. If an army of those things came pouring out of the ground, the UNN would be completely overrun, and no amount of Borealans or Krell would save them. He had to get back to the UNN line, but how?

He glanced over at the Borealan. She was walking beside him with her long, loping strides, her orange tail trailing behind her. Perhaps she would be able to smell their way out? Or at the very least, help them avoid the passages where the pheromones were the strongest.

“Hey, what’s your name?” She didn’t reply, keeping her eyes on the tunnel ahead of them. Still surly. Well tough shit, he outranked her, and they were in a combat zone. “Hey, I’m talking to you. What’s your name, soldier?”

She shot him a sideways look and gave a reluctant reply.

“Aziote.”

“Alright, Azi, what do you smell? Anything that can help us?” She seemed annoyed by his abbreviation of her name, but she sniffed the air experimentally.

“Nothing, it all smells like Bug.”

“Zuga said that he could smell what might be pheromone trails, that they were stronger leading deeper into the hive. Smell anything like that?”

She shook her head dismissively.

“Well keep a ... nose out for it. It might be the only sense of direction that we have down here. Oh, and take this.”

He unholstered his pistol and handed it to her grip-first. She took it in her large, clawed hand and weighed it experimentally. It was comically small to her, her finger barely fit through the trigger guard. She sneered, baring her pointed teeth as she examined the M1911.

“What is this?” she spat, “a chemical weapon?”

“That’s a 1911, that design is over seven hundred years old, still in production. Not exactly top of the line, but I never leave home without it. Those .45 rounds will still kill a Betelgeusian in a pinch.” She held it between her fingers like a toy, examining it with a disgusted expression on her face. “Take it,” he insisted. “You lost your XMR in the cave-in. Better to have an old weapon than nothing.”

She sighed and reluctantly shoved the pistol down her utility belt.

As they rounded the next turn, they came to a fork, two paths that looked identical. Moralez waited for Azi to sniff the air, then she gestured towards one of them.

“This smells less of Bug,” she said. Moralez walked over to the second tunnel, then licked his finger, holding it in the air for a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Hold on,” he replied, concentration etched on his face. “There’s airflow here, coming towards us down this passage.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms, watching him skeptically.

“Well, I have a theory. There are species of insect on Earth that build hives underground, and they’re capable of making vents that cycle air through the tunnels. They can bring fresh air deep into the colony, control humidity and temperature, you name it. I think the Betelgeusians can do the same, and if I’m right, then this air is entering from somewhere we might be able to exit through.”

“But it smells strongly of Bug down there,” she repeated as she gestured towards the first tunnel. “This one smells better, we go this way.”

Moralez frowned at her.

“Excuse me? I outrank you, soldier. You’ll follow my orders. We go this way.”

The Borealan bristled, her flat brow furrowing and her lips curling to reveal pointed teeth.

“You are not fit to lead, my pack is dead because of you. We go this way.” She punctuated her command with a violent gesture, pointing her black, curved claw down the tunnel.

“Listen here you insubordinate fuck.” Moralez aimed his XMR at her, and she seemed surprised by his response. She backed up a little, eyeing the railgun barrel that was pointed at her chest. “Get your lanky ass in that tunnel, or the only thing waiting for you when we climb out of that air vent will be a military prison.”

She seemed to consider for a moment, weighing her options maybe? He kept the gun trained on her, and eventually, she fell in line and made her way past him down the ventilated passage. He elected to follow a short distance behind her, keeping the rifle in a ready position as he used the flashlight attachment to light their way in the darkness. Borealans could be fast, and if Azi decided to turn on him, he’d need to be faster. As if they didn’t have enough problems to worry about already besides fighting each other.

They walked for another half hour or so. Although Moralez could definitely feel the gentle flow of fresh air on his face now, the heat and humidity were still stifling. His boots were filling with sweat, and it was becoming uncomfortable. Azi paused for a moment, removing sections of her black body armor and dropping them to the tunnel floor. First her shoulder plates, her breastplate, then she pulled her thick leather undershirt over her head to expose her torso. She was certainly in shape. Bunches of toned muscle lined her shoulders and back, her biceps protruding as she raised her arms. Moralez’ eyes were drawn to the deep channel that ran all the way down her spine. He could see her Venusian dimples peeking out over her low-hanging belt. She looked remarkably human for what she was. Beads of sweat rolled down her subtly tanned skin, glistening in the light of his torch. She wore some kind of tube top or maybe a sports bra to protect her modesty, but that was it.

He noticed that the orange fur that covered her hands, with its faded tiger stripes, ended at her elbows to make it look as if she was wearing fuzzy gloves. Her hands and forearms were adorned with a thin coat of cat-like hair, while her biceps and shoulders were smooth like the skin of a human. There was no fur anywhere else on her torso either. He glanced down at her feet, noting that they too were furred and wondering how far up her legs it extended. The only other places that it was present were on her tail, and of course the hair on her head.

“Don’t you need that?” he asked, gesturing towards her discarded gear. She turned to face him, her belly just as muscled as her back, with a six pack so defined that his beam cast shadows on it.

“The air is stifling, it matters little. If we encounter another large Bug, it will not protect me.”

“True enough ... let’s keep moving.”

He must have been right, the tunnel was starting to slant upwards. It was barely noticeable, but they had to be on the right track now. Azi’s observation worried him, however. If they encountered a group of drones, they would be able to deal with them, assuming that they didn’t have energy shields. Another warrior was a different matter entirely, and although he suspected that they could be outrun, in the process of escaping they would surely become even more hopelessly lost than they already were.

He fumbled for his canteen, at least it would recharge quickly in this horrible humidity, its system drawing in moisture from the surrounding air automatically. He raised it to his lips and took a draw, careful to keep one eye on Azi. They had been walking all day and probably all night too, it was impossible to tell underground. He checked the watch on his wrist display. They had indeed been down here for about eighteen hours now, he was becoming tired. But where could they rest in this maze of tunnels? Wherever they slept, they ran the risk of a Betelgeusian patrol stumbling over them. There had to be storage areas down here somewhere, or would those be deeper inside? No, it didn’t make sense for the Bugs to have to travel all the way back down into the network to resupply. Logically, such caches must be placed along the tunnels that led to exits, like the one they were surely in right now.

“Keep an eye out for side tunnels,” he said. “If I’m right, then there must be storage rooms around here somewhere.”

Azi didn’t reply. Even she was struggling, her skin was shiny with perspiration, and her top was soaked. Moralez jogged a little to walk beside her, careful to keep his weapon pointed in her general direction, and offered her his canteen.

“You look like you could use it.”

She didn’t respond, simply staring straight ahead as she marched. Moralez became annoyed and decided to confront her.

“What’s with the attitude, soldier? I didn’t kill your pack, the Bugs did. Wasn’t my idea to come down here either, those were the Admiral’s orders.”

Her eye twitched, he was getting under her skin. All the better. He didn’t have much hands-on experience with these aliens, but he knew how to control his troops. She’d fold like any of them if he put enough pressure on her.

“Well? Out with it. I asked you a question.”

She growled, a low, primal rumbling that reverberated in Moralez’ bones. Was that some kind of threat display? Just who did this alien think she was?

“You think I won’t hit you upside the head with the butt of my rifle? I don’t have time for this, you’re only making things worse for us. I outrank you, so either fall in line and do as I tell you or I’m going to make you. Now drink, or you’ll become dehydrated, and I’m not about to drag you out of here.”

She balled her fists, her orange, furry tail flicking back and forth in irritation. He waited for her to argue, but instead, she snatched the canteen from his outstretched hand. She took a drink, glaring at him with her amber eyes, then handed it back.

“That’s more like it,” he added. “I don’t care if you don’t like me, just do your goddamned job, and we won’t have any problems.”

They walked in silence for a while longer, this tunnel seemed endless, and there had been no forks for a long time. Moralez was used to staying awake and often being in combat for longer than twenty-four hours at a time, but something about the temperature was just killing him. Azi fared no better. Her fuzzy, orange hair was limp and damp with sweat now, her top stained almost transparent. Suddenly she stopped, sniffing the air.

Moralez took a knee and shouldered his XMR, illuminating the tunnel warily, ready to fire on any approaching enemies.

“What it is?”

She continued to sniff, moving over to the passage wall, following some kind of scent. She placed her hand against the resin wall and hesitated, then put her furry ear to the surface.

“Something in here ... smells different. I think the wall is hollow.”

Moralez rose to his feet and slung his weapon over his shoulder on its strap, placing his hands against the warm, smooth resin. It must be a storage space, they had to be here. There would be some kind of switch, a pressure plate maybe? How would an insect that mostly communicates through pheromones open a sealed door? They ran their hands over the surface, but they couldn’t find any obvious electronics. Moralez traced his fingertips along the firmly packed soil where he expected the door frame to be, and recoiled as they met something wet and spongy.

“What is it?” Azi walked over to him, leaning down to his level to examine the wall. There was a gelatinous mass protruding from the damp soil through a convenient hole in the resin, mucous green in color, embedded in the wall. Azi prodded it with her claw, and it wobbled like jello. Was it alive? With his gloved hand, Moralez gripped it and pulled, the slippery material deforming under his fingers. He unearthed more of it, but it was stuck fast, half a dozen little tendrils disappearing deeper into the soil.

“Some kind of native mold?” he mused. He released the mass, and it rebounded as if it were made of elastic, settling slowly back into its original position.

“It cannot be a coincidence that we found a hidden door and this odd thing in the same place,” Azi replied, scratching her chin with her hooked claw as she considered. “They must be linked somehow.”

Moralez snapped his fingers, startling Azi. Had she never seen that gesture before?

“A bio-sensor! It has to be. This is the door control. Bio-sensors respond to environmental stimuli in order to serve a function, like detecting minerals or gasses.”

“Okay, but what does this one respond to?”

“I don’t know. Consider what we’ve learned about how Betelgeusians communicate, pheromones and scents, we’ve not even seen evidence of writing so far. What if this door opens to a smell command, the same way that a human door might open to a voice command? The Bug stands here,” he moved in front of the door, standing with his legs spaced apart. “Then it releases a scent, perhaps some specific pheromone or a pattern of smells. Zuga said that the pheromone trail was complex, like a written language, he just didn’t know how to read it. When the sensor picks up the scent, the door opens.”

“That doesn’t help us open the door,” Azi grumbled, “we cannot make such smells.”

“Let’s have a think about this,” he said, standing with his arms crossed in front of the gelatinous door control as it pulsed gently. “What if it’s coded to only open when it senses a Betelgeusian? If we traveled back down the tunnel, maybe we could drag back one of the bodies, and-”

He jumped out of his skin as Azi slammed her leg into the door, the metal beneath the soil ringing like a bell.

“What the hell are you-”

She kicked it again, driving her foot into the surface with her massive, powerful leg.

“What if you set off some kind of alarm-”

She wasn’t listening. The alien pounded the door relentlessly, and to Moralez’ amazement, it began to dent inward. The dirt that had been somehow glued to the surface to conceal it was sloughing off under her assault, revealing the silver metal beneath.

“Idiot! If you break the door down, they’re gonna know we were here! I order you-”

The door fell to the ground with a heavy clang that reverberated through the passage. The gelatinous blob started going crazy, flexing and twisting as if it were in pain. Moralez had no idea what to do. Azi was out of control, she wouldn’t follow his orders. Summary execution was out of the question, he needed her. If he came across a Bug patrol on his own, he wouldn’t be able to fight them off. He cursed and knelt for a moment to draw a combat knife from his boot, stabbing the gelatinous blob with the blade. It wobbled and bubbled, leaking yellow pus, then went still.

“Damn it Azi, what’s the point of hiding in a side room if you make it obvious that we’re here?” He wiped off the blade on his sleeve, then stepped over the dented door and into a small, dingy room. It was roughly circular, with a domed roof, all made from the same sculpted soil as the tunnels. There were crates in here, odd, vaguely rectangular boxes a dull brown in color that looked like they were made from some kind of poured resin. There were no light fixtures of any kind, they were probably labeled by scent just like everything else in this godforsaken maze.

Azi sniffed the air in the room tentatively.

“No Bugs in here, not for a long time. It will be safe.”

“Yeah, unless a patrol comes down that fucking tunnel and sees the busted door.”

She hooked her fingers under the metal plate and hefted it back up, leaning it against the door frame so that it more or less blocked off the room. Moralez shot her a sarcastic glance.

“D.I.Y expert over here. Remind me never to let you remodel my house.” He doubted that she understood any of his veiled insults, but she huffed dismissively, turning to examine the crates. She kicked one experimentally.

“Don’t break those too!” Moralez added. “For God’s sake, they could be full of sewage or chemical weapons for all you know.”

She ignored him, bringing her massive, paw-like foot down heavily on one of the boxes. It shattered like brittle plastic, disgorging dozens of Betelgeusian handheld pistols and what must have been wrist-mounted energy shield projectors onto the floor. She picked up one of the devices and thumbed the switch, a blue oval of plasma flaring to life, blinding Moralez in the gloom. She waved it back and forth, smirking at him as his eyes adjusted to the glow. She pulled his 1911 handgun from her belt and tossed it unceremoniously at his feet.

“You can have this back.”

He stooped to pick it up, brushing dirt off the receiver and scowling at her as she appraised one of the Bug weapons. He walked over to the pile and picked up a shield projector for himself, might as well take one, but he didn’t care for the Bug guns. His handgun had served him well up to now, and he wasn’t about to start doubting the .45. He strapped the strange device to his wrist and switched it on, the blue, translucent shield wavering and fizzing as it took form. Much like the weapons that the aliens favored, the shield made use of magnetically-contained plasma, molded into the desired shape by the electromagnetic fields. It wouldn’t actually stop a bullet or a knife, but it would more than likely melt the metal before it made contact with the user. He collapsed it again and holstered his pistol.

A wave of fatigue suddenly overcame him, and he sat down on one of the crates, the relief on his feet and legs was immediate. It was still uncomfortably hot, but he could deal with that. Now that they were out of immediate danger he could think, try to puzzle their situation out, come up with a real plan that didn’t involve them just walking until they dropped. He removed his armor plating, his helmet, and his backpack, stripping down to his uniform. Instead of throwing them to the floor as Azi had done, he stacked them on the crate beside him. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning. His body was a patchwork of scars and burns, mementos of old battles standing out prominently on his tanned skin. Azi seemed drawn to them, watching him as he ran his fingers through his sodden hair. He noticed her looking and pointed to one of his scars, a large, discolored burn that looked like a splash of paint across his chest.

“That one almost took me out. Plasma grenade burned straight through my armor, almost down to the bone.”

She didn’t reply, merely watching him, her head cocked like a curious dog. The silence became awkward, and he turned away, frustrated. Maybe it was futile to try to bond with her, he still wasn’t sure if she genuinely blamed him for the death of her pack or if she was simply an ill-tempered bitch. Either way, it had to stop. Their cooperation was crucial to their survival, and he outranked her. No point bringing it up now though, he was too tired to argue.

He rummaged through his pack, retrieving a tightly-rolled sleeping bag, and lay it on the floor beside the wall. Might as well get some shuteye while they had the time. He pulled some nutrient bars from a pocket on the side of the pack and unwrapped one, chewing the dense ration. He unzipped the bag and climbed into it as Azi watched, perched on one of the intact crates. She didn’t have a pack, and he assumed no sleeping bag or rations. Maybe the aliens could go a while without eating, or maybe she was just careless. He wasn’t about to share with her after she had snubbed his previous gestures.

He finished the nutrient bar and settled in. It tasted pretty foul, but there were about three thousand calories packed into it, along with all the vitamins and minerals that his body would need on short notice. As he began to drift off to sleep, he was startled awake by the sound of another crate shattering. He rose to a sitting position, his heart racing, seeing Azi rummaging through the contents.

“What are you doing? We need to sleep while we can.”

She ignored him, picking up a strange package wrapped in some manner of brown paper, smelling it and turning it over in her hands. She peeled the paper away, revealing some kind of black substance that looked like road tar. She licked it, then dropped it, spitting and grumbling to herself. She eyed his pack, then turned to him, her arms crossed.

“Give me your food.”

Moralez laughed at her, doubling over as the effort sent a flare of pain through his ribs, still bruised from the warrior Bug’s claw bash.

“Excuse me, soldier?” He made sure it sounded condescending, trying to goad her into reacting. She bristled and bared her pointed teeth.

“You have food, give some to me.”

That was the last straw. He unzipped the sleeping bag and rose to his feet. It wouldn’t be intimidating to such a large alien, but it was a force of habit, this would not be the first time that he had been forced to talk down a disgruntled subordinate. Her insubordination and lack of respect were unprecedented, however, had this alien even completed her military training?

“Let’s get one thing straight, Mad Cat, I outrank you. That means you do what I say, when I say it. That isn’t a suggestion, it isn’t optional, I’m not asking you politely. Either you get your shit together and follow orders, or I’m gonna exercise my right under section ninety-four of the military justice code to summarily execute you for mutiny. We’re still on mission, and this mission is under my command, we have to assume that nobody else made it back to the surface and that we’re the only ones alive who can warn the Admiralty about the hive and the warriors. I’m not going to let your petty bullshit get in the way of that.”

He unholstered his handgun and pointed it at her chest, fast enough to surprise her, he noted. That might be useful to keep in mind later on.

“So what’s it gonna be? Are you going to follow orders or am I going to have to put you down?”

Azi was seething with barely contained anger. Her claws were outstretched aggressively, and her pupils were dilated into large, dark circles. She might be strong and fast, but she wasn’t faster than a bullet ... was she?

Moralez reached into the pocket of his pants with his free hand and tossed her the remaining nutrient bar, a gesture of goodwill. It landed at her feet, and she stared at it, a furious expression on her face. He got the feeling that this wasn’t about the food at all, something deeper was going on here. Her eyes rose to meet his, and she spat a curse in her native tongue.

“You are not fit to be Alpha, you are weak, you made bad decisions.”

“Alpha?” he repeated, confused. “What the hell are you talking about? What does that mean?”

He saw the glint in her yellow eyes too late, the contraction of her muscles. As if in slow motion, he watched her duck and charge, propelling herself forward on her spring-loaded legs. He squeezed the trigger, the 1911 recoiling, expelling a bronze bullet casing with a swirl of smoke. The projectile blew past her hair, the only sign of its passage a ruffling of her orange mane in its wake, and she was upon him before he could ready another shot. She slammed her open palm into his chest, knocking all the breath out of him. He collapsed to the floor, heaving as he tried to suck air into his empty lungs. She stepped on his wrist until he released the handgun, then kicked it away across the dirt. She gave him a moment to recover, and he rose to his hands and knees, coughing. Azi crouched, and lowered one of her massive hands to grip a fistful of his hair, Moralez wincing in pain as she pulled his head up and snarled into his ear.

“You can’t even defend yourself, you miserable ape. I am Alpha now, we do what I say.”

“I’ll have you ... court-marshaled,” he spat, still catching his breath. “You’re going against the wall for this, I’ll ... make sure of it.”

“You aren’t in a position to make sure of anything, and when I’m done with you, you won’t want to.”

“Talk sense you goddamned fleabag,” he growled. She tugged his hair in response, and he gritted his teeth.

“Keep fighting me, see where it gets you.”

There was an odd look on her face now, her eyes playing over his body. Was that hunger? Did Borealans eat humans? She flung him backwards and released his hair, slamming him against the wall, and he sank onto his sleeping bag in a heap. She stood at full height, leering down at him, and her pink tongue left her mouth to wet her lips. Fuck, she really was about to eat him. He was defenseless, except for ... but he’d have to be fast. Provoke her, wait for her to get close, then strike.

He began to laugh, sputtering as his burning lungs worked overtime. Azi cocked her head, not understanding his reaction.

“You call that a punch? Felt like a light breeze.”

She balled her fists again and leaned closer, angry for sure. But there was something else, a longing in her stare that set him on edge.

“Oh, I can do worse,” she whispered in a mocking tone.

“Why don’t you say that to my face?”

She crouched and leaned closer, her pink nose an inch from his. He could feel her hot breath on his skin. His hand inched slowly towards the knife in his boot as he maintained eye contact, trying to keep her focused on him.

“I can make you beg, first for the pain to stop, then for it to continue...”

He drew his knife, the blade angled downwards, and drove it towards her neck with all of his strength. She was faster than him. Her reaction times, her reflexes, the firing of her powerful muscles. There was no way that he could have taken her by surprise. She caught his wrist in her large hand, a trickle of red blood staining her orange fur. The tip of the blade had found its mark, but it had only penetrated one or two millimeters. The tightness of her grip became unbearable, and he released his hold on the knife.

She touched a fingertip to the small cut, rubbing the crimson fluid between the fleshy pads on her thumb and index finger, biting her lip.

“You’ve stung me, little insect, and now I’m going to crush you.”

He swung a punch at her with his free hand, but she dodged it easily, shackling his arms in her steely grip. She slammed him to the floor, pinning him under her weight on the sleeping bag, then her oddly dexterous tail snaked over her back and bound his wrists above his head like a sinewy rope. He struggled against the appendage, but it was all muscle, he was completely overcome. For all his training and experience, he was powerless, immobilized before this massive alien.

She straddled him, her face reddening as she wet her lips again, tracing the contours of his body with her amber eyes. She was predatory, but Moralez felt less and less like she intended to eat him. What was her plan?

“I love it when you fight me, there wouldn’t be any sport in it otherwise.”

She traced his exposed chest with her wicked, hooked claws, drawing red welts in his skin. He shivered and writhed as they burned into him, the pain awakening his senses, amplifying them. He was suddenly aware of the pressure that her firm, steely thighs were applying around his waist, the heat and moisture that penetrated his clothing. He looked up at her burning cheeks and realized that she was aroused, she was burning up. What did she intend to do to him?

“So fragile, so weak, so easy...”

She raked her other hand across his belly, breaking the skin slightly, leaving three scratches that welled almost imperceptibly with blood. He bucked and grunted, his body trying to save itself with futile, primal struggling. His hands were bound too tightly by her tail, and even with leverage he wouldn’t have been able to lift her, it felt like an elephant was sitting on him.

“In my culture, we scar people who don’t know their place, it serves as a memory. Your flesh is so yielding, I could carve you up like meat. Some part of me wants to spill your guts, to watch the blood drain from you.” She closed her eyes and rolled her head back, grinding her wide, heavy hips into his groin. “But then the fun would be over too quickly.”

She leaned over him, tugging at his hair with her long fingers to pull his head aside, and pressed her fat lips against his carotid artery. His blood ran cold, and he tensed as he felt her sharp teeth dig into his skin, his racing heart making the vein pulse against her sharp incisors. Her breath was warm and sweet, and he shuddered as her long, feline tongue grazed his tender flesh to taste his sweat and his fear. He felt her chuckle as he trembled under her touch, her black, meat-hook claws tracing the line of his clavicle. She moved down to the nape of his neck, mouthing and kissing as she went, then bit his shoulder. He felt her teeth pierce his skin, burning pain flaring through his nervous system, forcing a cry from his lips that he tried desperately to stifle. Her bite force was incredible, she was locked onto him like a vice. Yet even through the pain, he could feel that she was holding back. This was nothing to her, a love bite, a hickey.