Chapter 14: Love-Hate Relationship

The squad made their way through the winding corridors of the Omaha, heading for the armory, where they turned their weapons and armor over for maintenance and cleaning. Everything that they were wearing had been caked in mud, and some of their armor plates had been damaged in the fighting, the team of armorers who were on duty seeing to the repairs. Jade was the exception, as her chest piece could only be replaced by her own people. For all Evan knew, they might grow the things in vats.

They took off their pressure suits, too, Evan peeling the clinging garment off as his sweat glued it to his skin. Once again, Jade was the exception, watching curiously as her companions stripped down to their underwear. Her curious eyes lingered on Evan’s figure, her long antennae twitching, the Jarilan quickly looking away when he noticed her. There was nothing abnormal about her curiosity – he felt the same way about her. Which parts of her armored carapace were removable – and what lay beneath them – had been weighing on his mind ever since he had seen her wearing a tank top. What modesty did an insect have to preserve?

They headed straight for the showers once they were done, the tone of their conversations jovial. The fighting had left everyone tired and sore, but victory had elevated the mood considerably. Being delayed on the ground meant that the majority of the battalion had already finished cleaning up, and all but a couple of the shower cubicles were vacant. They didn’t have doors, but they had dividing walls to offer some measure of privacy from one’s immediate neighbors.

Evan had never felt self-conscious in the showers before. Co-ed living was something that every Marine had to get used to. It was a fact of life on Navy ships, where there just wasn’t the space to segregate all of the facilities by gender. Still, something about having Jade here made him hesitate to remove his shorts along with everyone else. The Borealans seemed to have no concept of modesty, their absurdly toned physiques impossible to ignore as they strode across the room. Evan found himself marveling at Tatzi’s chest. Calling her well-endowed would have been an understatement. The pale skin where their bodies were devoid of fur was crisscrossed with faded scars, no doubt wrought through a lifetime of physical altercations.

As the rest of the team headed for their cubicles, Evan’s eyes turned on Jade, who was walking into a booth at the far end of the room. She turned back to glance at him, her lower hands starting to pry off her chest piece. With a coy smile, she stepped out of view, leaving him standing alone on the smooth tiles. He came back to his senses, then stepped into a cubicle, sliding off his shorts. The cool water cascaded over his warming face, the sound of it splashing against the tiled floor filling the booth, steam starting to billow as he turned up the temperature with a few presses of a touchpad on the wall.

They had nowhere to be, so he took his time, enjoying the sensation of the accumulated sweat and grime being washed away. He retrieved a bottle of body wash from a shelf, and before long, he was clean. When he stepped out of the booth, he saw that everyone else had already left. He wrapped himself in a towel from a nearby rack, then headed to the squad’s shared quarters. When he arrived, he found the rest of the team crowding around Jade, Evan quickly pulling a fresh uniform from his locker. Fumbling with his zipper, he walked over to see what all the fuss was about.

She was wearing her tank top again, and she was holding up her chest piece, showing where the broken Bug blade had embedded itself in the material. The pointed tip had penetrated the inside of the plate, creating a crack in it, protruding maybe a quarter inch. Without knowing what anatomy she was concealing beneath the shirt, it was hard to be sure, but it looked like the blade might have done some serious damage if it had penetrated just a little deeper.

“You took your sweet ass time,” Hernandez said, noticing that Evan had arrived. “Come on, we’re gonna hit the bar.”

“You guys were waiting for me?” he asked.

“We’re a team, aren’t we?” Brooks replied with a grin. “Ghosts have to stick together.”

Evan looked for Foster and Collins, noting that they were still standing apart from the rest of the squad. Even after everything that had happened, they still didn’t trust Jade? Hell, she had risked her life to save Collins, taking a Bug blade to the chest in the process. Despite their mistrust, they followed behind the rest of the group as they searched for the Omaha’s bar. It didn’t take them long to locate it – the ship was about half the size of the Rorke, after all. The rec facility was a little more spacious than those of the jump carrier, but it was the only one onboard. There was a bar with a mechanical arm that was serving drinks, along with the usual fare of booths, tables, and games.

This was where the majority of the battalion had ended up. The room was packed to bursting, the sound of dozens of conversations being held all at once creating muddled background noise as the squad pushed their way through the crowd to reach the bar. The two Borealans led the way, the throngs parting before the enormous, muscle-bound felines. They ordered their drinks, then struggled over to the far end of the room, hoping to find a vacant table.

Despite how crowded the room was, the squad was able to find some seating. Evan, Hernandez, and Jade found themselves sitting around a table with Borzka and Tatzi. The chairs were too small for the Borealans, so they pushed them aside, sitting down on the floor. Their exaggerated stature put them at a comfortable height all the same. Brooks, Donovan, McKay, and Garcia occupied a vacant booth in arm’s reach. Collins and Foster hovered around nearby, not wanting to join Evan’s group but not having the room to sit with Brooks and his friends.

“Ugh,” Tatzi grumbled, raising a bottle of pink liquid to her lips. She took a long draw, then wiped her mouth on the back of her furry hand. She turned it over, giving her palm a sniff, then grimacing. “No matter how much I try to wash it off, I cannot clean the stench of that insect’s blood from my coat.”

“We fought well today,” Borzka added, the low growl of his voice making it quite easy to hear him over the din of the bar. “Revenge will not resurrect the fallen, but it is a salve that soothes our loss. You,” he added, pointing a clawed finger at Jade as he held his bottle in his hand. She blinked back at him, her antennae standing up straight in what might be surprise. “You took a blade for your pack. You alerted us to a cowardly ambush that might have been our undoing. You bear no scars, but you are a warrior all the same.”

“That’s because she keeps changin’ her shell,” Hernandez added, leaning over to give her an aggressive pat on the back. “Our little hermit crab over here.”

“To Jade,” Brooks called over from the booth, raising his glass into the air. “For keeping us from getting caught with our pants down.”

The rest of the team raised their drinks in a cheer, even the Borealans joining in, seemingly aware of the human custom already. Jade couldn’t blush – she had no cheeks – but Evan got the impression that she was trying all the same. He couldn’t see the two loners anymore, they had blended in with the crowd.

“What’s everyone drinkin’?” Hernandez asked. “I hear Borealans can’t hold their liquor,” he added, looking right at Tatzi. “Is that fruit punch you got there?”

She glared at him across the table, shooting daggers, Evan finding himself pulling away reflexively. He didn’t know enough about Borealans to tell whether she was about to laugh or swipe his head off.

“It is called raises the hair,” she replied. “A wine from my home territory made from fermented berries.” She slid it across the table, her arm long enough to bridge the gap between them, Hernandez examining the alien text on the label. It looked like a font made from claw scratches. He lifted it to his nose, giving it a tentative sniff, then took a sip.

“Hey, it really does taste like fruit punch!” he chuckled as he handed it back to her. “I bet I could drink you two under the table.”

“Perhaps,” Tatzi snarled, wiping off the rim of the bottle with her furry hand. “Though I have other ways to put you on your back.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Hernandez replied, her eyes narrowing at him. Evan still couldn’t tell if they were arguing or flirting. Maybe there was no difference to a Borealan.

“Your peach schnapps okay?” he asked, leaning in to talk to Jade. “You haven’t drunk any yet.”

“I’m a little worried about putting people off with the whole proboscis thing,” she admitted, one of her antennae tickling his cheek as she whispered to him. “Don’t want to weird them out right when they’re starting to warm up to me.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he insisted, giving her an encouraging nudge. “You’re the toast of the town tonight – they won’t mind. You think they’ll forget that you saved the day because you have some unconventional table habits?”

His words seemed to embolden her, and she smiled back at him, bringing her glass a little closer. She opened up her mouthparts, her proboscis snaking forth to plunge into the amber liquid.

“Whoa!” Hernandez exclaimed, pulling away in surprise. Evan cringed on the inside, silently praying that his friend would be tactful for once in his life. “That’s fuckin’ rad! What is that?”

“It’s my proboscis,” she replied hesitantly, glancing over at him. “It’s how we eat.”

“You can talk while that thing is out? That’s some ... ventriloquist shit,” he added as he took another draw from his cup. “Can I touch it?”

“Come on, Hernandez,” Evan began, but Jade didn’t seem offended by his request. She lifted the prehensile tube of flesh from her glass and extended it towards him, the Marine giving it a wary prod with his finger. She suddenly coiled it around his digit, making him jump in his seat, his alarm quickly morphing into laughter.

“It feels like a tongue,” he snickered.

“I can do that and more,” Tatzi interjected, not wanting to be outdone by the Jarilan. Jade retracted her organ, watching along with Hernandez as the Borealan’s tongue parted her lips. It was tapered at the end, its upper surface covered in tiny, hooked barbs like those of a cat. It kept coming, Evan’s eyes widening as a solid foot of glistening flesh extended. She wrapped it around the neck of her wine bottle like a tentacle, lifting it off the table, Hernandez watching slack-jawed as she held it aloft. She set it back down, her tongue sucking into her mouth like a giant strand of spaghetti.

“Looks like I’ve been upstaged,” Jade chuckled, leaning back in her seat.

“What can yours do?” Tatzi added, turning her piercing eyes on Hernandez again.

“Well, shit,” he replied as he slammed the last of his drink. “Let me get a few more of these in me, and maybe you’ll find out.”

Tatzi cocked an eyebrow, Evan and Jade sharing a smirk

“Are they hitting it off?” she whispered. “I can’t tell.”

The drinking and celebrating continued for a couple of hours longer. Although there were limits on how many drinks each person could order, the resourcefulness of thirsty men never ceased to amaze. Drinks were sometimes ordered, then kept in reserve for celebrations, and Marines who didn’t drink would sometimes order for their friends who did. Evan had even heard stories of wily engineers using empty wastewater vats for brewing bootleg alcohol. He was staying under his limit, personally, but some of the other Marines in the battalion were getting buzzed. It was a fun atmosphere overall. The bar was full of laughter and loud conversation, everyone mingling and chatting freely.

It was a pleasure to see Jade grow more comfortable as the night went on. It wasn’t that she had ever lacked confidence, having learned to be direct with people, especially when it came to issues surrounding her heritage. Still, to see her so relaxed in such a social setting was more gratifying than Evan could have anticipated. She had a place here – in the squad, in the battalion. Rather than treat her like an outsider – like a Bug – she was just another Marine to them.

Through the crowd, Evan saw Collins walking towards their table, a drink in hand. He looked a little tipsy, Evan bristling as he neared. He headed straight for Jade, who didn’t notice him until he was standing right next to her, turning her head curiously.

“Hey, Bug,” he began. He was swaying a little, pausing to take a drink from his glass.

The conversation stopped, everyone at the table watching him cautiously. Evan prepared to rise from his chair to intercede, but he doubted that he’d have time to move before Tatzi took Collins’ head off, judging by the way she was eyeing him.

“I just wanted to say...” Collins hesitated, looking as uncomfortable as Evan had ever seen him. “Thanks,” he stammered. “You put your ass on the line for me down there, and I probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, looking just as surprised as Evan was.

“You took a knife for me, and I don’t forget things like that.” He took another drink, leaning a hand on their table to steady himself. “I got your back from now on.”

Foster suddenly appeared behind him, slinking out of the crowd like a panther, taking his friend by the shoulder.

“Come on,” he whispered, steering him away. His eyes met Evan’s as he left the table, the two scowling at one another briefly as the pair vanished into the crowd again.

“Told you,” Jade said, giving Evan a nudge with her elbow. “That’s a stage three right there.”

“Clearly, I shouldn’t have questioned your methods,” he replied with a grin. “What about Foster, though? He’s pretty isolated now that Collins has wised up.”

“He’ll come around,” she replied with a shrug. “Maybe he just needs a little more time.”

Evan downed the last of his drink, setting the empty glass back on the table. The party was winding down now, and a lot of the Marines were leaving for their quarters. Hernandez and Tatzi had shuffled a little closer together to whisper conspiratorially, the pair bumping shoulders now. The eight-foot, five-hundred-pound feline was getting touchy-feely with him, her long tail coiling around his leg beneath the table like a furry snake. Flirting with a Borealan apparently involved a lot of arguing and provocation, but it seemed to be working in the plucky Marine’s favor. Perhaps his time on Valbara had made him too confident for his own good.

Evan had assumed that Borzka would object, but whatever the nature of the relationship between pack members was, he didn’t seem to pay them any mind.

Brooks and his three friends from the Dragoon were about as drunk as they could get without being clocked by an MP and thrown in the brig. They were now playing a very clumsy game of pool as a group of Marines watched. Collins was among them, to Evan’s surprise, but his surly counterpart was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had finally read the room and retired early.

“You want to get out of here?” Evan asked, turning to Jade. “I think the happy couple could use a little privacy.”

“Sure,” she chuckled, watching as Tatzi gave Hernandez’s ear a nibble with her sharp teeth. “If you think he’s going to survive the night, that is.”

“He’ll be fine,” Evan replied, sliding out his chair. “If he can handle six Valbarans, he can probably handle one Borealan.”

They made their way out of the bar, the door sliding shut behind them to block out the noise from within, plunging them into a somewhat relieving silence. All they could hear now was the distant hum of the ship’s systems.

“Are we going back to the barracks?” Jade asked.

“I had something else in mind,” he replied, gesturing in the opposite direction down the hallway. “The Omaha’s layout seems to be identical to the Spratley’s, and if that’s the case, I have something I think you’ll want to see.”

“How mysterious,” she chuckled. To his surprise, she extended both of her right hands towards him. “Top or bottom?”

“Huh?” Evan stammered, his face starting to warm.

“Pick a hand,” she added with a smirk.

He hesitated for a moment, then took her upper hand in his, leading her down the corridor. He hadn’t really noticed until now, but the carapace that usually covered her four-fingered hands must be some kind of armored gauntlet. They were soft and fleshy, her skin smooth to the touch and warmer than his own. It didn’t feel quite like human skin – there were no hairs or wrinkles, no imperfections. Instead, it felt more like a thin, waxy film that had been pulled taut. Her touch made his heart quicken, and he wasn’t quite sure why.